"It looks to me," went on the engineer, "as if we were going to be pretty busy for the next few days."

"And the sooner we get started, the better," added Jim.

Leaving the restaurant, Jim and the chief engineer walked leisurely to the corner, where they stood for a few minutes, ostensibly watching the hurrying crowd of people on the street, but nevertheless keeping a watchful eye for anyone who might be d.o.g.g.i.ng their footsteps.

"Seen anything of that imp of darkness?" asked the engineer.

"No," replied Jim, "he isn't anywhere in sight, but I don't believe he is very far away."

"Can't we shake him off some way?"

"That's rather doubtful, but we can lead him a merry chase."

"That's something. What's the plan?"

"We will walk down the street," explained Jim, "as if we had no particular purpose in view, then we will separate, and you will go one way and I the other. Then, unless, as Tom says, 'he is two gintlemen in wan,' and can go both ways, he won't know which one of us to follow."

"Trust him for that," said the chief engineer, "he's sure to follow you."

"So much the better," returned Jim. "I think I'll manage to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You can go down to the maritime exchange, and see if you can learn of something in the way of a yacht that will serve us until we can get the Sea Eagle back. One to buy or hire, whichever is offered. You know what we want."

"All right. I guess I can locate something."

"Meantime," continued Jim, "I will go up the bay and look over anything in the harbor. That will puzzle Manuel if he is after me."

They separated, and the engineer sprang into a pa.s.sing street car, and with a "so long, Jim," disappeared. Jim reached the wharves through another street, secured a rowboat and started on his quest, which occupied his time for several hours.

It was a little after the appointed time when Jim arrived at the designated meeting place coming from across the bay in his boat.

"Call this five o'clock?" grumbled the engineer, when he joined him a moment later. "I was beginning to think that gorilla Broome had gobbled you at last. I have been hanging around for the last hour waiting for you. Well, what luck?"

"Found some makeshifts, but not just what I want. How was it with you?"

"Failed entirely."

"Well, get into the boat," directed Jim, "and we will talk things over as we go along."

"Where are you going now?"

"Out to take a look for the Sea Eagle, and see if she is still there."

"You haven't told me what you found," persisted Berwick.

"One thing I am sure of, I lost that fellow Manuel."

"See anything of him?"

"Not a thing. Maybe he was after you instead of me."

"Heaven forbid," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Berwick, with a half glance backward.

"So you did not find a ship for us?" repeated Jim.

"There doesn't seem to be anything in port that we can get. Just missed getting one, though. Martinex sold a ship this morning that would have just suited us."

"That's tough," sighed Jim. "We have got to have one before Broome gets away."

"Don't know where you are going to get it."

"Neither do I," returned Jim. "But we are like the boy and the hedgehog, 'We have just got to get one.'"

By this time they had come within sight of where the Sea Eagle lay riding quietly at her anchor, but not going close enough to be recognized by any on board who might be on the watch.

"There isn't any signs of their getting ready to sail," decided Jim, after a few moments study of the yacht. "So I think we are safe for another day."

"There is something that would suit us to a T," remarked Berwick on their way back, indicating a trim looking schooner-rigged yacht. "She's a beauty," he observed enthusiastically.

The yacht seemed to rest as lightly upon the water as a sea bird. Long, low, with not too much freeboard, it rose and fell on the waves, tugging at the anchor chains as though impatient to slip her leash and bound away on her course. It was painted in a pale metallic yellow that glittered in the rays of the setting sun like gold.

"The owner of that boat won't hire her," declared Berwick. "I bet he thinks more of her than he does of his wife."

"I don't believe he has one," declared Jim. "Almost as good as the Sea Eagle, isn't she?"--which was high praise from Jim. "Perhaps we could hire her. We might take a look at her."

"The Storm King!" he exclaimed, when they came near enough to read the name on the bow. "Why that is the boat the old captain told us about when he had the brush with Broome."

"_Brush_ with _Broome_ is good," said Berwick, with a laugh, "but I thought he said that boat was in the South Seas."

"Must have come in. The captain said Singleton owned her. Maybe he would like to charter her. We'll try him anyhow. Storm King, ahoy!" hailed Jim pulling up to the side of the yacht.

"Boat ahoy," answered a sailor on deck.

"Is the captain on board?" asked Jim.

"D'ye mean Captain Wilkins?"

"I guess yes," answered Jim, "I would like to speak to him."

"I admire your nerve, Jim," said Berwick, in an undertone.

"Coming on board, sir?" asked the sailor, making ready to heave a small line.

"Yes," returned Jim, "heave away."

Catching the line the sailor had thrown, Jim and Berwick climbed the gangway ladder to the deck where they were met by Captain Wilkins, a grizzled old seaman, attired in an undress uniform. He was tall, stoutly built, with an alert air about him that impressed both Jim and Berwick favorably at the start.