CHAPTER VI FACING THE YELLOW BARRIER
"Maybe what you likee here?" demanded the little old Chinaman, looking up with a snarl.
"Looking around," retorted Tom, grimly.
"Allee same—git!"
The guide had approached, taking a swift, shifty look in at the bunk.
"That's Doc Gaston, isn't it?" whispered Tom, over his shoulder.
"Don't ye know him?" queried the guide, suspiciously.
"He looks strange, with that glassy look in his eyes."
"That's Doc Gaston, all right. 'Least, that's what he calls himself in Chinatown."
"You allee same git—chop-chop," snarled the Chinaman, savagely. He had put the smoking outfit on the floor once more, and now pushed against the motor boat boy with both hands, trying to force him from the room. Tom, however, coolly and gravely picked the short Chinaman up off his feet, wheeled and put him down again on the floor of the bunkroom beyond.
"Now, shove off!" ordered Halstead, half gruffly. "Don't bother me again."
After flashing an ugly look at the motor boat boy, the Chinaman fled in the direction of the store.
"Now, whatcher going to do?" demanded the guide, nervously.
"If I can't get young Gaston to walking on his own feet, then I'm going to pick him up in my arms and carry him out to the carriage," answered Tom Halstead, firmly.
"Smoking joss-house!" gasped the guide. "D'ye know what'll happen? There'll be a house-full of them chinks down on us! Hatchet men—gun men—say, young feller, dontcher know that these here hop-joints are protected by the highbinders?"
Tom Halstead had heard of the Chinese highbinders in New York. He knew of them as a desperate crowd of yellow-skinned thugs. The guide's own terror was too real to be feigned.
"If you're afraid of this kind of a job, what did you come here for?" asked the young skipper, quickly, gruffly.
"Why, I thought ye was goin' to try to coax the young Doc out. But, say—taking him out by force—lemme get outer this on the jump!"
"No, you don't," roared Tom Halstead, with swift and quite unlooked-for energy. "Stand by, now!"
He gripped the guide by the arm, fairly forcing him over to the bunk in which the young opium smoker lay. Giddings, if it was really he, lay open-eyed, yet unheeding.
"Come, get up!" ordered the boy, reaching with both hands under the opium smoker's shoulders and raising him. "Out on your feet!"
A drowsy, unintelligible protest came from the stranger. But Tom fairly lifted him out onto his feet, then threw a strong, supporting arm about him.
"Now, walk! Come along!" ordered Halstead, briskly, taking hold of the young man with his other hand.
"Sufferin' joss-sticks!" wailed the guide. "Here come the chinks—number-one man and all!"
The door of the bunkroom burst open. Through the doorway rapidly advanced the gorgeously-dressed Chinaman whom Tom had supposed to be the proprietor of the store beyond. Back of him came four plainly-attired Chinamen with as hard-looking, evil faces as could be found in all Chinatown's quagmire of vice.
"This ain't my doings, Ling!" wailed the guide, quailing before the stern glances of the yellow leader—the "number-one man." "I told this young fellow he'd have to quit. Let us out."
"Yes; let us out!" repeated Tom Halstead, staring undauntedly into the eyes of Ling.
"Put him down," ordered Ling, nodding scowlingly at the stranger whom Halstead supported. "Then, maybe, we see what we do with you."
The air was full of danger of the most awesome kind. Though not a weapon showed, as yet, each of the four Chinese behind the proprietor stood with his hands thrust up into his sleeves. A Chinaman always carries his weapons up his sleeves, whence he can bring them down, into action, with incredible rapidity.
"Now, don't think you've got me frightened," uttered Tom Halstead, sturdily, gazing undauntedly at the Chinese. "There isn't any scare in me when I'm dealing with people like you. If you make one single false move you'll be the ones who'll be sorry for it. Ling, I'm going to take this young man out of here. His friends know where he is, and they've sent me here to get him. I'm going to take him out of here, chop-chop. If I'm not out of here in another minute or so, then this young man's friends will bring down police enough on you to clean the place out."
