I saw no signs of the enemy, and breathed freer as the last belated
passenger leaped aboard, the folding gang-plank was raised, and the
steamer, with a prolonged blast of the whistle, slid out into the
yellow-green waters of the bay.
The morning had dawned pleasant, but the sky was now becoming overcast.
The wind came fresh and strong from the south. The white-capped waves
were beginning to toss and fret the shallow waters, and the air gave
promise of storm. We could see men busy making all things snug on the
vessels that swung uneasily to their anchors in the harbor, and tugs
were rushing about, puffing noisily over nothing, or here and there
towing some vessel to a better position to meet the rising gale. The
panorama of the bay, with the smoke-laden city, grim and dark behind,
the forest of masts lining its shore, the yellow-green waters, dotted
here and there with ships tossing sharply above the white-capped waves
that chased each other toward the north, the cloud squadrons flying up
in scattered array from the south, and the Alameda hills lying somber
and dark under the gray canopy of the eastern sky in front, had a charm
that took my mind for the time from the mysterious enterprise that lay
before me.
"Keep together, boys," I cautioned my retainers as I recalled the
situation. "Has any one seen signs of the other gang?"
There was a general murmur in the negative.
"Well, Abrams, will you slip around and see if any of them got aboard?
There's no such thing as being comfortable until we are sure.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226