"Tell me his name, at once!"—Page 121."Tell me his name, at once!"—Page 121.
"Dunston Porter!" fairly shouted the sailor. "Dunston Porter! That's it! I knew I would remember it sometime! Dunston Porter, of course it was! Funny how I forgot it. Better write it down, afore it slips my cable again."
"Dunston Porter!" murmured Dave, and the others likewise repeated the name.
"Ha! this is remarkable!" ejaculated Caspar Potts. "Dave, do you remember what you called yourself when you were first found and taken to the poorhouse."
"I do, sir. I called myself Davy, and Porter, and Dun-Dun."
"Exactly, and Dun-Dun meant Dunston. You were trying to repeat the name, 'Dunston Porter'!"
"That would seem to be the fact," came from Oliver Wadsworth. "And if so——" He paused significantly.
"You think my real name is Dunston Porter?"
"Either that, or else that is the name of some relative of yours."
Dave's heart beat fast. He felt that he was getting at least a faint glimpse of his past. He turned again to Billy Dill.
"Then this Dunston Porter was your friend?" he observed.
"He was, and he helped me when I was stranded," was the answer. "I can't give ye all the particulars, cos some o' 'em is more like a dream than anything to me. When I try to think, my head begins to swim," and the sailor wrinkled his forehead as before and twitched his eyes.
"Tell me one thing," said the rich manufacturer, "Do you think this Dunston Porter is still at Cavasa Island, or in that locality?"
"I suppose so—I don't know."
"When did you come away from there?" asked Professor Potts.
"It must be nigh on to a year ago. I came straight to 'Frisco, went up the coast on a lumber boat to Puget Sound, and then took passage to New York. Next, I drifted up here to look up some friends, and you know what happened after that."
"Was Dunston Porter alone out there?" questioned Oliver Wadsworth.
"Why—er—I can't say as to that. He didn't say much about himself, that I can remember. Once he told me about that child, but—but it'shazy—I can't think! Oh, it drives me crazy when I try to think! The roar of the sea gets in my ears, and the light from the lighthouse fires my brain!" And the old tar began to pace the floor in a rolling gait.
"He is growing excited!" whispered Caspar Potts. "It is too bad! Were he in his right mind, he might be able to tell us a great deal."
"Supposing we go out and have lunch together," suggested Oliver Wadsworth. "And then we can go for a ride on the lake."
He spoke to the sanitarium manager, and the upshot of the matter was that the whole party went out to a hotel for dinner. Previous to going, Dave gave Billy Dill the satchel and money and the bundle, which seemed to tickle the tar immensely.
"Douse my toplight, but I feel like old times again!" he cried, when they had had a good dinner and were seated on the forward deck of one of the lake boats, used to take out pleasure parties. "Oh, but I love the water!"
"I suppose this doesn't look anything like around Cavasa Island," remarked Dave, trying to draw the sailor out.
"Not much, my boy. Cavasa Island has a volcano in the middle of it, and once in a while that volcano gets busy, and folks run for their lives. An' they have earthquakes, too. Once I was out with Dunston Porter, and along came an earthquake, and the other fellow, Mr. Lemington, almost had his leg broken."
"Who was Mr. Lemington?" asked Caspar Potts, quickly.
"Why, he was Dunston Porter's partner in the treasure-hunting scheme. Oh, I didn't tell you about that, did I? Funny, how it slipped my mind, eh? They went to the volcano for the treasure. I guess that was when the baby disappeared—and that other man—I don't remember much of him, he was wild. It was misty, misty. But they didn't get any treasure, I know that. And then Mr. Lemington got disgusted and sailed for Australia."
"Did you ever see the baby?" asked Dave.
"Did I? Why—I think so. I don't remember."
This was all they could get out of the sailor, try their best, and, upon Oliver Wadsworth's advice, they did not bother him any further. Before returning to the sanitarium, the rich manufacturer called Dave to one side.
"Dave, do you want to go to Cavasa Island?" he asked, with a quiet smile.
"I do," was the prompt answer. "I was going to speak to you about it. You know I told you that Phil Lawrence is going—on one of his father's ships this summer. I'd like very much to go with Phil."
"Then you shall go, if we can make the necessary arrangements. Now, what I want to know is: Doyou not think it would be an excellent thing to take this Billy Dill along? The trip might cure him entirely, and he might aid you greatly in clearing up this mystery."
"Why, Mr. Wadsworth, you must have been reading my thoughts!" exclaimed the country boy. "I was going to suggest that very thing."
"Then we will speak to Dill about it before we leave him. Do you know when your friend Lawrence is to join his father's ship?"
"No, sir; but I can soon find out. And here is Mr. Lawrence's address, if you want it," added Dave, and wrote it on a card.
When the idea of sailing on the Pacific once more was broached to Billy Dill, his eyes lit up with pleasure.
"I'd like nothing better!" he cried. "I've been a-thinkin' I might ship again. I can't stay an' be spongin' on you folks any longer, it wouldn't be proper. I want to pay up, now Dave has found my money for me."
"Keep your money, Dill," returned Oliver Wadsworth. "You may need it later." And then he explained what Dave wished to do, and how the tar might accompany the youth on his long trip.
"I'll go—an' glad o' the chance," said Billy Dill, readily. "Just draw up your articles, an' I'll sign 'em any time ye want." And so the matter was settled.
Dave returned to Oak Hall late that night in a very thoughtful mood. So much had been done and said that he wanted time in which to think it over. It was not until the next day that he got a chance to talk matters over with Phil and Roger, both of whom listened attentively to his tale.
"It seems to me you are learning something, Dave," said Roger. "I hope the whole matter is cleared up before long. Then Plum and Poole will have to stop casting slurs on you."
"And now, Phil, I want to go out to the South Seas with you," continued Dave. "And, what is more, I am going to ask your father to find a place on the vessel for Billy Dill."
"I fancy he'll do that, if I ask him," answered Phil. "I'll write and tell the whole story, and I know he will be as much interested as I am."
"I wish I was going on that trip with you," said Roger. "Such an outing would suit me to a T."
"I guess there will be room enough for another passenger," answered Phil. "Why don't you ask your folks about it?"
"I will!" burst out the senator's son. "They are going to Europe, you know. I was to go along, but I'll see if I can't go with you two instead."
