Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XVII
THE TRIP TO THE FAR WEST

"My stars! what a very busy place!"

This was Dave's exclamation as he and Oliver Wadsworth hurried along one of the streets of New York City, on the way to buy some small thing which had been forgotten. They had arrived in the metropolis an hour ahead of time, and the country boy had stared at the many sights in wonder.

"It is one of the busiest cities in the world," answered the manufacturer, with a smile. "A fortune can be made or lost here in no time."

"I believe you. And the people! Why, there is a regular crowd, no matter where you turn."

"Don't you think you'd like the city, Dave?"

"I don't know – perhaps I should, after I got used to it."

Roger and Phil had not yet come in, and they had left Billy Dill at the depot to watch out for them. On returning to the station, Dave and Mr. Wadsworth met the three at the doors.

"Here we are again!" cried Roger, shaking hands. "And not very much time to spare, either."

"Is the train in?" asked the manufacturer.

"Will be in a few minutes, so the gateman said," answered Phil.

They saw to it that their trunks were properly cared for, and a short while after the cars came in and they climbed aboard. Seats had been engaged beforehand, so there was no trouble on that score.

"Now remember to write whenever you get the chance," said Oliver Wadsworth to Dave. "And if you run short of funds, don't hesitate to let me know."

"I'll remember, and thank you very much," replied Dave, and then the long train moved off, slowly at first, and then at a good rate of speed. Dave's long journey to solve the mystery of his identity had begun.

"Say, what mountain is this we're goin' under, anyway?" came presently from the sailor. "I noticed it when I came to New York."

"This isn't a mountain," laughed Roger. "It is New York City itself. We are under the streets."

"Great whales! Wonder they don't knock down the wall o' somebuddy's cellar!"

It was not long before they came out into the open, and then both Dave and the sailor looked out of the windows with interest. Phil and Roger were more used to traveling, and spent the time in pointing out objects of interest and in answering questions.

The fine coach was a revelation to Billy Dill, who, in the past, had traveled exclusively in the ordinary day cars.

"These here seats are better nor them in a barber shop," he observed. "An' thet little smoking-room is the handiest I ever see. But, boys, we made one big mistake," he added, suddenly.

"What's that?" asked Phil.

"Unless we tie up to an eatin' house on the way, we'll be starved. Nobody brung any grub along."

"Don't worry about that," said Roger, with a wink at the others. "I think I can scrape up some crackers and cheese somewhere."

"Well, that's better – although I allow as how we could have brought some ham sandwiches as well as not."

They had all had dinner, so nobody was hungry until about six o'clock, when a waiter from the dining-car came through in his white apron.

"First call to supper!"

"Wot's thet?" queried Billy Dill.

"Come and see," answered Dave, and led the way to the dining-car. When the old sailor saw the tables, and saw some folks eating as if at home, he stared in amazement.

"Well, keelhaul me, if this don't beat the Dutch!" he ejaculated, dropping into a chair pointed out to him. "Reg'lar hotel dinin'-room on wheels, ain't it? Never heard o' such a thing in my life, never! Say, Roger, better keep that crackers an' cheese out o' sight, or they'll laugh at ye!" he added, with a chuckle.

"You never saw anything like this, then?" asked Dave.

"Never. I allers traveled in one o' them, plain, every-day kind o' trains, an' took my grub along in a pasteboard box."

Though amazed, Billy Dill was not slow about eating what was set before him, and he declared the repast the finest he had ever tasted. After the meal he went into the smoking compartment for a smoke, and then came back to the boys.

"Feelin' a bit sleepy," he announced. "I suppose there ain't no objections to my going to sleep."

"Not at all," said Phil. "Do you want your berth made up right away?"

"Humph! that's a good one!" laughed the tar. "They may have an eatin' room, but they ain't got no bedrooms, an' I know it. I'll do my best in the seat, though I allow a reg'lar long sofy would be better."

"Just you wait until I call the porter," said Roger, and touched the push-button. "This gentleman will have his berth made up," he went on, as the porter appeared.

"Yes, sah."

"Make it up with real sheets, messmate," put in Billy Dill, thinking it was a joke. "An' you might add a real feather piller, while ye are at it."

"Yes, sah," answered the porter, with a grin. "Please step to another seat, sah."

"Come," said Dave, and arose and took Billy Dill to the opposite side of the sleeping-coach.

The old tar dropped into a vacant seat and watched the porter as he began to make up the berths. From a smile his face changed to a look of wonder, and when he saw the clean sheets, blankets, and pillows brought forth he could scarcely control himself.

