Sea Urchins | Page 4

forget it," said Ralph, "but I didn't know how you'd like it."
The skipper looked at him dubiously, and pushing his cap from his
brow scratched his head.
"And I didn't know how the mate 'ud like it, either," continued the boy.
He relieved the skipper from an awkward dilemma by walking off to
the galley and starting on a bowl of potatoes. The master of the Susan
Jane watched him blankly for some time and then looked round at the
mate.
"You won't get much change out of 'im," said the latter, with a nod;
"insultin' little devil."
The other made no reply, but as soon as the potatoes were finished set
his young friend to clean brass work, and after that to tidy the cabin up
and help the cook clean his pots and pans. Meantime the mate went
below and overhauled his chest.
"This is where he gets all them ideas from," he said, coming aft with a
big bundle of penny papers. "Look at the titles of 'em--'The Lion of the
Pacific,' 'The One-armed Buccaneer,' 'Captain Kidd's Last Voyage.'"
He sat down on the cabin skylight and began turning them over, and,
picking out certain gems of phraseology, read them aloud to the skipper.
The latter listened at first with scorn and then with impatience.
"I can't make head or tail out of what you're reading, George," he said
snappishly. "Who was Rudolph? Read straight ahead."
Thus urged, the mate, leaning forward so that his listener might hear
better, read steadily through a serial in the first three numbers. The
third instalment left Rudolph swimming in a race with three sharks and
a boat-load of cannibals; and the joint efforts of both men failed to

discover the other numbers.
"Just wot I should 'ave expected of 'im," said the skipper, as the mate
returned from a fruitless search in the boy's chest. "I'll make him a bit
more orderly on this ship. Go an' lock them other things up in your
drawer, George. He's not to 'ave 'em again."
The schooner was getting into open water now, and began to feel it. In
front of them was the blue sea, dotted with white sails and funnels
belching smoke, speeding from England to worlds of romance and
adventure. Something of the kind the cook said to Ralph, and urged
him to get up and look for himself. He also, with the best intentions,
discussed the restorative properties of fat pork from a medical point of
view.
The next few days the boy divided between seasickness and work, the
latter being the skipper's great remedy for piratical yearnings. Three or
four times he received a mild drubbing, and, what was worse than the
drubbing, had to give an answer in the affirmative to the skipper's
inquiry as to whether he felt in a more wholesome frame of mind. On
the fifth morning they stood in towards Fairhaven, and to his great joy
he saw trees and houses again.
They stayed at Fairhaven just long enough to put out a small portion of
their cargo, Ralph, stripped to his shirt and trousers, having to work in
the hold with the rest, and proceeded to Lowport, a little place some
thirty miles distant, to put out their powder.
It was evening before they arrived, and, the tide being out, anchored in
the mouth of the river on which the town stands.
"Git in about four o'clock," said the skipper to the mate, as he looked
over the side towards the little cluster of houses on the shore. "Do you
feel better now I've knocked some o' that nonsense out o' you, boy?"
"Much better, sir," said Ralph respectfully.
"Be a good boy," said the skipper, pausing on the companion-ladder,

"and you can stay with us if you like. Better turn in now, as you'll have
to make yourself useful again in the morning working out the cargo."
He went below, leaving the boy on deck. The crew were in the
forecastle smoking, with the exception of the cook, who was in the
galley over a little private business of his own.
An hour later the cook went below to prepare for sleep. The other two
men were already in bed, and he was about to get into his when he
noticed that Ralph's bunk, which was under his own, was empty. He
went up on deck and looked round, and, returning below, scratched his
nose in thought.
"Where's the boy?" he demanded, taking Jem by the arm and shaking
him.
"Eh?" said Jem, rousing. "Whose boy?"
"Our boy, Ralph," said the cook. "I can't see 'im nowhere. I 'ope 'e ain't
gone overboard, pore little chap."
Jem refusing to discuss the matter, the cook awoke Dobbs. Dobbs
swore at him peacefully, and