After that there was a good deal of letter-writing, and the boys waited anxiously for replies. In the meanwhile, the final examinations for the termbegan. Dave did his best to keep his mind on his lessons, and succeeded so well that he came out second from the top, studious Polly Vane heading the list. Roger came next to Dave, with Ben Basswood fourth, Phil sixth, and Sam Day seventh. Gus Plum was almost at the end of the list, and Nat Poole was but little better. In a lower class, Luke Watson stood second, Buster Beggs fourth, and Chip Macklin fifth. Shadow Hamilton, although generally a good student, dropped to tenth place in his class.
"I am more than gratified at this showing," said Doctor Clay, when the examinations were over. "The general average is higher than usual. You have done well, and I shall award the prizes with much pleasure."
After that there was an entertainment lasting the best part of the afternoon, and in the evening the students celebrated by a bonfire on the campus and a general merrymaking. They sang the school song over and over again, and gave the Hall cry:
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"To-night's the night!" whispered Phil, as he entered the school with his chums. "Just wait and see!"
"I must say, I don't feel much like fun to-night," observed Dave, as he hurried up the stairs to dormitory No. 12. "I am anxious to get started on that trip to the Pacific."
"Oh, that will hold for one day longer," said Ben. "I wish I was going, too. Roger, have you got word yet?"
"No, but I expect a letter to-morrow. If it doesn't come, I'll have to wait till I get home."
Dave was in advance and was the first to throw open the dormitory door. As he did so, a powerful smell of onions greeted him.
"Great Cæsar!" he ejaculated. "Smells like an onion factory up here. Somebody must have been eating a dozen or two. Open the window, Phil, while I make a light."
"Hello, what's this!" spluttered Ben, and fell headlong over something. "A decayed cabbage! Who put that on the floor?"
"Look out, everybody!" shouted Roger. "I just stepped on something soft. Phew! Some decayed sweet potatoes!"
By this time Dave made a light, and all of the boys who had come up gazed around the dormitory. Then a cry of amazement and anger arose.
"This is a rough-house, and no mistake!"
"Somebody has been heaving decayed vegetables all over the room!"
"Yes, and ancient eggs, too! This is an outrage!"
"Here is a rotten cabbage in my trunk!" called out Roger. He held the object at arm's length. "I'd like to soak the fellow who did it!" he added, savagely.
With caution, all made an investigation. They found their clothing and other belongings disarranged, and decayed vegetables, stale eggs, and sour milk were everywhere in evidence. It was a mess bad enough to make them weep.
"We ought to report this," was Phil's comment. "I don't mind real fun, but this is going too far."
"This stuff must have come from the cellar," put in Buster Beggs. "I heard the head cook telling Pop Swingly that the place must be cleaned out, or he would report it to the doctor. Swingly said he didn't know the bad stuff was there."
"Well, Swingly didn't put the stuff here," put in Dave. "It's the work of some of the other fellows."
"I know where the janitor is!" cried Ben."Shall I go down and question him? Maybe he can give us a pointer."
"Yes, go ahead," said Dave.
"And I'll go along," added the senator's son, and a moment later the two boys were off.
While the pair were gone, the others surveyed the damage done. The most of the decayed vegetables were swept into a corner, and then the boys did what they could toward straightening out their things.
"Here's a stale egg in my hat-box!" groaned Sam. "I'd like to throw it at some fellow's head!"
Dave had found his trunk open, and was searching the box with care. Suddenly he gave a loud cry:
"It's gone! It's gone!"
"What's gone?" queried Phil.
"The photograph! I had it among my books and papers, and the whole bunch is missing!"
"You mean the photo of the man who looks like you?" asked Sam, quickly.
"Yes." Dave gave a groan that came straight from his heart. "Oh, boys, I must get that back! I can't afford to lose it! I must get it back! It is worth more to me than anything in the world!" He was so agitated that he could scarcely control himself.
"Let us hunt for the picture," came from Buster Beggs, who knew about the photograph, and allstarted a search, which lasted until Ben and Roger returned.
"We've discovered the chaps who are responsible," said Ben, in triumph.
"They are Gus Plum and Nat Poole," asserted the senator's son. "Pop Swingly was throwing this stuff away in a hole back of the campus, when Plum and Poole came up. He heard them talking about playing a trick, but he didn't think they'd lower themselves by touching the mess. I suppose they thought that they were doing something quite smart."
"Dave's photo is gone," said Phil. "We have been hunting for it everywhere."
"You don't say! Dave, that is too bad."
"We ought to make Plum and Poole clean up this mess," came from Buster. "Let us try to capture them."
The suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys started to locate the bully and his crony. Plum and Poole were still below, but Shadow Hamilton announced that they were preparing to come up by a side stairs.
"We must get them, sure!" cried Dave. "I want that picture back, if nothing else."
Soon one boy, who was acting as a spy, announced the coming of Plum and Poole. The pair were allowed to reach the door of their dormitory, when they were pounced on from behind andmade prisoners. They tried to escape, but the crowd was too many for them, and towels pulled down over their mouths kept them from raising an outcry.
"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered Nat Poole, when he found himself and his crony in dormitory No. 12, and with the door closed and locked.
"It means, in the first place, that I want my things back," said Dave, "and especially a photograph that was between my books."
"Humph! that photo is burned up," growled Gus Plum.
"Gus Plum!" gasped Dave. He could say no more.
"Plum, do you mean to say you burned that picture up?" demanded Roger. "If you did, you ought to be tarred and feathered for it!"
"He wouldn't dare to do it!" came boldly from Phil. "If he did, I know what Dave will do—have him sent to jail for it."
"Bah! You can't send me to jail for a little fun," blustered the bully.
"That is no fun, Plum," put in Ben. "That photo was of great importance. If you burned it up, you will surely suffer."
"Is it really burned or not?" muttered Dave, hoarsely. "Answer me, you—you cur!" and he caught the bully by the throat.
"Le-let go—don't strangle me! N-no—it's all right. I was only fooling."
"Then, where is it?"
"In the—the closet—on the top shelf."
Dave dropped his hold and ran to the closet pointed out. True enough, on the top shelf, in a back corner, were the books, with the precious photograph between them. Dave lost no time in placing the picture in an inside pocket.
"You're a fine fellow, not to take a bit of fun without getting mad," grumbled Gus Plum. He did not dare to say too much in such a crowd.
