The Pirate Shark | Page 6

not so sure," returned Mart slowly, thinking of that firm chin and knotted hand. "I'm not so sure, Holly. You can't go by what you read in books, always. Sure, I know he's a nice old fellow, but he's a queer fish just the same. And as for bein' a pirate, there's that man Morris, who's workin' on the Tribune now as city editor. He's as quiet and nice as you ever see 'em, but they say he's been all kinds of things. That shows you, Holly, that you can't go by looks."
"Anyhow, I guess he's reformed by now," stated Bob decisively. "And pirating is out of date these days. He's only an interesting character, as the books say."
"He sure is," agreed Mart promptly. "Say, Holly, we're going to have a whopper of a time in the next month or so, ain't we?"
Bob grinned happily. "You're dead right, old boy! Say, it's noon--"
"By golly, that's right! When do we eat? I'm some empty."
"Right now. Ah Sing has the grub ready, I guess. Hike along, you pirate!"
And Mart hiked with a wide grin.
CHAPTER III
OFF FOR TRINGANU
It was Sunday afternoon. Joe Swanson and the second mate, "Liverpool" Peters, had departed that morning to enjoy their last few hours on shore. Captain Hollinger, Mart, and Bob were alone on board, save for the steward, and the three were sitting around a big pitcher of lemonade under the after-deck awnings. The financier-yachtsman was enthusiastically outlining his plans for sport during his trip.
"We're going to have a great time, boys," he exclaimed heartily, "I've got everything on board you can think of, from tackle for sharks to dynamite."
"Huh? Dynamite?" asked Mart quickly. "What's that for, Cap'n?"
"I don't know," returned the captain coolly. The two boys stared.
"What--you don't know?" asked Bob in surprise. His father laughed.
"No. I put it aboard at the suggestion of old Jerry Smith. He said we might have need for it during the diving operations, and I simply took his advice. He's pretty well posted on everything out in that section of the world, and promises me some exciting sport shooting tigers."
"I thought tigers were found only in India," put in Mart, puzzled. "That's where they usually shoot 'em, isn't it?"
"No," said the captain, leaning back and lighting his cigar. "No, Mart, you're off there. You'll find tigers all through the Malay States and up into China proper--I believe they've even been found in parts of Japan. We're going to have some great shooting, boys! And while I'm off with you in the jungle, or hills--for I'm not sure which we'll find--old Jerry can be managing the diving and dredging operations at the other end without bothering me till the work's ready for inspection."
"What's Jerry gettin' out o' this?" queried Mart thoughtfully.
"Oh, I'm to allow him one-third of the stock. Our consul at Singapore is already getting us the concession, and Jerry has letters from the Sultan of Tringanu to all the native chiefs."
"What're they like, dad?" Bob sat up. "The letters, I mean."
"They're written in Arabic," laughed his father. "There are a good many Arabs out in that part of the world, and I suppose Arabic is the usual written language; or rather, the Malays use the Arabic characters. They're all Mohammedans, anyway."
"Can't we take a squint at those diving outfits?" Mart looked out at the sparkling waters of the bay, and sighed. "Oh, I'd give 'most anything to go down and really get underneath the ocean! Where are the outfits, Cap'n?"
"Boxed up in the hold, Judson. There's no chance of our using them till after we get to Tringanu. Swanson knows a good deal about diving, and Jerry Smith promised to pick up a couple of men who were used to it, so we'll be all right there."
"Oh!" Mart suddenly sat up and squared around in his seat. "Am I under Swanson's orders, Cap'n?"
"Nominally, yes, as a member of the crew. But in actual fact, no. Why?"
The boy's face was troubled, and he hesitated an instant.
"Nothing much," he said at last, his gray eyes suddenly hard and cold. "Only, I had an argument with Swanson Friday, and by somethin' he said yesterday I wondered if I was under him."
"I guess not!" cried Bob indignantly. "You're an officer, and you're under no one but the captain--who is dad."
"That's right, Mart," nodded Captain Hollinger. "You take your orders from me, and that's all. Hello, there's Swanson now!"
The boys looked up to see the burly mate coming along the dock. Without heeding them, he crossed the gangplank and went forward, doubtless to remove his "shore clothes," in order to prepare for the night's work.
Captain Hollinger had heard the message left by Jerry Smith, saying that the old man could sign articles and draw wages if he liked. It looked to Mart as though