"Cables, capstans, an' codfish!" he murmured. "Thet beats the dinin'-room, don't it? Say, maybe they hev got a ballroom on board, an' a church, an' a – a – farm, an' a few more things."

"Not quite," answered Roger, with a laugh. "But there is a library, if you want any books to read."

"Beats all! Why, this here train is equipped like a regular ship, ain't she?"

"Almost," said Dave. "Here are two berths; you can take one and I'll take the other."

"Good enough, Dave. Which will ye have?"

The boy said he preferred the lower berth, and Billy Dill swung himself up in true sailor fashion to that above.

"Makes me think o' a ship!" he declared. "I know I'll sleep like a rock!" And half an hour later he was in the land of dreams, and then the boys also retired.

Morning found them well on their way to Chicago, and just before noon they rolled into the great city by the lakes. Here they had two hours to wait, and spent the time in getting dinner and taking a short ride around to see the sights.

"This is as far west as I have been," said Roger. "The rest of the journey will be new to me."

"I once took a journey to Los Angeles," said Phil. "But I went and returned by the southern route, so this is new to me also."

"I have never traveled anywhere – that is, since I can remember," put in Dave. "But I am sure I am going to like it – that is, if I don't get seasick when I am on the ocean."

"Oh, I suppose we'll all get our dose of that," responded the senator's son.

"Maybe not," said Billy Dill. "Some gits it, an' some don't."

Nightfall found them well on the second portion of their journey to San Francisco. There was an observation car on the train, and the whole party spent hours seated on camp-chairs, viewing scenery as it rushed past them. Now and then, for a change, they would read, and Billy Dill would smoke, and the boys often talked over what was before them.

"My father said I might tell you the object of my trip," said Phil to his chums. "But he does not want anybody else to know of it, unless it becomes necessary for me to say something to the captain. The supercargo of the ship is a man named Jasper Van Blott. He has worked for my father for some years, and my father always thought him honest. But lately things have happened which have caused my father to suspect this supercargo. He sometimes disposes of certain portions of a cargo, and his returns are not what they should be."

"Then you are to act as a sort of spy," said Roger.

"I am to watch everything he does without letting him know exactly what I am doing. And when he makes a deal of any kind, I am to do my best to ascertain if his returns are correct. If I find he is honest, my father is going to retain him and increase his salary; if he is dishonest, my father will discharge him, and possibly prosecute him."

"Have you ever met this Van Blott?" asked Dave.

"Once, when he called on my father two years ago. He is a smooth talker, but I did not fancy his general style. He is supposed to be a first-class business man, and that is why my father has retained him. I do not believe Captain Marshall likes him much, by the way he writes to father."

"Have you ever met Captain Marshall?"

"Oh, yes, twice. You'll like him, I know, he is so bluff and hearty. My father has known him for many years, and he thinks the captain one of the best skippers afloat. He has sailed the Pacific for ten years and never suffered a serious accident."

"In that case, we'll be pretty safe in sailing under him," observed Roger. "It will certainly be a long trip – four thousand miles, or more!"

"Do you know anybody else on the ship?" asked Dave.

"I do not, and I don't know much about the ship herself, excepting that she is named the Stormy Petrel. Father bought her about a year ago. She is said to be a very swift bark, and yet she has great carrying capacity."

"Will you please explain to me just what a bark is?" said Roger. "I must confess I am rather dumb on nautical matters."

"A bark is a vessel with three masts. The front mast, or foremast, as sailors call it, and the main, or middle, mast are rigged as a ship, that is, with regular yardarms and sails. The back mast, called the mizzen mast, is rigged schooner fashion, that is, with a swinging boom."

"That's plain enough. Hurrah for the Stormy Petrel! Dave, we'll be full-fledged sailors before we know it."

"We must get Billy Dill to teach us a thing or two before we go aboard," said the country boy. "Then we won't appear so green."

This all thought good advice, and for the remainder of the journey they frequently talked nautical matters over with the old tar. Billy Dill had his book on navigation with him, and also a general work on seamanship, and he explained to them how a ship, and especially a bark, was constructed, and taught them the names of the ropes and sails, and many other things.

"You'll soon get the swing on it," he declared. "It ain't so much to learn fer a feller as is bright an' willin' to learn. It's only the blockheads as can't master it. But I allow as how none o' you expect to work afore the mast, do ye?"

"Not exactly," answered Phil. "But there is no harm in learning to do a sailor's work, in case we are ever called on to take hold. Somebody might get sick, you know."

"Thet's true, lad – an' I can tell ye one thing: A ship in a storm on the Pacific, an' short-handed, ain't no plaything to deal with," concluded the old tar.

