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

CHAPTER XIX
DAYS ON THE OCEAN

The weather remained fine for a full week, and with favoring winds the Stormy Petrel bowled along merrily on her course. The ocean rolled lazily in the warm sunshine, a few birds circled about the ship, and once they passed a steamer coming from the Hawaiian Islands, and a schooner from Manila, and that was all.

"Shall we stop at Honolulu?" asked Roger, of the captain.

"No. I thought of doing so at first, but now I shall make no stops until we get to Christmas Island, and from there we will go direct to Cavasa and then to Sobago. What we do after that will depend largely on what is done about a cargo."

So far none of the boys had experienced any seasickness, and they congratulated themselves on their escape, but Billy Dill put a little damper on their ardor.

"This ain't no weather to judge by," was his comment. "Wait till we get some cross-winds and the ships starts to roll. Maybe then ye won't be so settled in the stomach."

The few days on the ocean had done the old tar a world of good. His eyes were brighter and he was physically in the best of health once more. His mind, too, was clearer, and one day he announced to Dave that he had something to tell.

"I ain't quite sure as I have the exact straight on 't," he began. "A little on 't is still like a dream. But I know enough to make a putty straight story," and then he told his tale.

A good portion of it was not unlike the story of many sailors. When very young, he had had a strong desire to go to sea, and at his first opportunity had shipped as a cabin boy. From cabin boy he had become a foremast hand, and had been in such service more years than he could count. He had visited nearly every portion of the globe, and had been wrecked twice, once off the coast of Africa and once while trying to round Cape Horn.

Three years before had found him at Sydney, Australia, looking for a chance to ship. While down among the wharves, he had discovered a tramp vessel, the Mary Sacord, bound for Cavasa and other islands in the South Seas, and had signed articles for a year's cruise. The captain proved to be a brute, and there was fighting on the vessel from the time she left Sydney until Cavasa was reached. There, at the main seaport, Billy Dill went ashore and refused to go aboard again.

The captain of the Mary Sacord was very angry over the refusal of the seaman to continue on the trip, and threatened Dill with imprisonment, and even had the old tar arrested. But, at this juncture, two men came forward and aided the sailor in his trouble, and, as a consequence, Billy Dill was set free and the vessel went on her way without him.

One of the men who had helped Billy Dill was Dunston Porter and the other was Samuel Lemington. They were both Americans and fairly well-to-do. At first, they did not tell the old sailor much about their business, but they asked him if he wished to work for them, and he said he was willing, and they offered him thirty dollars a month and all his expenses.

The two Americans, so the tar discovered later, were after a treasure of precious stones, said upon good authority to have been hidden years before in the mountains by a former cannibal king of Cavasa and some other South Sea islands. The three journeyed into the interior of the island and spent months in looking for the treasure, but without success. Then came an earthquake and the volcano in the center of the island began to grow active, and all three had to flee to the coast in order to escape destruction.

It was on this treasure hunt that Billy Dill heard, through Dunston Porter, about the lost child that had been carried off by a nurse who was not mentally sound, although usually good-hearted. Dunston Porter had not said very much about the matter, for it seemed to hurt him a great deal – so much, in fact, that the old sailor did not think it best to ask for the particulars. But he knew one thing, that, try his best, Dunston Porter could not learn what had become of the woman and the little one, and he was half inclined to believe that both were dead.

"Well, did he say that the child was his son?" asked Dave, with deep interest.

"No, it was some relative of his, I think. I don't believe Dunston Porter was married."

"When you came back to the coast, what did this Mr. Porter do?"

"He and Mr. Lemington stayed in the town, trying to make up their minds as to what they'd do next. I got a chance to ship, and, as they didn't seem to want me any more, I sailed away, and then I did as I've told you before."

This was practically all the information Billy Dill could give concerning Dunston Porter and the missing child, although he told much more concerning the treasure hunt, and of several fights with the natives of the interior. He said the natives were a bad lot, and he wanted no more to do with them than was absolutely necessary.

"How old should you judge this Dunston Porter to be?" asked Dave.

"Forty to forty-five years old, my lad."

"Did he ever tell you where he came from?"

"Not exactly. But he was an American, and he knew a good bit about San Francisco, Chicago, and New York, and I remember he once told about hunting in the Maine woods and in the Adirondacks."

"He didn't say a word about coming back to the United States?"

"Not that I can remember."

With this information Dave had to be content. The story had been a strain on Billy Dill, and afterward he complained of a headache and of feeling dizzy. But a good night's rest restored him completely.