"So you call this fun?" remarked Phil, sarcastically. "Fun! to play the scavenger and bring this stuff up here? Well, I must say, I don't like your preference for a calling."
"Look here, you needn't call us scavengers!" howled Nat Poole. "I am a gentleman, I am!"
"Well, you brought this up here, you and Plum."
"It was only a—re—a joke. Everybody has got to put up with jokes to-night."
"Well, you are going to put up with a little hard work," came from Roger.
"Work?"
"Yes. You and Plum are going to clean up the muss and put this room in apple-pie order."
"Huh! I see myself doing it!" stormed the aristocratic youth.
"You will do it," observed Ben. "Isn't that so, fellows?"
There was a chorus of approvals.
"So take off your coats and get to work," said Dave, who felt easier, now that he had the picture back. "I guess you both need a little exercise."
"I'll be hanged if I do a stroke!" roared Gus Plum.
Hardly had he spoken, when Ben caught up a pitcher of ice-water and held it over the bully's head.
"Take your choice, Plum!" he cried, and allowed a little of the ice-water to trickle down the bully's backbone. There was a roar of fright and a shiver.
"Oh! Don't do that! Do you want to freeze me to death!"
"Now, Poole, maybe you want some," added Ben, advancing. Poole tried to retreat, stumbled, and sat down heavily on a decayed cabbage, which squashed beneath him. He set up a roar.
"Now see what you've done, Ben Basswood! My best gray suit, too! I'll fix you for this!"
"Both of you must get to work!" declared Dave. "We'll give you two minutes in which to get started. If you don't start——"
"We'll roll you in the decayed vegetables and kick you out," finished Buster Beggs. With the term so nearly ended, he was growing reckless. "I'll play timekeeper," and he drew out his watch.
Plum and Poole begged and protested, but all to no purpose, and, badly scared, took off their coats and cuffs, rolled up their sleeves, and began to clean up the muss they had made. While this was under way, the other boys of the dormitory came up and viewed the scene with amazement and satisfaction.
At last the dirty job was at an end, at least so far as Plum and Poole could go. They had worked hard and were bathed in perspiration, and their hands were in anything but a clean condition. Both were "boiling mad," but neither dared to say a word, for fear the others would make them do more.
"Now you have learned your trade," said Phil, finally, "you can graduate as full-fledged scavengers. When you go out, don't fail to place that bag of nasty stuff in a corner of your own room. The smell will give you both pleasant dreams."
"Phil Lawrence——" began the bully.
"Just wait till I——" came from Nat Poole.
"Silence!" cried Dave. "Not a word, or you'll be sorry. Take up the bag. Now, march!"
The door was flung open, and with the bag of messy stuff between them, Plum and Poole marched forth into the corridor and to the stairs leading to the back yard. The boys of dormitory No. 12 watched them out of sight, then returned to their room.
"I'll wager they are the maddest boys in theHall," said Dave, when the door had been locked once more.
"Will they come back, do you think?" questioned Roger.
"I don't think so. But we can be on our guard."
They remained on guard for half an hour, but Plum and Poole did not reappear. They had had enough of their so-called fun, and they sneaked out of sight at the first opportunity.
But, without this, there was fun galore that night in the various dormitories. Two crowds of boys held feasts, to which even the monitors were invited, and dormitories Nos. 3 and 4 got into a pillow fight, in the midst of which Job Haskers appeared. The teacher was knocked over by a pillow, and then some other pillows were piled on top of him. After that he was hustled out of the room, and, completely bewildered, he rolled down the broad stairs, bumping on every step. Then Pop Swingly came up, followed by "Horsehair," the carriage driver, to quell the disturbance, and each received a pitcher of ice-water over his head, which made both beat a hasty retreat. But by one o'clock the school quieted down, and all of the pupils went to sleep as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
"Good-by to Oak Hall!"—Page 137."Good-by to Oak Hall!"—Page 137.
"Whoop! hurrah! Off we go! Good-by to Oak Hall!"
The carryall belonging to the school was moving away from the campus. It was loaded with students and behind it came two wagons, full of trunks and dress-suit cases. Back on the campus a crowd was assembled to bid the departing ones good-by.
"Write to me often!"
"Don't forget, Tom! Atlantic City, middle of August!"
"Be sure and ask him to join the team!"
"Yes, we are going to Casco Bay. Come up, if you can."
"Tell Jack——Say, get off my toes, will you? Tell Jack to come up to Lake Titus, back of Malone. We'll give him a dandy——"
"Toot! toot! toot!Now then, Horsehair, start 'em up, and be lively, or I'll miss that connection for Albany!"
"I'll start 'em up, all right, if you young gents will give me a show," responded the driver. "Say,Buster, don't use the whip. Give me the reins, Master Porter."
"Don't you want me to drive, Horsehair?"
"No, I want——Say, you in the back, give me my hat, will you?" shouted the driver, turning around. "I ain't a-going a step till I git that hat!"
"All right, Horsehair, darling!" replied Sam Day. "I thought I'd keep it to remember you by, but if you want——"
"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow Hamilton. He had caught the humor of the occasion. "A lady once——"
"No stories allowed," broke in Phil.
"I can't tell a story unless I speak it aloud," answered Shadow, tartly.
"Phew, what a pun!" came from Roger. "Somebody please dump him off for that."
"Hold tight, all of you!" called out the anxious driver, and with a lurch the carryall made a turn and started out of the academy grounds and along the broad highway leading to Oakdale. All of the boys shouted themselves hoarse, and horns and rattles added to the din. Such a thing as holding the students in was out of the question, and Doctor Clay and his assistants did not attempt it. The doctor and Andrew Dale smiled broadly and waved their hands, and only Job Haskers looked bored. The other teachers were busy in the building and did not show themselves.
This was the first load to leave, and another was ready to depart directly after dinner. Nearly all of the boys were in high spirits, and sang and "cut up" all the way to the town, much to the terror of Jackson Lemond, known only to the lads as Horsehair, because he carried the signs of his calling continually.
If there was one boy in the crowd particularly sober at times, it was Shadow Hamilton. Doctor Clay had communicated with his parents, and Mr. Hamilton and the master of the school had had a long conference regarding the pins and stamps that had been taken. Shadow's father had agreed to pay for the missing articles, if they could not be recovered inside of the next few months. In the meantime, a private detective was to be called in to watch the movements of Gus Plum.
