Few days had been lost getting under way. He had gone straight up to
Los Angeles where he had sold his oil shares. They brought him
twenty-three hundred dollars and he knocked them down merrily. Now
with every step forward his lively interest increased. He bought the
rifles and ammunition, shipping them down to Barlow in San Diego. And
upon him fell the duty and delight of provisioning for the cruise. As
Barlow had put it, the Lord alone knew how long they would be gone, and
Jim Kendric meant to take no unnecessary chances. No doubt they could
get fish and some game in that land toward which their imaginings
already had set full sail, but ham by the stack and bacon by the yard
and countless tins of fruit and vegetables made a fair ballast.
Kendric spent lavishly and at the end was highly satisfied with the
result.
As the _New Moon_ staggered out to sea under an offshore blow, he and
Twisty Barlow foregathered in the cabin over the solitary luckily
smuggled bottle of champagne.
"The day is auspicious," said Kendric, his rumpled hair on end, his
eyes as bright as the dancing water slapping against their hull. "With
a hold full of the best in the land, treasure ahead of our bow, humdrum
lost in our wake and a seven-foot nigger hanging on to the wheel, what
more could a man ask?"
"It's a cinch," agreed Barlow. But, drinking more slowly, he was
altogether more thoughtful.
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