CHAPTER XVIII
SAILING OF THE "STORMY PETREL"

As soon as the party arrived at San Francisco, Phil set out to learn if the Stormy Petrel was in port. This was easy, for the firm of which Mr. Lawrence was the head had a regular shipping office near the docks.

"Yes, she is in and almost loaded," said the clerk at the office, as soon as he learned Phil's identity. "I'll take you down to her, if you wish."

"Very well," answered the youth, and soon he and his chums and Billy Dill were on board of the bark. A gang of stevedores were on hand, bringing aboard boxes, crates, and barrels, and in the midst of the crowd were Captain Frank Marshall and Van Blott, the supercargo, both directing operations.

"Well! well!" ejaculated the captain, on catching sight of Phil. "Got here at last, eh? Glad to see you. So these are the young gentlemen to go along? Well, I reckon you'll find the trip long enough. Glad to know you, Porter, and the same to you, Morr. Yes, we are mighty busy just now. Got a little of the cargo in the wrong way – tell you about it later" – the last words to Phil. "I shall be glad of your company. Go down into the cabin and make yourselves at home, and I'll be with you presently."

"Thank you," answered Phil. "But is that Mr. Van Blott over yonder?"

"It is. Want to see him? Trot along, if you do." And the captain turned to his work once more.

By his general manner Captain Marshall showed that he did not wish to come into contact with the supercargo just then, and Phil walked over to that personage alone. The supercargo was a tall, thin individual with a sallow face and a thin, yellowish mustache.

"This is Mr. Van Blott, I believe," said Phil.

"Yes," was the short and crusty answer, and the supercargo gave the boy a sharp look.

"I am Phil Lawrence. I guess you do not remember me?"

"Oh!" cried the supercargo, and his manner changed instantly. "How do you do? I didn't think you'd be here quite so soon. I hope your father is well?"

"Yes, sir. Then you got his letter, Mr. Van Blott?"

"Yes, this morning. I haven't read it very carefully yet. He said something about you helping me, if I needed help. Well, I won't bother you much. I have done the work alone in the past, and I can do it now."

"I am willing to do all I can to assist you," said Phil, politely.

"I don't doubt it. But I won't trouble you – so you and your friends can just lie back and enjoy yourselves," returned Jasper Van Blott, smoothly. "No use in working, when you are on a vacation."

"Oh, I shan't call it work. I want to learn a little about the business. Some day, you know, I am to go into my father's office."

At this a slight frown crossed the supercargo's face, but he quickly smiled it off. "As you please," he said. "But excuse me now, I'm very busy. We are trying to get ready to sail to-morrow by noon, and there is still a great deal to do."

In some way Phil felt himself dismissed, and he rejoined Dave and Roger, who were standing by the companionway. All went below, to find the cabin of the Stormy Petrel deserted.

"This is a fine cabin," remarked Dave, gazing around. "It's as cozy as can be."

"Where is Billy Dill?" asked Phil.

"He said he'd go forward and await orders."

"Did he say anything about the vessel?"

"Said she looked to be a first-class sailer and in prime condition," answered the senator's son. "He was delighted with her."

"What do you think of the captain?"

"I think I shall like him," returned Dave. "Roger thinks the same."

"I don't like that supercargo," went on Phil, lowering his voice. "I am afraid I shall have trouble with him before the trip is over. He doesn't want me to know a thing about what he is doing."

A little later Captain Marshall came in and showed them the staterooms they were to occupy – one fair-sized one for Dave and Roger and a smaller one adjoining for Phil. Then he introduced the boys to his first mate, Paul Shepley, and to several others. When he got Phil by himself he asked the youth if the supercargo had said anything about the loading of the bark.

"Not a word," answered Phil. "Why do you ask that question?"

"We had some trouble just before you came on board. Mr. Van Blott wanted some things done one way and I wanted them another. He thinks he can run things, but I am going to let him understand that I am master here. I tell you this, because I want you to understand how matters are going."

"From what you say, I don't think you like Mr. Van Blott," said Phil. "If so, let me say, I don't think I shall like him myself."

"Oh, I can get along with him, if he will mind his own business and do what is right," answered the captain of the Stormy Petrel. "But he must not attempt to dictate to me, even if he is the supercargo."

"Well, I trust we have no trouble," answered Phil, with a sigh. But the trouble, he felt, was already in the air.

Late that afternoon their baggage came on board, and the boys set to work to establish themselves on the ship which was to be their home for so many weeks to come. In the meantime Billy Dill reported to the captain, and was assigned to his place in the forecastle as an extra hand at full pay. The old tar was pleased mightily, and the smell of oakum and bilge water appeared to act on him like a tonic. He was one to make friends readily, and soon established himself as a favorite among the foremast hands.