At Oakdale the party split into three parts, one to go up the railroad line, another to go down, and the third to take the connection for Albany. Phil, Roger, Ben, and Dave took the same train, and managed to get seats together.
"I wish I had heard from my folks," remarked Roger. "But I think it is all right," he added, hopefully.
"Don't be too sure, Roger," said Dave. "I don't want you to be disappointed."
"I shall write to you as soon as I get home and can talk to my father," said Phil to Dave. "We'llbe able to arrange everything without much trouble, I am sure."
Near the end of their journey Dave and Ben found themselves alone, Roger and Phil having said good-by at places further up the road. As they neared Crumville, the heart of the country boy beat quicker. How many things had happened since he had left that town to go to Oak Hall!
"I see the old white church steeple!" cried Ben, as they came out of a patch of timber. "Looks natural, doesn't it?"
"I feel as if I had been away a year, instead of a few months," answered Dave. He was peering anxiously out of the window. "Here we come to the station, and, yes, there is Mr. Wadsworth's automobile, and Mr. Wadsworth himself and Jessie!"
Soon the train came to a halt, and they piled out, dress-suit cases in hand, and walked over to the automobile.
"How do you do?" cried Jessie Wadsworth, a beautiful miss of thirteen, with soft eyes and golden curls. "I told papa you would be on this train."
"How do you do?" returned Dave, dropping his suit case to lift his cap and shake hands. "I hope you are well."
"Oh, I am," replied the miss, shaking back her curls. "How do you do, Ben?" And then there was more handshaking.
Both of the boys were invited to enter the automobile, and did so, and in a few minutes Ben found himself at his own door. Then the machine was turned toward the Wadsworth mansion.
"I like to go riding with papa," explained Jessie. "I never go out with our man, though. Not since—you know!" and she turned a pair of grateful eyes upon Dave that made the boy color up.
"The machine appears to be perfectly safe, since we have had it repaired," put in Mr. Wadsworth. "But our man is better with the horses."
At the mansion Mrs. Wadsworth, an aristocratic but motherly lady, came out to greet Dave, followed by Caspar Potts, whose face was wreathed in smiles. All told, it was a homecoming that would have warmed the heart of any lad, and it made Dave forget completely that he was a "poorhouse nobody."
"You must tell me all about everything," said Jessie, after a somewhat elaborate supper had been served. "I don't want to miss a single thing!"
"Seems to me you are cutting out a big job for Dave," laughed her father.
"Well, I guess I can tell all she'll wish to hear," answered the youth, and seated at one end of a couch, with Jessie at the other, he told much of his life at Oak Hall, with its studies, its pranks, and its athletic sports. Dave could see the humorous side of a thing as well as anybody, and some storieshe told made Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth laugh as well as Jessie. On his trials he touched but lightly, for he could not dream of giving his little lady friend pain.
On the following day Nat Poole came home, and Dave met the aristocratic youth in one of the stores of Crumville. Poole gave him a glassy stare and did not speak. A few minutes later Dave met Ben.
"Just ran into Poole," said the latter, "and what do you think, he made out that he didn't see me."
"He was in Parsons' store, but he wouldn't speak to me, either," answered Dave. "He must feel awfully sore. But I shan't mind."
"Nor I, Dave. I never did like that fellow, and I don't like his father, either. By the way, have you heard anything more about the farm that belongs to Professor Potts?"
"Yes, and I am glad, and so is he, that we didn't let Nat's father get hold of it. The new trolley company is going to put a line past it, and Mr. Wadsworth says it will be quite valuable in time."
Two days passed, and then Dave got long letters from Phil and Roger. Senator Morr had been to see Mr. Lawrence and had arranged to have his son go on the long trip to the South Seas. Roger was almost wild with joy, and said he was going to prepare for the trip immediately.
The letter from Phil told Dave that the startfor San Francisco was to be made on the following Monday morning. All the boys were to meet at the Grand Central Depot, in New York City, and take the limited express which left for Chicago at noon.
"I will go with you as far as New York," announced Mr. Wadsworth. "I wish to see that your journey is safely begun."
The last days of the week were busy ones for Dave. A steamer trunk was procured for him, and into this was packed his outfit, including a semi-nautical suit that fitted him to perfection and gave him quite a sailor look.
"I suppose you'll be a regular sailor by the time you come back," said Jessie.
"I don't know about that," answered Dave. "I am not going for that purpose," and his tone grew serious.
"Oh, I know that, Dave. I hope you find what you are going for. But—but——"
"But what, Jessie?"
"Oh, I—I don't want you to leave us, Dave. If you find a father, or an uncle, or brother, or somebody like that, I suppose you won't stay with us any more." And the young miss pouted engagingly.
"I'll certainly not care to leave you, Jessie," he answered, gently. "But you cannot blame me for wanting to find out who I am, I am sure."
"Oh, no, Dave!"
"I don't want to remain a nobody and have folks shun me on that account."
"Who would do such a thing?" she asked, her eyes opening widely.
"Oh, a good many folks."
"It is very mean of them," came from the little miss, firmly. "But, never mind, Dave, I'll not shun you," she went on, catching his hand and squeezing it as hard as she could. "We're going to be just like a brother and sister always, aren't we?"
"If you say so."
"Don't you say so, Dave?"
"Yes, Jessie."
"Then that is settled, and we won't talk about it any more. Shun you! I just want to see them do it! I won't speak to anybody that does such a thing!" And Jessie looked as tragic as a miss of thirteen can look.
Among the things provided by thoughtful Mr. Wadsworth for Dave was a money belt, and in this was placed a fair amount of bankbills, and also a letter of credit.
"Mr. Wadsworth, you are more than kind!" cried the country boy, and something like tears stood in his honest eyes. "How can I ever repay you?"
"In one way only, Dave. By making a real man of yourself."
"I shall do my best, sir."
"Then that is all I ask."
Billy Dill had been communicated with, and Caspar Potts went after the tar and brought him to Crumville, where Oliver Wadsworth procured the sailor a new outfit. Billy Dill's health was now restored completely, and the only thing he suffered from was a slight loss of memory, and even that defect seemed to be gradually wearing away.
