The arm Ralph seized was violently jerked and twisted, but the mountain boy was strong for his age, and held on tight.
Turning at the same instant he found himself facing the same negro boy, who had probably saved him from arrest that morning by warning him regarding the bill posting.
"What did you want in my pocket?" demanded Ralph, feeling with his free hand to assure himself that his money was safe.
"Hush!" half whispered the darky. "I didn't see hit was yo'. Deed I didn't, suh."
Ralph regarded the negro steadily, as it dawned upon his crude conceptions that the other was a thief. Then he thought of the service the fellow had unwittingly done him, and at once released his grip.
"Go," said he contemptuously. "Don't let me see you round here any more."
The negro disappeared in the crowd, one of whom said to the mountain boy:
"Why didn't you hand him over to yonder policeman?"
"Well—because I sort of felt sorry for the fool," was the explanation Ralph would vouchsafe as he, too, turned away and extricated himself from the throng.
After that he wandered about the city, finding something to excite his wonder or admiration at every turn, until the lowness of the western sun admonished him that he had better begin to look out for supper and bed.
First he stepped into an area way, and placed his money in an inside pocket.
"Best to be on the safe side," thought he, as he returned to the street. "Looks like in these towns they'd steal a man's britches if they could pull 'em off without his knowing it. Hullo! That must be the captain's livery stable."
Directly across the street was a large wooden building, on the front of which, in enormous letters, were these words:
SHARD'S LIVERY STABLE.
SHARD'S LIVERY STABLE.
SHARD'S LIVERY STABLE.
While Ralph was debating whether he should again make himself known, the captain drove forth from the stable in a buggy. His quick eye lighted upon Ralph at once.
"Come here," he called, beckoning also with his finger. "I see you are still about," he added as Ralph crossed over.
"Yes, but I ain't posting bills any more."
"Then your job didn't last long?"
Ralph frankly related the cause and manner of his discharge by Mr. Quigg, whereat the captain laughed heartily.
"Well," said he, "I don't think you missed much, if that is the sort of a man he is. I'm city auditor, and I will see that Quigg, or whatever his name is, don't cheat the city. What are you going to do?"
Shard bent his eyes sharply on Ralph, and once more the boy felt uncomfortable. He replied, however, that he would find something before long.
"You stay with my foreman tonight," the captain said briskly. "Emmons!" to some one inside. "This lad will eat and sleep with you. I want you to take good care of him."
Emmons, without appearing, grunted a distant assent. Ralph ventured a protest.
"I can find a lodging, captain," he began.
"Hut tut! You're too green yet to be left alone all night in this town. Not a word. You stay with Emmons. In the morning I will let you know of a plan I am considering. It may be good for you."
Captain Shard gathered up his reins, nodded carelessly, and went off down the street in a small cloud of dust.
Ralph went into the stable, not seeing clearly how to refuse, though hardly at ease in his mind. As he stood in the doorway, looking along a double line of vehicles of all sorts backed against the wall, a hoarse voice bade him come into the office.
"Rather a small hole, but large enough for two," remarked Emmons from a high stool as Ralph entered a box of a place, about eight by ten, with a desk, a chair, stool, and a few lap robes in a corner as the furnishings thereof.
Emmons was a squat, thick set personage, with most of his face hidden behind a tremendous beard. He cast a careless glance at the boy, then shutting a ledger said:
"Let's go to supper."
He seized an old palmetto hat, and leaving the stables, dived down a side street, and into a cheap restaurant near by.
Ralph followed. They seated themselves at one of a row of pine tables, covered with oilcloth, and well sprinkled with crumbs and flies.
"Better take beef stew," remarked Emmons, seizing some bread and eating ravenously. "Get more if you're hungry."
Two beef stews were therefore ordered, and brought with a great clatter of table ware. Emmons fell to as if he had not broken his fast that day.
Ralph did not like the chicory coffee, though he did justice to the stew. The crowd of rapid eaters, the noisy rush and yells of the waiters, the steam fly fans, and the hard faced cashier, all excited his curiosity.
Two checks were thrown down. Emmons pounced upon both, though Ralph did not understand what they meant, until he saw the stable man lay them, accompanied by two dimes, upon the desk at the door.
"Why did you not let me pay mine?" he asked.
"All right. Boss's orders."
The evening passed quietly, the foreman talking but little, though he entertained Ralph for a time by playing on a French harp, or mouth organ.
When bedtime came he ushered the boy into a sort of cubby hole behind the office that was barely large enough to afford space for undressing beside the bed. In five minutes Emmons was snoring lustily, though Ralph lay long awake, thinking over the various phases of his situation and prospects.
He was routed out early in the morning to help the foreman feed the horses and mules in the stables underneath, and kept busy for an hour, after which they took breakfast at the restaurant where they had procured their supper.
