. You don't run any whalers from this port, do you?"
"Whalers?" Captain Weekes opened his eyes.
"I understand," Farrell explained, "that they keep out at sea for a
considerable time. . . . No, and it wouldn't help your confidence if
I told you that there's a man in New York--an Englishman like
myself--hunting me for my life. . . . But see here. Of your
knowledge find me a southward bound vessel that, once out, certainly
won't make port for a fortnight. We'll mail this report from the
Quay, and you can put me on board at the last moment, watch me waving
farewells from the offing, and then hurry north as soon as you
please."
Well, this, or something like it, was agreed upon; and here Farrell
sails out of the story for ten months, a passenger on the schooner
_Garcia_, bound for Colon.
BOOK III.
THE RETRIEVE.
NIGHT THE FOURTEENTH.
SAN RAMON.
I have never set eyes on the village of San Ramon, but I have heard
it described by two men--by one of them in great detail--and their
descriptions tally.
It is a village or townlet of two hundred houses or so.
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