The Pirate Shark | Page 8

going to bed?"
"Huh! With a scrap due to arrive? Not much!"
"Me neither. Let's get up in the bow."
So, treading very softly, they made their way to the bow and crouched
there as comfortably as possible. Hardly fifteen minutes had passed
when there came a tramp of feet from the wharf, and a confused
murmur of voices. Looking down the deck, by the gangway light the
two boys could see Captain Hollinger and "Liverpool" Peters waiting.
Swanson had disappeared, as it was his watch below.
The noise of feet swelled up into a steady stamping; then, as Mart and
Bob got to the rail and looked over, they made out the figures of eight
or ten men in the dim glow from the gangway. But, to their great
disappointment, there was no fight whatever, and neither did any of the
new arrivals seem to be intoxicated. Instead, all halted at sight of the
two waiting officers, and the boys saw the stoop-shouldered Jerry
Smith come forward and touch his hat.
"We've come aboard, sir, all shipshape and Bristol fashion."
"Very good, quartermaster," replied Captain Hollinger briskly. "Mr.
Peters, if you'll see that these men sign articles, we'll be off at the turn
of the tide. I'd better come with you, while you send someone after Mr.
Swanson. We'll want all hands--"

"On deck, sir," came the voice of Swanson, and Mart looked aft to see
the burly mate come to the gangway. Captain Hollinger nodded and led
the way below, followed by the first mate and the crew, all of whom
seemed to be decent-looking fellows, and far from what Swanson had
so gloomily predicted. But, as they vanished, the boys saw the
stoop-shouldered figure of Jerry Smith stop abruptly by the gangway;
then came Swanson's voice once more, aggressive and heavy.
"Look a-here, Shark Smith! I don't know what your game is aboard this
craft, but you lay a fair course or I'll trim you. Savvy that? This ain't the
old Coralie, not by a long shot. I'm workin' honest now, an' you ain't
goin' to get me from behind neither, like you got poor Bucko Tom!"
Mart, watching in wild astonishment, saw old Jerry crouch abjectly.
Then with the mate's final words the old man straightened up as if in
accusation. His white hair shone dimly in the light.
"You're right, Joe Swanson, you're right!" he said in his quiet voice,
that carried clearly and distinctly to the boys at the forward rail. "But if
it was me as got Bucko Tom, who was it got the officers o' the
Melbourne, eh? No, no, Joe Swanson! I'm a new man now, and let's
forget the past. Fish tell no tales, Joe; fish tell no tales. I'm an old man,
but I'm quartermaster o' this packet. I'm an old man, but I'm a new man
inside--"
And turning abruptly, muttering as if he was actually out of his head,
old Jerry Smith shuffled to the companionway and vanished. For a
moment Swanson stared after him as if in surprise, then Mart felt his
chum's hand on his arm.
"Better get out o' here, Mart! They'll be sendin' the men forward pretty
soon."
"You're right," Mart cautiously led the way aft, as Swanson began
ascending the ladder to the bridge deck. When he had vanished, the two
boys hurriedly gained their own staterooms, and Bob stopped with
Mart for a short chat.

"What d'you reckon those old fellows meant?" asked Mart, rumpling
his black hair in perplexity. "Think they knew each other before this?"
"Looks like it," agreed Bob thoughtfully, his blue eyes narrowed.
"What did they mean by 'getting' Bucko Tom, an' the Melbourne
officers? Do you s'pose--"
"Pirates!" cried Mart excitedly, and dropped his voice. "They were
pirates together on a ship called the Coralie! Bet you a dollar on it!"
"Then we're off to sea with a couple o' pirates aboard," responded Bob,
as they heard shouted orders above, and the engines began to throb.
"Shucks--forget it, Mart--we'll wake up plumb out of sight o' land.
We're off--hooray for Tringanu!"
And the Seamew had begun her long voyage.
CHAPTER IV
THE PIRATE SHARK
During the days that followed, the boys saw little of Captain Hollinger.
He was largely occupied with getting everything running smoothly
aboard ship, during his watches on deck, and except at mealtime he
kept to his stateroom at work over maps and papers.
Mart's work was extremely nominal, although necessary. He had few
messages to send out and invariably directed that answers be sent at a
given time of day, so that he had little more than four hours of work
each morning. Bob usually stuck close to the wireless house at this time,
and in fact the boys made it a sort of