About nine o'clock Captain Shard arrived in his buggy from his home in the suburbs.
"Come in here, Ralph," said he, as Emmons took the horse. "I want to have a talk with you."
He led the way into the office, closed the door, and fixed his eyes intently on Ralph, who followed. Then he frowned, appeared to ponder for a moment, and finally cleared his brow as he looked up again.
"How would you like to follow the sea for a living?" he at length demanded.
"Follow the sea?" repeated Ralph as if he hardly comprehended. "Do you mean how would I like to be a sailor?"
"Something of the kind. You would begin as cabin boy, probably. If you are smart and willing you would soon climb up higher. By the time you are eighteen, you should be an A 1 seaman, earning at least twenty dollars a month and your keep."
Among the few books the boy had somehow got hold of in the mountains, one of the most treasured was a copy of Marryat's "Midshipman Easy." He felt a thrill now, as he pictured himself in a position to emulate, in a measure, some of the adventures therein so graphically depicted. The distant ocean held up to his anticipation the stirring pleasures of a life on the wave, while veiling from his boyish ignorance its overmastering hardships.
The captain saw his face light up, and proceeded to explain further.
"I have a cousin who runs a schooner in the West Indies trade. He is now at the Marshall House, Savannah. His vessel is somewhere near there. Now I can get you a good berth with him, I know. I have done him a few favors, and he is not ungrateful.
"Emmons, here, is going to start today with a gang of mules for Augusta. You can help him on that far, and in payment he will buy you a ticket to Savannah. I will give you a letter to my cousin, and also write him by mail that you are on the way. Now, what do you think of that?"
"Sounds mighty nice—almost too nice," thought Ralph, who was shrewd enough to wonder why Shard—whom he had been warned against—should put himself out to serve a Granger.
"Perhaps he is sick of the feud, like me. I'm sure I would do him a favor, if he is half a Vaughn. By granny! I believe I will take him up. Aunt Dopples don't know everything."
"Think over it well," added the captain, noticing the boy's reflective manner. "A sailor's life is by no means easy, yet a bright, active lad can rise. Many a captain began before the mast."
Shard was smiling seductively, though his gaze seemed hard and penetrating. He hung over the lad not unlike some bird of prey, waiting for a favorable chance to pounce.
"All right," said Ralph at last. "I will go and feel thankful for the chance, if you will answer me one question. Why should you be so—so willing to do a favor to me. In the mountains folks would think you were crazy."
"Ha! That miserable old feud again. My boy, I have outgrown it; have been too much in the world. I see in you a bright lad, who only needs to be started in order to make his own way. Why should I not start you as well as any one else, especially when it costs me nothing but the stroke of a pen? Besides your going to Augusta saves me the expense of hiring an extra hand."
All this seemed so reasonable that Ralph's weakening scruples entirely vanished. He assented without further parley to Captain Shard's offer, and was straightway placed under the supervision of the foreman, who was in a rear stable yard haltering a small drove of mules together in squads.
Ralph lent active assistance, and in half an hour they were ready to start. One mule in each bunch was saddled. Extra clothing was rolled in blankets, and strapped behind the saddles.
Emmons disappeared in the direction of the office. When he returned the captain came with him, bearing in his hand a letter.
"Here is your introduction to Captain Gary, the gentleman whom you will find at the Marshall House in Savannah. Suppose you read it to see that all is square and above board."
"Oh, it's all right, I reckon," replied Ralph carelessly.
"Yes, it is all right, but I would rather you looked for yourself before leaving. Should anything go wrong—which I do not anticipate at all—I wish to feel exonerated in your mind, my boy."
The captain's teeth gleamed almost fiercely as he smiled in a friendly manner, though his eyes never relented in their hard, unfeeling stare.
Ralph drew forth the note from the envelope and read:—
MY DEAR COUSIN:
This will make you acquainted with a youth in whose welfare I already feel a deep interest. He has made up his mind to learn to be a sailor, and I shall take it very kindly if you will take charge of him, and see what he can do. Give him as easy a berth as you can, and let me know from time to time what progress he is making. His name is Ralph Granger, and he is as plucky as he looks.
Your cousin and friend,THEODORE SHARD.
To CAPTAIN MARK GARY,Marshall House, Savannah.
This seemed flattering enough. As Ralph expressed his thanks, he repressed a fleeting idea that the tone of the letter was most too much that way.
Shard shook him by the hand, and was about to retire when he appeared to recollect something.
"Need any money, for clothes, and so on?"
"I have enough to do me," said Ralph. "You have done enough already, and I——"
"Never mind that. Emmons will settle board bills, and get your ticket in Augusta. Good by. Let me hear a good account of you when Gary writes."
With a final nod and smile that was almost fatherly, the captain disappeared.
Emmons had already mounted. Ralph quickly did likewise, and the two, with their four footed charges, rode out of the yard through a gate that was closed behind them by a negro hostler.