"I'll be the happiest tar afloat when I have the rolling ocean under me once more," said he to Dave. "Cables an' capstans! but I do love the salt breeze!"
"Well, you'll soon get enough of it," answered the boy. "We have a long trip before us."
"My stars! what a very busy place!"
This was Dave's exclamation as he and Oliver Wadsworth hurried along one of the streets of New York City, on the way to buy some small thing which had been forgotten. They had arrived in the metropolis an hour ahead of time, and the country boy had stared at the many sights in wonder.
"It is one of the busiest cities in the world," answered the manufacturer, with a smile. "A fortune can be made or lost here in no time."
"I believe you. And the people! Why, there is a regular crowd, no matter where you turn."
"Don't you think you'd like the city, Dave?"
"I don't know—perhaps I should, after I got used to it."
Roger and Phil had not yet come in, and they had left Billy Dill at the depot to watch out for them. On returning to the station, Dave and Mr. Wadsworth met the three at the doors.
"Here we are again!" cried Roger, shaking hands. "And not very much time to spare, either."
"Is the train in?" asked the manufacturer.
"Will be in a few minutes, so the gateman said," answered Phil.
They saw to it that their trunks were properly cared for, and a short while after the cars came in and they climbed aboard. Seats had been engaged beforehand, so there was no trouble on that score.
"Now remember to write whenever you get the chance," said Oliver Wadsworth to Dave. "And if you run short of funds, don't hesitate to let me know."
"I'll remember, and thank you very much," replied Dave, and then the long train moved off, slowly at first, and then at a good rate of speed. Dave's long journey to solve the mystery of his identity had begun.
"Say, what mountain is this we're goin' under, anyway?" came presently from the sailor. "I noticed it when I came to New York."
"This isn't a mountain," laughed Roger. "It is New York City itself. We are under the streets."
"Great whales! Wonder they don't knock down the wall o' somebuddy's cellar!"
It was not long before they came out into the open, and then both Dave and the sailor looked out of the windows with interest. Phil and Roger were more used to traveling, and spent the time in pointing out objects of interest and in answering questions.
The fine coach was a revelation to Billy Dill, who, in the past, had traveled exclusively in the ordinary day cars.
"These here seats are better nor them in a barber shop," he observed. "An' thet little smoking-room is the handiest I ever see. But, boys, we made one big mistake," he added, suddenly.
"What's that?" asked Phil.
"Unless we tie up to an eatin' house on the way, we'll be starved. Nobody brung any grub along."
"Don't worry about that," said Roger, with a wink at the others. "I think I can scrape up some crackers and cheese somewhere."
"Well, that's better—although I allow as how we could have brought some ham sandwiches as well as not."
They had all had dinner, so nobody was hungry until about six o'clock, when a waiter from the dining-car came through in his white apron.
"First call to supper!"
"Wot's thet?" queried Billy Dill.
"Come and see," answered Dave, and led the way to the dining-car. When the old sailor saw the tables, and saw some folks eating as if at home, he stared in amazement.
"Well, keelhaul me, if this don't beat the Dutch!" he ejaculated, dropping into a chair pointed out to him. "Reg'lar hotel dinin'-room on wheels, ain't it? Never heard o' such a thing inmy life, never! Say, Roger, better keep that crackers an' cheese out o' sight, or they'll laugh at ye!" he added, with a chuckle.
"You never saw anything like this, then?" asked Dave.
"Never. I allers traveled in one o' them, plain, every-day kind o' trains, an' took my grub along in a pasteboard box."
Though amazed, Billy Dill was not slow about eating what was set before him, and he declared the repast the finest he had ever tasted. After the meal he went into the smoking compartment for a smoke, and then came back to the boys.
"Feelin' a bit sleepy," he announced. "I suppose there ain't no objections to my going to sleep."
"Not at all," said Phil. "Do you want your berth made up right away?"
"Humph! that's a good one!" laughed the tar. "They may have an eatin' room, but they ain't got no bedrooms, an' I know it. I'll do my best in the seat, though I allow a reg'lar long sofy would be better."
"Just you wait until I call the porter," said Roger, and touched the push-button. "This gentleman will have his berth made up," he went on, as the porter appeared.
"Yes, sah."
"Make it up with real sheets, messmate," put inBilly Dill, thinking it was a joke. "An' you might add a real feather piller, while ye are at it."
"Yes, sah," answered the porter, with a grin. "Please step to another seat, sah."
"Come," said Dave, and arose and took Billy Dill to the opposite side of the sleeping-coach.
The old tar dropped into a vacant seat and watched the porter as he began to make up the berths. From a smile his face changed to a look of wonder, and when he saw the clean sheets, blankets, and pillows brought forth he could scarcely control himself.
"Cables, capstans, an' codfish!" he murmured. "Thet beats the dinin'-room, don't it? Say, maybe they hev got a ballroom on board, an' a church, an' a—a—farm, an' a few more things."
"Not quite," answered Roger, with a laugh. "But there is a library, if you want any books to read."
"Beats all! Why, this here train is equipped like a regular ship, ain't she?"
"Almost," said Dave. "Here are two berths; you can take one and I'll take the other."
"Good enough, Dave. Which will ye have?"
The boy said he preferred the lower berth, and Billy Dill swung himself up in true sailor fashion to that above.
"Makes me think o' a ship!" he declared. "I know I'll sleep like a rock!" And half an hourlater he was in the land of dreams, and then the boys also retired.
Morning found them well on their way to Chicago, and just before noon they rolled into the great city by the lakes. Here they had two hours to wait, and spent the time in getting dinner and taking a short ride around to see the sights.
"This is as far west as I have been," said Roger. "The rest of the journey will be new to me."
"I once took a journey to Los Angeles," said Phil. "But I went and returned by the southern route, so this is new to me also."
"I have never traveled anywhere—that is, since I can remember," put in Dave. "But I am sure I am going to like it—that is, if I don't get seasick when I am on the ocean."
"Oh, I suppose we'll all get our dose of that," responded the senator's son.
"Maybe not," said Billy Dill. "Some gits it, an' some don't."
Nightfall found them well on the second portion of their journey to San Francisco. There was an observation car on the train, and the whole party spent hours seated on camp-chairs, viewing scenery as it rushed past them. Now and then, for a change, they would read, and Billy Dill would smoke, and the boys often talked over what was before them.