The sailor was at all times delighted to instruct the boys in the art of seamanship, and under his tutelage they learned rapidly, so that any of them could go aloft and make or take in sail whenever required. He also taught them how to make knots of various kinds, and many other things useful on board a ship. In the meantime Captain Marshall allowed them to read his works on navigation, and gave them a few lessons in steering, and in the use of the compass, sextant, and other nautical instruments.

"We'll be full-fledged sailors before this voyage is over," remarked Roger to his chums. "I declare, I almost feel as if I could handle a small ship already."

"Maybe you could, on the Leming River," rejoined Phil. "But when it came to a big storm on the Pacific, I rather believe you'd find it a different story."

So far, Phil had had but little to do with the supercargo, but now he asked the man if he could look over the books. Jasper Van Blott agreed, but the scowl on his face showed plainly that the move was not to his liking. Phil went over the accounts at his leisure, but could find nothing wrong in them. There were a few entries that looked odd, but the supercargo was ready with explanations concerning them.

"Well, have you found anything wrong?" questioned Dave, after Phil had spent three days over the books.

"Nothing much, Dave," was the answer from the shipowner's son.

"The supercargo isn't very friendly, I notice."

"Oh, he hates it, that I am going on this trip," answered Phil.

There seemed to be but one man on the ship with whom the supercargo was thoroughly friendly, and that was Paul Shepley, the first mate. The pair were together a large part of the time, and their conversation was frequently an animated one.

"I can't get it out of my head that those two are working together over something," said Dave. "Why, they are as thick as bees in a sugar barrel."

"I've noticed that, too," came from Roger. "Perhaps they are hatching up some mischief."

On the following day the weather became more unsettled, and occasionally the clouds showed themselves above the horizon. Captain Marshall gave orders to his mate that a strict watch should be kept for a blow.

"I guess we are in for it, now!" cried Dave, that afternoon. "It is much rougher than it has yet been."

"I know I am in for it," answered Roger. His face was white, and wore a troubled look.

"What's the matter, seasick?"

"I – I fancy so. My head spins like a top and my stomach is starting to do the same."

"Better go below, lad," said Captain Marshall, coming up. "It won't do you any good to remain on deck."

Roger shuffled off to the companionway, and Dave went after him. The senator's son was growing worse every minute, and it was not long before Phil announced that he also felt sick. Both went to their staterooms, and Dave did what he could to relieve their distress.

"If the old tub would only stop for a minute – just one minute!" groaned Roger.

"That's what I say," responded Phil. "Oh, dear! I'd give a hundred dollars to be on shore again!"

"I think I'd make it a thousand," groaned the senator's son. "Why, Dave, don't you feel it at all?"

"Well, I feel a little strange," answered the country boy, but he did not add that it was because he had to stand by and assist his friends. He made them as comfortable as possible, and then rushed to the deck, to get some fresh air and to get the matter off his mind.

A storm was certainly brewing, and Dave wondered how soon it would strike the Stormy Petrel and how long it would last. The black clouds were piling up in the sky and the wind came in unsteady puffs. Below, the clear, blue water had turned to a dark green.

The first mate was in charge of the deck and, so far, he had given no orders to shorten sail. Ever and anon a sail would crack in the wind and the bark would give a plunge in the sea. Dave walked forward to where Billy Dill stood by the rail, watching the sky anxiously.

"This looks stormy, doesn't it?" questioned the youth.

"Stormy? Great dogfish! I should allow as how it did, lad. We're in for a blow, an' a big one, too."

"Then isn't it about time to take in sail?"

"I should say it was."

"Then why doesn't the mate do so?"

At this question the old tar shrugged his shoulders.

"Reckon he wants to take the benefit o' all the breeze he can," he answered. "But it ain't the best thing to do – not to my way o' reasonin'. If he ain't keerful, we may lose a topmast, or more."

"I suppose you don't dare to say anything to him?"

"No. He's in charge, an' thet's all there is to it."

The storm continued to approach, and now several of the sailors looked anxiously at the first mate. He was evidently in a savage mood, and paid no attention to them.

"Unless he does sumthin' soon, we'll lose a stick, sure," said Billy Dill to Dave, in a low tone. "I never saw sech a contrary mate in my life!"

"Perhaps I had better speak to Captain Marshall," suggested the country youth.

"I wish ye would – it would be safer. But don't let Shepley know it – or he'll be as mad as a hornet at ye," added the old tar.

Leaving the bow, Dave hurried to the stern and toward the companionway. Here he almost ran headlong into the first mate.

"Hi! look where you are going!" ejaculated the man, roughly. "Have you no manners?"

