"I kept telling them," Captain Flagway said, "that I was captain, not crew, but they wouldn't listen."

    Ittzy, coming forward, said, "Are you all right, Captain Flagway?"

    The captain looked up in surprise. "Ittzy? Is that you?"

    "We've been looking for you," Ittzy said. "These are some friends of mine. Uh, Vangie, uh, Kemp. And Gabe Beauchamps. And Francis Calhoun."

    "I am delighted to meet you all," said the captain. "I assure you I'm delighted."

    Francis said priggishly, "That Roscoe is an absolute menace. He's going to get himself in a great deal of trouble someday."

    Gabe said to the captain, "I hear you've been stuck in this port for a while."

    The captain nodded, his expression becoming mournful. "Three years," he said. "Three years and two months, to be exact."

    "It must be tough on you," Gabe said.

    "Mine," the captain said, "is a long sad story."

    Gabe took him by the arm. "We'll buy you a drink," he said, "and you can tell it."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

    Captain Flagway reached for his drink. "My story began in Baltimore," he said, "where I was a clerk in my Daddy's apothecary shop. One night on Eager Street I was approached by two men not unlike the two you kind people just rescued me from. Their intent was, I daresay, the same-to impress me into the crew of an understaffed steamer. I fear that night in Baltimore there were no Good Samaritans such as yourselves to come to my aid in my moment of distress. And so my saga of despair began. I was in fact impressed and found myself aboard the Magna Carta, a British vessel transporting cotton to Liverpool."

    He drank. "I had hoped to jump ship on its return to Baltimore-I knew Daddy would be worried. Unfortunately, however, the Magna Carta's next consignment was a cargo of cotton loincloths billed to Lagos, which is of course in Africa.

    "On the way I had an altercation with bos'un and found it discretionary to leave the ship in Lagos. I had several adventuresome tribulations before signing on a passing French freighter called Egalite, anticipating returning to Europe and there, surely, finding another ship bound for the States."

    He drank. "Unfortunately, however, Egalites consignment was a cargo of indentured servants billed to the Caribbean, whence she took rum to Brazil. In Rio de Janeiro I once again switched vessels, and found myself on a ship carrying coffee to the Azores. Surely, I felt, somewhere in the Lord's vast sea there must be a ship heading for the States. Unfortunately however, I did not encounter such, and then at last, in South America once again, I boarded an Argentine clipper, the San Andreas, which was bound for San Diego with a cargo of sandals and Sangria."

    He drank. "There were at that time approximately fourteen separate and distinct wars being carried on simultaneously throughout South America, with each nation participating in five or six alliances and two or three of the wars. Under those conditions it was not unnatural that privateers should be numerous and active, of course, and one constantly risked being accosted at sea by such ruffians-they were everywhere, always claiming ships for this or that country.

    "We succeeded in beating round the Horn in a savage maelstrom of wind, snow and hurtling ice, but in our voyage northward along the Pacific coast we were unfortunately discovered by a roaming man-of-war. It was a sad affair I can assure you. We were captured by Venezuelan freebooters. They, in turn, were taken by Chilean privateers. Next we were overwhelmed by elements of the Ecuadorian Navy. We then headed in toward shore but were ambushed by Colombian commandeers who, like the rest, took the ship as a prize of war."

    He drank. "There was more, of course; I touch only the surface. They all began to run together in my mind after a while, and one finds it most difficult to sort out the proper order of events. In one six-month period, never leaving the ship, I sailed under nine different flags."

    He drank. "Not being South American myself, and therefore not suspected of patriotic alliances or emotional ties with one side or another, I found that I was considered more trustworthy than most crew members. For that reason I rose rapidly through the ranks to the quarterdeck. In due course I had earned the position and rank of Third Mate, the post I still held when a party of Paraguayans in a stolen skiff rowed out to our ship one dark night and pirated the San Andreas from its then-possessors, who may have been Brazilians. Or Costa Ricans, I forget which. Paraguay, which is a landlocked nation as you know, had been at some considerable disadvantage in possessing no navy of its own. Therefore, the capture of the San Andreas was a victory of signal importance to that nation. The San Andreas became the whole of the Paraguayan Navy. As a matter of fact I suppose she still is."

    He drank. "Shortly thereafter, however, Paraguay lost its several wars. As a result our captain and his men were understandably reluctant to venture ashore anywhere on the South American coast, for fear of encountering hostile forces whose brutality was well known to us all. Therefore, we fled northward and, after many peregrinations and misadventures, we finally arrived at the Golden Gate, and found a berth for our weary ship here in San Francisco.

    "The captain and his crew at once deserted the ship and set out for the gold fields. I had been promoted Second Mate on the voyage up, and after a suitable interval alone on the ship I appointed myself Acting First Officer. Sometime after that, I assumed-not without some audacity, I'm sure-the temporary title of Captain."

    He drank. "And all the while I had in my mind the unhappy state my poor Daddy must be in, attempting to run the apothecary shop without my help."

    Gabe said, "You've been here three years you say?"

    "Yes. I keep myself alive by fishing off the windward side of the ship. But I appear to owe the city three years' worth of dock fees and, in fact, the harbormaster of late has made ominous statements about impounding the ship."

    "Your father must be pretty worried about you by now," Vangie said. "How long have you been away from Baltimore?"

    Captain Flagway drank. "Twenty-four years," he said. "But I suppose Daddy has made do with temporary help."

    Saying which, he passed out and slipped quietly to the floor.

    He awoke in the night, and they were all sitting around watching him. They smiled. Someone gave him a drink and he clutched it gratefully.

    Gabe said, "Feeling all right now?"

    "Just one more swallow… ump… yes, that'll do quite nicely, I'm sure." He beamed.

    "Looks to me like you could use a little money, captain."

    "Lord, yes. Why the dock fees alone are a terrible worry in my mind, sir."

    "I was thinking more along the lines of a railroad ticket to Baltimore."

    A bright blue flame of hope burst up in Captain Flagway. "You don't really think that's possible!"

    "It isn't," Vangie said flatly. "But he thinks it is."

    The captain frowned. "I don't understand."

    "Ignore her," Gabe said. "It's only that what we have in mind is… well, maybe just a bit illegal."