Ling laughed contemptuously.
"Oh, you may think you have money enough, and 'pull' enough, to keep the police from troubling you," jeered young Halstead. "But, if this young man's friends get after you, it'll make a noise that the police can't shut their ears to."
Two of the men behind Ling stood blocking the doorway. The other two, by now, were edging around to get on either side of the unflinching boy.
"You yellow scoundrels, get back, and stay back!" commanded Tom, glaring at them sternly.
There comes into notice, now and then, a man who has enough of the magnetic quality of bravery to hold a mob back. Tom Halstead was possessed of the grit needed for such an undertaking.
"Get out of the way, Ling—you and your heathen hatchet men," commanded the young skipper, resolutely. "I'm going past you. If I find any fellow in my way I'll knock him down. If you fight back, it'll be the finish of you and of this place. Gangway, you yellow idiots!"
"Gangway, You Yellow Idiots."
Still supporting, half dragging, the dazed young banker, Tom Halstead grittily pressed his way to the doorway and through it. One of Ling's henchmen attempted to stand immovable, but Halstead, with a quick blow of his open hand, sent the fellow stumbling backward.
"If you're thinking of creeping up behind me, don't try it," advised Halstead, as coolly as ever, as he started across the outer room.
He gained the closed door connecting with the outer store. Pausing here, a moment, he beheld two of Ling's yellow-visaged fellows creeping toward him.
"Back for yours—that'll keep you out of trouble," barked the young skipper, coolly, without raising a hand to defend himself. Then he threw the door open, calling backward over his shoulder:
"Don't you dare let this young man in here again, Ling. If you do, it'll wind you up."
With that the motor boat boy contrived to pilot his charge swiftly through the store. He was not safe until he had passed the last of these yellow men, and the young skipper knew it. Yet, at last, he had the stranger out on the sidewalk, one hand up to signal the driver of the cab.
The guide, keeping close to the motor boat boy, had managed to get out with him. But the little fellow was shaking as though seized with the ague.
"Get into the cab, and help me take the young man in," ordered Tom, and the guide was glad, indeed, to dive inside the carriage. In another moment they were driving away.
"Say, but you've got the nerve!" chattered the guide, his teeth knocking together.
"Maybe you'd have some nerve if you'd learn to leave hop alone," rejoined Halstead. "Hop" is the Chinatown name for opium.
Halstead sat on the rear seat, supporting the young banker beside him. In a little while the cab again halted in front of Yum Kee's restaurant.
"Here," said Halstead, producing a ten-dollar bill. "Take this. Skip as soon as you like."
"You oughter gimme more," whined the guide.
"I've given you all I agreed. No use trying to get any more."
The guide, thereupon, sprang out, vanishing within a few seconds. Going to the doorway of the restaurant, yet standing where he could keep a close watch on the cab, Tom uttered a long, low whistle. Messrs. Baldwin and Ross saw him instantly, and came hastening out. By the time they reached the cab the young skipper was inside again.
"Is this your young man?" asked Halstead, almost in a whisper.
"Yes," nodded Baldwin, a jubilant gleam showing in his eyes.
"Better jump in, then, sir, so we can get away quickly."
Gaston Giddings now leaned against Tom's shoulder, sleeping the sleep of drugged stupefaction.
"How on earth did you find him so soon?" questioned Joseph Baldwin, leaning forward when the cab had gone beyond the confines of Chinatown. Tom told the whole story, simply and modestly.
"Young man," uttered Jason Ross, solemnly, "I don't believe you have any idea, yet, of how huge a risk you ran yourself into. The Chinese criminal is desperate at all times, but ten-fold more so when he's on his own ground, surrounded only by his own crowd."
"Well, I got out, didn't I?" smiled the young skipper, coolly.
"Yes; but I marvel at it."