"My father said I might tell you the object ofmy trip," said Phil to his chums. "But he does not want anybody else to know of it, unless it becomes necessary for me to say something to the captain. The supercargo of the ship is a man named Jasper Van Blott. He has worked for my father for some years, and my father always thought him honest. But lately things have happened which have caused my father to suspect this supercargo. He sometimes disposes of certain portions of a cargo, and his returns are not what they should be."
"Then you are to act as a sort of spy," said Roger.
"I am to watch everything he does without letting him know exactly what I am doing. And when he makes a deal of any kind, I am to do my best to ascertain if his returns are correct. If I find he is honest, my father is going to retain him and increase his salary; if he is dishonest, my father will discharge him, and possibly prosecute him."
"Have you ever met this Van Blott?" asked Dave.
"Once, when he called on my father two years ago. He is a smooth talker, but I did not fancy his general style. He is supposed to be a first-class business man, and that is why my father has retained him. I do not believe Captain Marshall likes him much, by the way he writes to father."
"Have you ever met Captain Marshall?"
"Oh, yes, twice. You'll like him, I know, heis so bluff and hearty. My father has known him for many years, and he thinks the captain one of the best skippers afloat. He has sailed the Pacific for ten years and never suffered a serious accident."
"In that case, we'll be pretty safe in sailing under him," observed Roger. "It will certainly be a long trip—four thousand miles, or more!"
"Do you know anybody else on the ship?" asked Dave.
"I do not, and I don't know much about the ship herself, excepting that she is named theStormy Petrel. Father bought her about a year ago. She is said to be a very swift bark, and yet she has great carrying capacity."
"Will you please explain to me just what a bark is?" said Roger. "I must confess I am rather dumb on nautical matters."
"A bark is a vessel with three masts. The front mast, or foremast, as sailors call it, and the main, or middle, mast are rigged as a ship, that is, with regular yardarms and sails. The back mast, called the mizzen mast, is rigged schooner fashion, that is, with a swinging boom."
"That's plain enough. Hurrah for theStormy Petrel! Dave, we'll be full-fledged sailors before we know it."
"We must get Billy Dill to teach us a thing or two before we go aboard," said the country boy. "Then we won't appear so green."
This all thought good advice, and for the remainder of the journey they frequently talked nautical matters over with the old tar. Billy Dill had his book on navigation with him, and also a general work on seamanship, and he explained to them how a ship, and especially a bark, was constructed, and taught them the names of the ropes and sails, and many other things.
"You'll soon get the swing on it," he declared. "It ain't so much to learn fer a feller as is bright an' willin' to learn. It's only the blockheads as can't master it. But I allow as how none o' you expect to work afore the mast, do ye?"
"Not exactly," answered Phil. "But there is no harm in learning to do a sailor's work, in case we are ever called on to take hold. Somebody might get sick, you know."
"Thet's true, lad—an' I can tell ye one thing: A ship in a storm on the Pacific, an' short-handed, ain't no plaything to deal with," concluded the old tar.
As soon as the party arrived at San Francisco, Phil set out to learn if theStormy Petrelwas in port. This was easy, for the firm of which Mr. Lawrence was the head had a regular shipping office near the docks.
"Yes, she is in and almost loaded," said the clerk at the office, as soon as he learned Phil's identity. "I'll take you down to her, if you wish."
"Very well," answered the youth, and soon he and his chums and Billy Dill were on board of the bark. A gang of stevedores were on hand, bringing aboard boxes, crates, and barrels, and in the midst of the crowd were Captain Frank Marshall and Van Blott, the supercargo, both directing operations.
"Well! well!" ejaculated the captain, on catching sight of Phil. "Got here at last, eh? Glad to see you. So these are the young gentlemen to go along? Well, I reckon you'll find the trip long enough. Glad to know you, Porter, and the same to you, Morr. Yes, we are mighty busy just now. Got a little of the cargo in the wrong way—tell youabout it later"—the last words to Phil. "I shall be glad of your company. Go down into the cabin and make yourselves at home, and I'll be with you presently."
"Thank you," answered Phil. "But is that Mr. Van Blott over yonder?"
"It is. Want to see him? Trot along, if you do." And the captain turned to his work once more.
By his general manner Captain Marshall showed that he did not wish to come into contact with the supercargo just then, and Phil walked over to that personage alone. The supercargo was a tall, thin individual with a sallow face and a thin, yellowish mustache.
"This is Mr. Van Blott, I believe," said Phil.
"Yes," was the short and crusty answer, and the supercargo gave the boy a sharp look.
"I am Phil Lawrence. I guess you do not remember me?"
"Oh!" cried the supercargo, and his manner changed instantly. "How do you do? I didn't think you'd be here quite so soon. I hope your father is well?"
"Yes, sir. Then you got his letter, Mr. Van Blott?"
"Yes, this morning. I haven't read it very carefully yet. He said something about you helping me, if I needed help. Well, I won't bother youmuch. I have done the work alone in the past, and I can do it now."
"I am willing to do all I can to assist you," said Phil, politely.
"I don't doubt it. But I won't trouble you—so you and your friends can just lie back and enjoy yourselves," returned Jasper Van Blott, smoothly. "No use in working, when you are on a vacation."
"Oh, I shan't call it work. I want to learn a little about the business. Some day, you know, I am to go into my father's office."
At this a slight frown crossed the supercargo's face, but he quickly smiled it off. "As you please," he said. "But excuse me now, I'm very busy. We are trying to get ready to sail to-morrow by noon, and there is still a great deal to do."
In some way Phil felt himself dismissed, and he rejoined Dave and Roger, who were standing by the companionway. All went below, to find the cabin of theStormy Petreldeserted.
"This is a fine cabin," remarked Dave, gazing around. "It's as cozy as can be."
"Where is Billy Dill?" asked Phil.
"He said he'd go forward and await orders."
"Did he say anything about the vessel?"
"Said she looked to be a first-class sailer and in prime condition," answered the senator's son. "He was delighted with her."
"What do you think of the captain?"
"I think I shall like him," returned Dave. "Roger thinks the same."
"I don't like that supercargo," went on Phil, lowering his voice. "I am afraid I shall have trouble with him before the trip is over. He doesn't want me to know a thing about what he is doing."
