But line after line of surf they skilfully surmounted--first rising high, then sliding down, down, upon the other side, to meet the next line. Gradually the shore receded; the white and gray buildings of Panama, set amidst bright green, against the background of great Ancon peak, outspread wonderfully behind the ruined battlements of the old wall that fronted the harbor. And the _California_, smoking as if to bid "Hurry!" still waited. Gangway stairs were still lowered, down her side; and Charley kept his eyes on these. If they were hauled in, then that would be a bad sign. Meanwhile Mr. Adams talked with the young man, who impressed Charley more and more as being honest. Mr. Adams was convinced of the fact, also, for he said: "All right. If they'll take us on the ship you can come along with us, and welcome; can't he, Charley? If they won't, we'll see what else is to be done." Presently the black steamer loomed over. From her high rails hundreds of faces were peering curiously down; and the captain himself, in uniform, was standing at the head of the stairs. He did not look pleased, as the two canoes reached the stairs. "Hello!" he bawled. "You can't come aboard. What do you want?" "We want to go to San Francisco," replied Mr. Adams. "You can't do it, in this ship. We're full up. Stand clear; we're pulling out." And Charley, to his dismay, heard the clank of the anchor chains. "One minute! Just one minute!" shouted up Mr. Adams, standing and waving his letter. "I have a note for Captain Flowers." "Come aboard with it quick, then. But you can't stay," ordered the man above. And up the stairs hastened Mr. Adams. The captain snatched the letter without ceremony (and as if he was very cross), opened it and read it. Watching anxiously, as the canoes rose and fell on the waves at the foot of the stairs, Charley could hear most of the conversation. The captain spoke loudly and decisively. "Where'd you leave Crosby?" "Back at Pena Blanca." "I'd given him up. His places are taken. But I'll do the best I can for you. How many in your party? Who is your extra man?" "A young fellow I'm trying to help along." "Does Crosby know of him?" "No, sir, he does not," truthfully answered Mr. Adams. "Well, you can come aboard, you and your two, but he can't. I'll do that much for Captain Crosby. More I cannot do, and I positively won't. I'm stretching a point now. We're overloaded already. Hustle your baggage in; the anchor's afloat and you've no time to lose." "Come on, Charley, you and Grigsby," called Mr. Adams. "Bear a hand with that baggage," bellowed the captain; and several sailors sprang to the head of the stairs. Mr. Adams ran rapidly down again, passing Charley, who scampering gladly up. "You'll have to wait over, Motte," he said. Mr. Motte's face fell. "All right," he muttered. "Why don't you give him that extra ticket?" proposed Mr. Grigsby, over his shoulder, as he followed Charley.