"Excuse me," returned Dave. "Don't you think we are having a pretty big blow, sir?" he added.

"Oh, this won't amount to much," grumbled Paul Shepley. "Nothing to get scared about."

Dave said nothing to this. He hurried below, and a moment later stood in front of Captain Marshall's stateroom door. The master of the Stormy Petrel was taking a nap, but at the boy's knock roused up instantly.

CHAPTER XX
CAUGHT IN A STORM

"Who is there?"

"Captain Marshall, can I speak to you a moment?"

"Oh, so it is you, Porter! What do you want?"

"There seems to be a big storm coming up, and I thought I had better tell you about it."

"Why – er – isn't Mr. Shepley on deck?"

"Yes, sir – but I thought I had better tell you, anyway," went on Dave.

"Mr. Shepley knows what to do," answered the captain, rather shortly. He did not fancy having his much-needed nap disturbed.

"I suppose that is true, sir – but some of the sailors are getting very anxious. I don't care to mention their names, but they think some sail ought to be taken in."

The master of the Stormy Petrel arose and stretched himself. Then he put on the shoes he had dropped on lying down, and came out into the cabin. He gave one look at the barometer and his sleepiness vanished.

"I should say there was a storm coming!" he exclaimed, and ran for the companionway. He was soon on deck, and cast an anxious eye around.

"Mr. Shepley, why haven't you shortened sail?" he demanded, in a low but sharp voice.

"I didn't think it necessary, just yet," was the cool response.

"I don't agree with you," returned the master of the bark, shortly, and then, without delay, gave orders to take in fully half the sails, while the crew were ordered to remain in readiness to stow away still more of the canvas at a moment's notice. The sailors, for the most part, worked with a will, although there were several laggards, for laziness among certain classes of men is not confined to the land alone.

Captain Marshall was angry, and he did not hesitate to let the first mate know it.

"There is no sense in taking too many risks," he remarked, after his orders had been obeyed. "That storm is coming, as sure as fate."

"I wanted to make as much headway as possible before it struck us," grumbled Shepley. "We haven't suffered any."

"No, but we might have lost a topmast or a topsail. After this, you will please be a little more careful."

There was no time to argue the matter, for a little later the storm began in earnest. All of the sails were taken in but the fore sheet, and this was reefed down, allowing just enough canvas to fly to keep the bark before the wind. The breeze was turning to half a gale, and from a distance came the rumble of thunder. Then the sky grew still blacker and a flash of lightning illuminated the angry waters.

Dave had followed Captain Marshall on deck, but now he went below once more, to learn how Phil and Roger were faring. He found them both out in the cabin, having come from their staterooms in alarm.

"Is it very bad outside?" questioned the senator's son.

"Not yet, but I am afraid it is going to be," was Dave's reply.

"Phew, that certainly means business!" burst out Roger, as another flash of lightning was followed by a heavy peal of thunder. "I hope the ship weathers it all right."

"Captain Marshall is on deck, and he knows what he is doing," answered Dave. "I am glad I called him up," he added.

"Oh, so you called him up, did you?" came in a voice from the cabin doorway, and, turning, Dave beheld Paul Shepley there. The mate had come below to get his raincoat.

"Yes, I did," answered the country boy, boldly. Now that the truth was out, he did not mean to mince matters.

"Thought you knew more about running a ship than I did, eh?"

"I thought it was time to take in sail – and so did the captain."

"Humph! This blow isn't going to kill anybody, and we want to take all the advantage of the wind that we can. We are expected to make a quick trip, but we can't do it if we are going to haul down sail all the time."

"I am sure Captain Marshall will do what is right," said Phil.

"Really?" sneered the mate. "I didn't ask you to put in your oar."

"I know you didn't – but my father owns the vessel, and I shall stand by Captain Marshall and by my friend, Dave Porter."

"Oh, so it's something of a plot against me, eh?" snorted the mate, more angry than ever. "Well, don't let it go too far." And he turned into his own room, banging the door after him. A minute later he came out, wearing his raincoat, and hurried out on deck once more.

"He's a real nice man, I don't think," was Roger's comment. "My, how he would lord it over us, if he dared!"

"He is certainly sore," said Phil. "I must say, in a way, he and the supercargo are a team. When I get a chance, I am going to write to father and let him know exactly the sort of fellows they are."

The boys felt little like discussing the subject further just then, for the storm had now burst over the vessel in all of its mad fury. The wind was whistling through the rigging, making the masts and yards creak and groan, and the rain came down in sheets, sweeping the decks by the bucketful. It was with difficulty that the Stormy Petrel could be kept before the wind. The waves were running like so many big hills, with the bark first on a crest and then down in a valley between. The sky was almost black, lit up occasionally by flashes of lightning that were blinding.

