The Pirate Shark | Page 5

any kick to speak of, and they use it
on elephants in Africa. Why, she'll kill at a mile, Mart!"
"Mebbe," and Mart doubtfully laid the weapon down. "You'll have to
show me first, though. Whew! this looks like a regular hardware shop!
That's a beaut of a shotgun."
While it hardly seemed possible that the Austrian gun could be all Bob
said, Mart knew that his chum was well posted. However, there were
guns of all sizes and kinds, from target rifles to heavy twenty-gauge
Parker shotguns, as well as four ugly-looking automatic pistols.
Besides these there were half a dozen long hunting-knives, bandoliers,
belts, and other articles of equipment.

"Dad sent down his whole outfit," explained Bob gleefully. "We're
likely to get a chance for some fine shooting on the voyage. But say!
Come in here a minute! This'll make you sit up, sure!"
He hastily led his chum into the smoking-room beyond. A large
packing-case stood on the floor, and on the table was a small but
complete moving-picture machine, at sight of which Mart gave a yell of
delight.
"By golly!" he cried, examining it. "It's one o' those English things,
Holly--I was reading about it last week! You take 'em around with you
and--why, she's a wonder! No bigger'n a camera, either!"
In fact, the whole machine was no larger than a good-sized camera, and
Mart decided on the spot that he would be moving-picture operator. It
was Captain Hollinger's intention to take pictures of Kuala Besut, of his
prospective gold-concession, of the whole vicinity, and of his tiger
hunts if possible, and the two boys were wild over the prospect.
Suddenly Mart turned as a quiet voice broke in from behind.
"Hm--hm--beg pardon, gentlemen!"
A stoop-shouldered, gentle-faced old man stood in the doorway, cap in
hand. He had very watery blue eyes, his expression was mild in the
extreme, and long white hair fell on his shoulders; but for his tanned,
leathery skin, Mart would have taken him for an old clerk in a bank.
"Yes?" inquired Bob. "You wanted someone here?"
"Why, I was looking for the cap'n," said the old man. His voice was
soft, but carried far. "My name's Smith, Jerry Smith, quartermaster."
"Oh, you're the Jerry Smith that's to sail with us!" Bob spoke in no little
astonishment, for the old man looked anything but a tarry sailor. "Why,
dad's gone uptown for the afternoon, Mr. Smith. I'm Bob Hollinger, and
this is Mart Judson, who goes with us."
"Pleased, gentlemen," and the other jerked his head slightly, gazing

around with mild interest. "That's a sight o' hardware, here in the main
cabin. My stars! Is the cap'n going to shoot all those weapons, young
sir?"
"Well, he hopes to," grinned Mart easily, shoving back the mop of
black hair from his brow. "Going to take moving pictures, too. I'm the
wireless operator."
"Eh?" Jerry Smith looked astonished. "Why, young sir, that is
surprising! I did not know we--we were going to have a wireless
operator!" His watery eyes blinked a little, and his soft voice dropped
to a deeper tone. "Well, well! And I was just about your age, I imagine,
when I first put to sea!"
Mart hoped for a moment that the old man was going to spin a yarn, but
instead he only heaved a sigh and mopped at his nose with a huge
bandanna.
"Well," he said to Bob, "I'm sorry to miss your father, young sir. And
would you please to tell him that the crew'll come aboard to-morrow
night, and that I'll be aboard afore then with the papers? I'll have to sign
on as quartermaster, you know, and the cap'n--"
"Eh?" Bob struck in with a frown. "Why, you're going as a guest, Mr.
Smith! Dad doesn't want you to sign on at all."
"Just Jerry, if you please!" the old man smiled quietly. "Jerry is my
handle, young sirs, just Jerry. About signing on, now. I've never put to
sea yet, young sirs, but what I've been entered shipshape and Bristol
fashion, and I'm not going to start wrong at this time o' life. I want to be
on the ship's articles as quartermaster, that's all--that's all. I got my
discharges all proper, and if we should lose an officer, I've got a first
officer's ticket. I don't want any wages, young sirs, but I want to be
signed on all shipshape. It'll make me feel a sight better. You'll tell the
cap'n that?"
"Why, sure!" returned Bob heartily. "And I'm glad to meet you, Jerry.
You'd better keep in mind that I'm Bob, or Holly--either one hits the

right spot--and I don't like that 'young sir' business."
"Nor me," put in the gray-eyed boy, stepping forward with his hand out.
"I'm plain Mart,