A small boat was landing on the beach below the castle. The crew, waist-deep in water, was sliding it in, on the crest of a breaker. One man separated from the others and walked toward the town. The spyglass covered him, though Farquharson's thoughts were elsewhere. "Why! Why!" in a moment, "it's old Brown. What's he been doing on a native fishing-boat?" He shut his glass together; looked once more at the smoke columns, then cantered down the hill. He came on his former employee near the plaza. "How do, Brown?" "Fine, Cap'. How are you?" "Glad to see you, Brown." "Same here, Cap'. I'm powerful glad." Farquharson and the Missourian gripped in cordial handshake. "Brown, I just saw you leave that sailboat. Are you engaged in catching fish?" Brown leaned against the Captain's horse, tangled his hand in its mane, crossed one foot over the other, and said: "Nary fishin', Cap'." "Well, that's a deep-sea fishing-boat." "I reckon. But I didn't fish none in that craft." "Out for pleasure, then. Well, what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?" Brown wagged his head. "Cap', I signed up with you in Santa Fé on prospect of big game huntin' and adventure. Well, there's been no big game, but I'm meetin' adventure, at last." "I'm much interested. I presume you were in this boat when the bombardment was going on this morning." "Nope. Only met her a while back. Cap', you couldn't guess where I was this mornin'." "Well," laughing, "as you would say, I reckon not." Brown wagged his head once more, placed his back squarely against the horse, and announced impressively: "Cap'n Farquharson, this mornin' I was on the flagship of Ad_my_ral Fairbanks." The Captain dropped the bridle-rein in his astonishment. The horse sidled away suddenly, and Brown nearly lost his equilibrium. "Admiral Fairbanks's flagship!" incredulously. "Why, I thought you had taken service with Mendoza." Brown recovered balance. "Yes, Mr. Mendoza has hired me to work for him at Mission San José, and I was on Ad_my_ral Fairbanks's ship this mornin'." "How in the name of common sense, man, can you reconcile the two things?" "Well, Cap', let me say, there's some things I won't speak of, seein' they're political and we're on different sides." "Never mind, Brown; tell me how you came to be with Fairbanks to-day." "Well, Cap', yesterday mornin' a bunch of Injuns were rowin' me out to one of our warships, for what purpose I'll not say." "All right, Brown. It was doubtless at Half Moon Bay. But never mind, go on." "Well, Cap', whether it was or not, we got lost in the fog. Never saw so thick a fog. Couldn't see a rowlock." "Yes, yes." "Well, my Injuns rowed and rowed, and palavered, and what not. Then, they began cryin' and prayin'-like, and I understood we was lost. Hours went by. Waves began splashin' into the boat later, and I knew we had got out to sea. Innards felt awkward. Small boat's a mean place for seasickness."