"We'll go to the bottom, sure!" groaned Roger, for at least the tenth time. "I'd rather be at Oak Hall any day than in such a storm as this." He was still seasick, but the storm made him forget the ailment for the time being; and what was true of the senator's son in this regard was likewise true of Phil.

"I think I'll take another look on deck," said Dave, as the bark gave a pitch that sent them all against a partition.

"Take care that you don't fall overboard," returned Phil.

"I'll be on my guard, never fear."

Putting on his raincoat, the country boy made his way cautiously up the companionway. The moment he stuck his head into the open he realized that it was blowing "great guns," and more. The rain dashed violently into his face, drenching him completely.

"This is no place for you, lad!" bellowed Captain Marshall, trying to make himself heard above the wind. "Better go below again."

"I'll be careful," pleaded Dave. "I love to watch a storm – I always did, when I was on the farm. I never thought of hiding, no matter how hard it thundered or lightened."

The master of the bark gazed for a second at him in admiration.

"Well, I was the same," he said. "But be careful, and don't go close to the rail."

Dave remained in the vicinity of the cabin. When another flash lit up the scene, he saw Billy Dill near the bow, stowing away some rope in the most unconcerned fashion possible. The old tar was in his element, and said afterward that the storm had done him more good than gallons of medicine would have accomplished. "Saterated me with salt brine, an' thet's wot I needed," were his words.

"How do you like it, now?" asked Captain Marshall, coming up a little later, while there was something of a lull.

"I don't mind it," answered Dave, smiling. "It's a little excitement, and that is what I like."

"I am thankful that you called me when you did."

"I did what I thought was best, sir. But I reckon it has put me into a hole with your first mate."

"Why, did you tell him anything?"

"No, but he overheard me telling the other boys that I had called you. He didn't say much, but he showed that he was angry."

"Humph! Well, don't you mind, Porter. It was the right thing to do. Shepley is a good sailor, but once in a while he takes risks that I don't like. If he troubles you about this, let me know, do you hear?"

"Yes, sir; but I am willing to fight my own battles."

"I don't doubt it, for you are gritty, I can see that. Nevertheless, you let me know."

"How long do you suppose this storm will last?"

"There is no telling, perhaps twenty-four hours and maybe two or three days. We are paying up for that nice weather we had," concluded the captain.

Finding he could do nothing on deck, and that he was getting wet through, Dave went below and to his stateroom. He found Roger and Phil lying down as before, and as miserable as ever. A little later supper was announced, but Dave had to eat alone, for neither the captain nor the mate came to join in the repast. It was a meal under difficulties, and Dave did not remain at the table long. He asked Roger and Phil if they wanted anything, but both declined.

"Why, the very idea of anything to eat makes me sicker than ever," declared the senator's son.

The storm did not abate during the evening, and the three boys spent rather a dismal time of it in the cabin and the staterooms. As night came on, none of them felt like going to bed, although advised to do so by Captain Marshall.

"We have seen the worst of the blow," said the master of the Stormy Petrel, coming down about ten o'clock.

It was not until morning that Dave fell into a troubled doze, from which he did not awaken until Roger shook him.

"Hello! I went to sleep, after all!" cried the country boy. "What time is it?"

"About seven o'clock, Dave. There is something unusual going on on deck," continued the senator's son.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, but I am going up to see, and so is Phil."

The three were soon ready, and crawled up the companionway and out on the rain-drenched and slippery deck.

"We must man the pumps," they heard Captain Marshall cry. "And, Scader, report as soon as you can."

"Aye, aye, sir!" came from Scader, who was the ship's carpenter. "But I am afraid, sir, it's a bad leak to get at," he added.

"Have we sprung a leak?" cried Phil.

"We have," answered the captain. His face wore a serious look, and the boys saw that he was much troubled.

The sailors were at the pumps, and worked away with a will. Roger and Phil still felt too weak to take part, but Dave leaped to Billy Dill's side and worked as hard as any of the foremast hands. Leaving the ship in charge of the first mate, Captain Marshall went below, to learn what the ship's carpenter might have to say about the condition of affairs.

"We are bringing up a good deal of water, are we not?" asked Dave of Billy Dill.

"You have it right, lad; more water nor I care to see," answered the old tar.

"That means the leak is a bad one, eh?"

"Yes, some of the ship's seams must be wide open."

"Will it sink us?"

"I can't tell anything more about that than you, Dave. We must hope for the best," replied Billy Dill.