A little later Captain Marshall came in and showed them the staterooms they were to occupy—one fair-sized one for Dave and Roger and a smaller one adjoining for Phil. Then he introduced the boys to his first mate, Paul Shepley, and to several others. When he got Phil by himself he asked the youth if the supercargo had said anything about the loading of the bark.
"Not a word," answered Phil. "Why do you ask that question?"
"We had some trouble just before you came on board. Mr. Van Blott wanted some things done one way and I wanted them another. He thinks he can run things, but I am going to let him understand that I am master here. I tell you this, because I want you to understand how matters are going."
"From what you say, I don't think you like Mr. Van Blott," said Phil. "If so, let me say, I don't think I shall like him myself."
"Oh, I can get along with him, if he will mind his own business and do what is right," answeredthe captain of theStormy Petrel. "But he must not attempt to dictate to me, even if he is the supercargo."
"Well, I trust we have no trouble," answered Phil, with a sigh. But the trouble, he felt, was already in the air.
Late that afternoon their baggage came on board, and the boys set to work to establish themselves on the ship which was to be their home for so many weeks to come. In the meantime Billy Dill reported to the captain, and was assigned to his place in the forecastle as an extra hand at full pay. The old tar was pleased mightily, and the smell of oakum and bilge water appeared to act on him like a tonic. He was one to make friends readily, and soon established himself as a favorite among the foremast hands.
In the morning the boys took a final run ashore, purchasing a few things they thought they needed and mailing some long letters home. Coming back to the bark, they caught sight of the supercargo coming, with another man, from a drinking place on a corner.
"Humph! that shows he drinks," muttered Phil.
"I think most seafaring men do," answered Roger.
"Captain Marshall does not."
They had to pass the supercargo, who stood on the corner with his back to them, talking to theother man. Just as they went by, they heard Van Blott remark:
"Don't worry; this trip is going to pay me big, Bangor, and when I come back you shall have all that is coming to you." This was all the three boys heard, but it set Phil to thinking.
"I'd like to know how this trip is going to pay him big," said the shipowner's son. "Father says he gets his regular salary and a small commission."
"Perhaps he has some private deal he wishes to put through," suggested Dave.
"No; by his agreement he has no right to do any outside work. His time belongs exclusively to theStormy Petreland her cargo."
They returned to the bark, and quarter of an hour later the supercargo followed, with a flushed face that showed he had been imbibing more liquor than was good for him.
"Are you ready to sail?" demanded Captain Marshall, striding up.
"All ready," was the surly response, and the supercargo walked down to his stateroom and disappeared.
Orders were given to cast off, and in a very few minutes the bark was on her way from San Francisco Bay toward the Golden Gate. It was a perfect day, and by nightfall the harbor was left behind and land became a mere speck in the distance.
The first night on the bark passed pleasantly enough for the three chums. At first the quarters on the vessel appeared small to them, but they soon grew accustomed to the change. All slept soundly and they were out on deck very shortly after sunrise.
"Well, how do you like life onMother Carey's Chicken?" asked Phil, when they were gazing at the rolling ocean.
"Mother Carey's Chicken?" repeated Dave, with a puzzled look.
"Oh, I know what he means!" cried Roger, with a laugh. "A stormy petrel is a bird that the sailors call a Mother Carey's chicken."
"What a name! I think I likeStormy Petrelbetter," observed Dave. "But, I say, isn't this just grand! A fellow can open his lungs and drink in ozone by the barrel!"
"And hardly a cloud in the sky," added Roger. "If this is any criterion, we'll have the finest kind of a trip."
"Well, boys, I see you are up on time," came from a little behind them, and now Captain Marshall strode up. "Fine sea this, and a fine breeze, too."
"How long will this nice weather last?" asked Roger.
"Humph!" The captain humped his shoulders. "No man alive can tell that. A few days, at least,maybe a week or more. But, sooner or later, we'll pay up for it. The finer the weather, the bigger the storm to follow."
"I shouldn't mind an ordinary storm," observed Dave. "But I don't want to be wrecked."
"No danger of that, lad. TheStormy Petrelcan outride any storm likely to blow in these parts. She is one of the best vessels I ever sailed in—a man couldn't ask for a better."
"How much of a crew have you, Captain Marshall?" asked Phil.
"I have sixteen men, all told, besides the tar you brought along." The brow of the shipmaster wrinkled slightly. "They are all pretty fair men, too, excepting four, and those four Mr. Van Blott brought in."
"What's the trouble with the four?"
"They drink, and they don't mind as they should." Captain Marshall turned to Phil. "After breakfast, I'd like to talk to you on business in the cabin," he added.
This was a hint that Dave and Roger were not desired, and, accordingly, after the meal they left Phil and the captain alone.
"I've been studying your father's instructions to me," said Captain Marshall to Phil. "As I view it, you are to be a sort of assistant to Mr. Van Blott."
"If he will allow it."
"And if he won't?" The captain gazed at Phil sharply.
"Then, perhaps, I'll do something on my own account."
"Are you going to keep your eye on him?"
"Yes, but you need not tell him so."
"Don't worry—I shan't open my mouth, Philip. I am glad to hear of this, for, I tell you privately, Van Blott needs watching. He is a sly dog, and I am satisfied in my own mind that he has something up his sleeve."
"Do you know a man named Bangor in San Francisco? He was with Mr. Van Blott just before we sailed."
"Ah! I thought so! Yes, I know him, and his reputation among shippers is none of the best. He used to be a supercargo for the Donaldson-Munroe Company, but they discharged him for some crooked work. What were he and Van Blott doing?"
Phil told of what he had overheard.
"That confirms my idea exactly!" cried the captain of theStormy Petrel. "There is something in the wind. You must watch out, by all means, and I'll do the same. This man must not be allowed to do anything wrong, if we can possibly prevent it."
The weather remained fine for a full week, and with favoring winds theStormy Petrelbowled along merrily on her course. The ocean rolled lazily in the warm sunshine, a few birds circled about the ship, and once they passed a steamer coming from the Hawaiian Islands, and a schooner from Manila, and that was all.
"Shall we stop at Honolulu?" asked Roger, of the captain.
"No. I thought of doing so at first, but now I shall make no stops until we get to Christmas Island, and from there we will go direct to Cavasa and then to Sobago. What we do after that will depend largely on what is done about a cargo."