"I understand more and more why Delavan recommended these youngsters to me," breathed Joseph Baldwin, gleefully. "'Ready for anything,' he told me, was the motto of the Motor Boat Club boys."
When the cab rolled out onto the dock Jeff Randolph was found pacing back and forth on the landing stage. No other member of the crew was in sight, and Jeff stated that none of the others of Mr. Baldwin's party of guests had yet returned.
Gaston Giddings, still unaware of his surroundings, was helped aboard the tender. A swift trip was made to the "Panther," and the unfortunate young man was immediately carried below to be put to bed in one of the stateroom berths.
Half an hour later Mr. Baldwin's other guests returned from dinner. Jeff, who had gone back to meet them, brought them on board, next going back to await the arrival of Third Officer Costigan and the crew. Dr. Gray hastened below, to attend to Giddings, and to keep him quiet, also, after the crew should come on board.
As for Captain Tom, after receiving Ab Perkins's report that all was well aboard, he went to his own cabin, calling Joe Dawson, through the speaking tube, to join him. Here Joseph Baldwin found both youngsters.
"Captain Halstead, how much did you spend on my account, to-night?" asked the owner.
"Altogether, sir, twelve dollars on the guide."
"Never mind about any change, then," rejoined Mr. Baldwin, passing over a bank note.
"I think I can make change for that, sir," retorted Skipper Tom, his color rising. "I'm not out after 'tips,' you know, sir," he added, with a smile.
Producing a roll of money from an inner pocket, Halstead counted out eighty-eight dollars, which he handed to the owner.
"You may refuse, now, but I shall be even with you later," remarked Joseph Baldwin. "And now, Captain, as soon as you can, after the crew comes aboard, I want you to put out to sea. I'll give you more explicit orders as soon as we're seven or eight miles west of the coast."
"Very good, sir," replied Captain Tom, saluting as the owner turned to leave the captain's cabin.
"You've been running into a bit more excitement, have you?" queried Joe, smiling.
"A bit," laughed Halstead. Dawson asked no further questions.
At a few minutes after midnight Mr. Costigan returned with his shore party.
"It's your watch below, Mr. Costigan, until eight o'clock in the morning," First Officer Ab Perkins informed the third officer. "When you are called to turn out we'll be at sea."
"Very good, sir," replied Costigan, and went below to seek his berth. Neither the third officer nor any of the crew had any suspicion that anything unusual had happened this evening.
"Where's Mr. Costigan?" inquired Captain Halstead, coming forward.
"Gone below to sleep, sir," Ab replied.
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to rout him out. He'll have to stay on deck until he has piloted us through the Golden Gate. I want to be under way within five minutes."
Somewhat chagrined, Ab Perkins sent one of the crew below for the third officer. Costigan was speedily in evidence.
Now, one of the motors began to chug briskly below, and the two bow anchors came speedily up, being stowed by the watch. Joe was in the engine room with Jed Prentiss, while Captain Tom Halstead, feeling prouder and happier than ever in his life before, climbed to the bridge up behind the pilot house. After him went Dick Davis, whose watch it was to stand. Mr. Costigan, after seeing the anchors stowed, started for the bridge also.
"Give the engine room slow speed ahead, Mr. Davis," directed Tom.
Dick gave the bell-pull at the bridge rail the required jerk. The "Panther" began to move gracefully ahead, while Mr. Costigan, with the pilot-house speaking tube in his hand, called down the helmsman's orders.
"Dick, this is the real thing!" whispered Tom Halstead, jubilantly, in his comrade's ear while Costigan was busy at the speaking tube.
"It's as fine as bossing a liner," rejoined Dick Davis, enthusiastically.
"Better!" declared Halstead.
Dick presently signaled the engineer for more speed. The "Panther" ploughed through the waters of the bay, toward the Golden Gate.
As Tom Halstead peered through the night ahead he felt another ecstatic thrill. It was all so fine, so glorious! No doubt it was better for him, at this moment, that he could not foresee all that lay ahead of him.