The Pirate Shark | Page 8

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 headquarters during the day. It stood back of the chart house on the lower bridge, and the second mate or old Jerry Smith would spend many a "watch below" with them. Swanson, however, kept surlily to himself.
"Liverpool" Peters, the second mate, was a pleasant young Britisher who had been at sea practically all his life, while old Jerry was full of odd ways and tales which delighted both boys, though it was seldom that he would open up to them. He seemed to take a great fancy to Mart, and often when the boys were alone he would wander up, fill his cutty pipe, and settle down for a chat.
The crew was a strange lot. Of the nine men, five were brown-skinned Kanakas, but the other four were white, and seemed to be all old men, though they moved about spryly enough. Dailey was wrinkled and leathery, Birch had only one very black and sparkling eye, Yorke's mouth was twisted into a perpetual smile, and Borden was a quiet little man like old Jerry, gray-haired and respectful.
"They're a queer lookin' bunch," observed Bob one morning, as they left the wireless house and