So far none of the boys had experienced any seasickness, and they congratulated themselves on their escape, but Billy Dill put a little damper on their ardor.
"This ain't no weather to judge by," was his comment. "Wait till we get some cross-winds and the ships starts to roll. Maybe then ye won't be so settled in the stomach."
The few days on the ocean had done the old tar a world of good. His eyes were brighter and he was physically in the best of health once more. His mind, too, was clearer, and one day he announced to Dave that he had something to tell.
"I ain't quite sure as I have the exact straight on 't," he began. "A little on 't is still like a dream. But I know enough to make a putty straight story," and then he told his tale.
A good portion of it was not unlike the story of many sailors. When very young, he had had a strong desire to go to sea, and at his first opportunity had shipped as a cabin boy. From cabin boy he had become a foremast hand, and had been in such service more years than he could count. He had visited nearly every portion of the globe, and had been wrecked twice, once off the coast of Africa and once while trying to round Cape Horn.
Three years before had found him at Sydney, Australia, looking for a chance to ship. While down among the wharves, he had discovered a tramp vessel, theMary Sacord, bound for Cavasa and other islands in the South Seas, and had signed articles for a year's cruise. The captain proved to be a brute, and there was fighting on the vessel from the time she left Sydney until Cavasa was reached. There, at the main seaport, Billy Dill went ashore and refused to go aboard again.
The captain of theMary Sacordwas very angryover the refusal of the seaman to continue on the trip, and threatened Dill with imprisonment, and even had the old tar arrested. But, at this juncture, two men came forward and aided the sailor in his trouble, and, as a consequence, Billy Dill was set free and the vessel went on her way without him.
One of the men who had helped Billy Dill was Dunston Porter and the other was Samuel Lemington. They were both Americans and fairly well-to-do. At first, they did not tell the old sailor much about their business, but they asked him if he wished to work for them, and he said he was willing, and they offered him thirty dollars a month and all his expenses.
The two Americans, so the tar discovered later, were after a treasure of precious stones, said upon good authority to have been hidden years before in the mountains by a former cannibal king of Cavasa and some other South Sea islands. The three journeyed into the interior of the island and spent months in looking for the treasure, but without success. Then came an earthquake and the volcano in the center of the island began to grow active, and all three had to flee to the coast in order to escape destruction.
It was on this treasure hunt that Billy Dill heard, through Dunston Porter, about the lost child that had been carried off by a nurse who was not mentally sound, although usually good-hearted. Dunston Porter had not said very much about the matter, for it seemed to hurt him a great deal—so much, in fact, that the old sailor did not think it best to ask for the particulars. But he knew one thing, that, try his best, Dunston Porter could not learn what had become of the woman and the little one, and he was half inclined to believe that both were dead.
"Well, did he say that the child was his son?" asked Dave, with deep interest.
"No, it was some relative of his, I think. I don't believe Dunston Porter was married."
"When you came back to the coast, what did this Mr. Porter do?"
"He and Mr. Lemington stayed in the town, trying to make up their minds as to what they'd do next. I got a chance to ship, and, as they didn't seem to want me any more, I sailed away, and then I did as I've told you before."
This was practically all the information Billy Dill could give concerning Dunston Porter and the missing child, although he told much more concerning the treasure hunt, and of several fights with the natives of the interior. He said the natives were a bad lot, and he wanted no more to do with them than was absolutely necessary.
"How old should you judge this Dunston Porter to be?" asked Dave.
"Forty to forty-five years old, my lad."
"Did he ever tell you where he came from?"
"Not exactly. But he was an American, and he knew a good bit about San Francisco, Chicago, and New York, and I remember he once told about hunting in the Maine woods and in the Adirondacks."
"He didn't say a word about coming back to the United States?"
"Not that I can remember."
With this information Dave had to be content. The story had been a strain on Billy Dill, and afterward he complained of a headache and of feeling dizzy. But a good night's rest restored him completely.
The sailor was at all times delighted to instruct the boys in the art of seamanship, and under his tutelage they learned rapidly, so that any of them could go aloft and make or take in sail whenever required. He also taught them how to make knots of various kinds, and many other things useful on board a ship. In the meantime Captain Marshall allowed them to read his works on navigation, and gave them a few lessons in steering, and in the use of the compass, sextant, and other nautical instruments.
"We'll be full-fledged sailors before this voyage is over," remarked Roger to his chums. "I declare, I almost feel as if I could handle a small ship already."
"Maybe you could, on the Leming River," rejoined Phil. "But when it came to a big storm on the Pacific, I rather believe you'd find it a different story."
So far, Phil had had but little to do with the supercargo, but now he asked the man if he could look over the books. Jasper Van Blott agreed, but the scowl on his face showed plainly that the move was not to his liking. Phil went over the accounts at his leisure, but could find nothing wrong in them. There were a few entries that looked odd, but the supercargo was ready with explanations concerning them.
"Well, have you found anything wrong?" questioned Dave, after Phil had spent three days over the books.
"Nothing much, Dave," was the answer from the shipowner's son.
"The supercargo isn't very friendly, I notice."
"Oh, he hates it, that I am going on this trip," answered Phil.
There seemed to be but one man on the ship with whom the supercargo was thoroughly friendly, and that was Paul Shepley, the first mate. The pair were together a large part of the time, and their conversation was frequently an animated one.
"I can't get it out of my head that those two are working together over something," said Dave. "Why, they are as thick as bees in a sugar barrel."
"I've noticed that, too," came from Roger. "Perhaps they are hatching up some mischief."
On the following day the weather became more unsettled, and occasionally the clouds showed themselves above the horizon. Captain Marshall gave orders to his mate that a strict watch should be kept for a blow.
"I guess we are in for it, now!" cried Dave, that afternoon. "It is much rougher than it has yet been."
"I know I am in for it," answered Roger. His face was white, and wore a troubled look.
"What's the matter, seasick?"
"I—I fancy so. My head spins like a top and my stomach is starting to do the same."
"Better go below, lad," said Captain Marshall, coming up. "It won't do you any good to remain on deck."
Roger shuffled off to the companionway, and Dave went after him. The senator's son was growing worse every minute, and it was not long before Phil announced that he also felt sick. Both went to their staterooms, and Dave did what he could to relieve their distress.
"If the old tub would only stop for a minute—just one minute!" groaned Roger.