"Wait here a moment," bade the Fremont man; and abruptly left Charley on guard over the baggage. He returned in a minute or two. "No berths," he reported. "I wanted to find out. Now I know. We can sleep in the steerage, they tell me. Huh! Not after we've paid extra for fresh air. Let me look around." He did, surveying the crowded deck. Suddenly picked up the baggage. "I see a spot," he said, and led the way. Just outside the rail, over the stern was slung a large boat--one of the ship's life-boats. It hung by ropes to the davits, and was covered with a tarpaulin, or canvas, stretched over it and tied down. The Fremont man halted, at the rail, and pitched the baggage over upon the boat. "There we are," he said with a smile, to Charley. "Some of us can sleep on top--and if it rains I reckon we can double under. Go get your father, now, and I'll hold the fort." Away hurried Charley--excited, and in his mind the idea that this was to be the queerest bed that he had occupied yet. But he had faith in the big Fremont man. He took a look from the rail, to watch the dock below. Most of the passengers up here were crowded at this rail, to survey just as he was surveying. The stern had been left comparatively free. There was his father--he recognized the tall figure, and the limp--just arrived below, gazing about anxiously. Charley yelled, and waved, but he could not make himself heard or seen. Too much else was going on. So he raced down, and rushed out upon the dock. "Come on, quick, dad," he greeted, breathless. "We've found a place!" "Who?" "The Fremont man and I. He found it, though." "Did you get a berth?" panted his father, following him. "They told me at the steamship office that every berth was taken long ago. I had to fight for the tickets, even. Never saw such a mob." "No, not a berth. But it's a place, anyhow. You'll see." In the short space of time the upper deck had grown more populous than ever. They worked their way through the crowd, Charley eagerly looking ahead for the Fremont man at his post. "This is awful," spoke Mr. Adams. "The steamship company ought to be brought to law about it." "There he is," directed Charley, gladly. "See him. We've got the life-boat!" But perhaps they hadn't, for when they arrived, the Fremont man was calmly barring the way of three other men--among them the long-nosed man, who was doing most of the arguing on their part. "No, gentlemen, you're too late," asserted the Fremont man, thrusting them back with his rifle-barrel held crosswise. "That boat's occupied." Charley remembered to have seen the little gang much together, on the _Georgia_, drinking and gambling. They were a tough lot. "Tell that to the marines," retorted the long-nosed man. "We'll have that boat, or we'll know a better reason than _you're_ giving." "Reason enough, and here's my proof," quoth the Fremont man. "The boat's pre-empted by us three. You must hunt another claim."