The cowboy followed Jack Derringer aloft on the fore to loose the sails from the skysail down.
The cowpuncher, cool and collected, managed very well for his first trip aloft, and found no difficulty in following out Jack's instructions; but up on the main two new hands who had never been to sea before got into hopeless trouble.
One of them, but a youngster, who had given his name as Jimmy Green, seemed to have had what little sense he once possessed entirely knocked out of him by the rough treatment on deck, and could hardly hang on, so scared and nerveless was he; whilst the other, a much-befreckled man, whom the cattle-ranger had at once nicknamed Pinto, still suffered so much from the effects of the black bottle that giddiness almost sent him headlong to the deck.
In misery of mind the two poor wretches clambered out on to the footropes of the upper-topsail yard and clutched the jackstay with trembling fingers, and the stalwart presence of the British bosun was required before they could be induced to move.
"Let go thet clew-stopper, yew chunk-headed hayseed," roared the battered second mate to another poor imbecile up the mizzen. "Are yew sayin' y'r prayers, or d'ye think that t'gallant yard's your sweetheart?"
Slowly the great topsails rose and the gleaming cotton bellied out to the breeze.
And now the tug cast off, and, with a long toot of farewell, headed back for Frisco, whilst a small boat from the dainty schooner removed the pilot.
By noon all sail had been set, and the men were mustered aft for watch-picking. A sorry crew they looked after the battle towing out.
First of all their dunnage was overhauled by the mates for revolvers and knuckle-dusters. Broncho's weapon, however, they failed to discover, as his knowing friend, the rolling-stone, had carefully hidden it.
Whilst the watch-picking went on, the old man paced silently to windward on the poop, and the steward took the wheel.