In the morning the boys took a final run ashore, purchasing a few things they thought they needed and mailing some long letters home. Coming back to the bark, they caught sight of the supercargo coming, with another man, from a drinking place on a corner.

"Humph! that shows he drinks," muttered Phil.

"I think most seafaring men do," answered Roger.

"Captain Marshall does not."

They had to pass the supercargo, who stood on the corner with his back to them, talking to the other man. Just as they went by, they heard Van Blott remark:

"Don't worry; this trip is going to pay me big, Bangor, and when I come back you shall have all that is coming to you." This was all the three boys heard, but it set Phil to thinking.

"I'd like to know how this trip is going to pay him big," said the shipowner's son. "Father says he gets his regular salary and a small commission."

"Perhaps he has some private deal he wishes to put through," suggested Dave.

"No; by his agreement he has no right to do any outside work. His time belongs exclusively to the Stormy Petrel and her cargo."

They returned to the bark, and quarter of an hour later the supercargo followed, with a flushed face that showed he had been imbibing more liquor than was good for him.

"Are you ready to sail?" demanded Captain Marshall, striding up.

"All ready," was the surly response, and the supercargo walked down to his stateroom and disappeared.

Orders were given to cast off, and in a very few minutes the bark was on her way from San Francisco Bay toward the Golden Gate. It was a perfect day, and by nightfall the harbor was left behind and land became a mere speck in the distance.

The first night on the bark passed pleasantly enough for the three chums. At first the quarters on the vessel appeared small to them, but they soon grew accustomed to the change. All slept soundly and they were out on deck very shortly after sunrise.

"Well, how do you like life on Mother Carey's Chicken?" asked Phil, when they were gazing at the rolling ocean.

"Mother Carey's Chicken?" repeated Dave, with a puzzled look.

"Oh, I know what he means!" cried Roger, with a laugh. "A stormy petrel is a bird that the sailors call a Mother Carey's chicken."

"What a name! I think I like Stormy Petrel better," observed Dave. "But, I say, isn't this just grand! A fellow can open his lungs and drink in ozone by the barrel!"

"And hardly a cloud in the sky," added Roger. "If this is any criterion, we'll have the finest kind of a trip."

"Well, boys, I see you are up on time," came from a little behind them, and now Captain Marshall strode up. "Fine sea this, and a fine breeze, too."

"How long will this nice weather last?" asked Roger.

"Humph!" The captain humped his shoulders. "No man alive can tell that. A few days, at least, maybe a week or more. But, sooner or later, we'll pay up for it. The finer the weather, the bigger the storm to follow."

"I shouldn't mind an ordinary storm," observed Dave. "But I don't want to be wrecked."

"No danger of that, lad. The Stormy Petrel can outride any storm likely to blow in these parts. She is one of the best vessels I ever sailed in – a man couldn't ask for a better."

"How much of a crew have you, Captain Marshall?" asked Phil.

"I have sixteen men, all told, besides the tar you brought along." The brow of the shipmaster wrinkled slightly. "They are all pretty fair men, too, excepting four, and those four Mr. Van Blott brought in."

"What's the trouble with the four?"

"They drink, and they don't mind as they should." Captain Marshall turned to Phil. "After breakfast, I'd like to talk to you on business in the cabin," he added.

This was a hint that Dave and Roger were not desired, and, accordingly, after the meal they left Phil and the captain alone.

"I've been studying your father's instructions to me," said Captain Marshall to Phil. "As I view it, you are to be a sort of assistant to Mr. Van Blott."

"If he will allow it."

"And if he won't?" The captain gazed at Phil sharply.

"Then, perhaps, I'll do something on my own account."

"Are you going to keep your eye on him?"

"Yes, but you need not tell him so."

"Don't worry – I shan't open my mouth, Philip. I am glad to hear of this, for, I tell you privately, Van Blott needs watching. He is a sly dog, and I am satisfied in my own mind that he has something up his sleeve."

"Do you know a man named Bangor in San Francisco? He was with Mr. Van Blott just before we sailed."

"Ah! I thought so! Yes, I know him, and his reputation among shippers is none of the best. He used to be a supercargo for the Donaldson-Munroe Company, but they discharged him for some crooked work. What were he and Van Blott doing?"

Phil told of what he had overheard.

"That confirms my idea exactly!" cried the captain of the Stormy Petrel. "There is something in the wind. You must watch out, by all means, and I'll do the same. This man must not be allowed to do anything wrong, if we can possibly prevent it."