At first the five mules Ralph was leading, besides the one he rode, did not travel well together. His arm was wrenched almost unbearably in the effort to keep them up to the pace Emmons was setting.
The latter, looking back, called out:
"Make your halter fast to your saddle bow. Then lay the whip on."
The boy did so, and they were presently clattering down the street at a pace that made a stray policeman wave his club warningly. Soon they were in the suburbs, and thence the open country came into view, where truck farms and fruit orchards gave way to green fields of cotton and corn.
The negroes seemed to be everywhere. At a bridge a couple of black fishermen bobbed up from behind an abutment, scaring the rear squad of mules.
The five lead ones pressed heavily upon the one Ralph was riding.
"Look out!" cried one of the darkies. "Yo'se gwine over de bank! Watch out, I say!"
The warning was too late to be effectual. It might not have done any good, anyhow, as under the pressure of five frightened mules, the one Ralph bestrode was pushed to the very verge of the high embankment leading up to the bridge.
The boy saw the inevitable catastrophe that was coming. He released his feet from the stirrups, unwound the halter from the saddle bow and threw himself on the back of the next mule just as the one he had been riding toppled over the embankment, down which it rolled clumsily to the bottom.
Ralph spurred the other on vigorously towards the bridge, while the two negroes, who were responsible for the disaster, seized the rope that held the animals and between the three further mischief was averted.
But it was a very close shave. Had the whole bunch gone, Ralph's life might have been sacrificed, to say nothing of damage to the mules.
Emmons now came cantering back with his charges just as the fallen mule regained its feet with the saddle between its legs.
"What d'ye mean?" he scolded. "Hain't you learned to ride yet?"
Ralph, rather provoked and much out of breath, was silent, but the darkies gave loud and voluble explanations, tending mostly to exculpate themselves. Then they brought up the fallen mule, fixed the saddle and looked as if they would not have objected to a small reward.
"Hurry, Ralph!" exclaimed Emmons, tossing them a dime. "We got no time to lose. Glad there's no bones broken, but you must look sharp."
Ralph remounted and they were soon on the way again. For the next two or three days they passed through a mostly level country, where great cotton plantations, with stretches of swamp between, alternated with broad pine barrens.
In these last the wind sighed mournfully, and the soil looked so poor that the mountain boy felt that there was a section worse off than his own steep and gravelly native land.
They arrived in Augusta by way of a ferry across the dirty, narrow river that flows near the city. The mules were duly delivered to the proper parties and the two at last felt at leisure to do as they pleased.
Emmons took Ralph to a soda fountain.
"What will you have?" he asked.
"I don't know; whatever you like," said the boy, once more at sea as to what he might expect.
When the effervescent liquid foamed and fizzed, Ralph stared in amazement.
"Must I drink it?" he faltered, noticing the ease with which Emmons swallowed his.
"Of course, you must. Did you think it was to wash with?"
Ralph afterward averred that it tasted better than it sounded, but again pondered over the—to him—increasing mysteries of civilization. They had a late dinner, then made their way to the railroad depot, where Emmons bought and gave to Ralph his ticket for Savannah by the train which was to leave in an hour.
"I'll be goin' back to see about the money for them mules," said Emmons at length. "Well, good by. Swing tight to your cash, and write to us when ye get to Savanny."
As the foreman took his big beard out of sight somebody out where the cars were shouted:
"All aboard! All aboard!"
Ralph saw people rushing out and jumping on the train that was on the point of starting. He suddenly was seized by an idea that he was about to be left. So he ran out with the crowd and was about to climb into a drawing room coach, when a trim colored man dressed in blue, who was standing at the steps, stopped him.
"Let's see your ticket please."
Ralph drew it forth and was about to hurry on in, when the porter handed it back.
"Dis ain't your train, boy," said he with a somewhat contemptuous accent. "Dis yere's a parlor coach fo' Atlanty."
"Wh—where is my train then?" asked Ralph, not knowing what to do next.
"Ain't made up yet," called the porter as the cars moved away, leaving the lad looking about him rather foolishly.
"Made a jack of myself again," said he, as he remembered that the agent had told Emmons when they bought their tickets, that the Savannah train would not leave for an hour.
He returned to the waiting room and sat there very quietly until the time was nearly up, then went out and found the proper car without further difficulty.
That long night's ride was interesting though tiresome. Ralph tried to count the telegraph poles without understanding much about their uses.
The low, level country, the tall trunks of the pines, the ever present negroes, the sparks from the engine, and the occasional interruptions from the conductor, kept him from sleep until long after midnight.
Finally, however, he coiled himself up on the seat and knew nothing more until some one shook him by the shoulder.
"Is yo' gwine ter stay in yere all day?" asked a voice.
Ralph sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was shining and the car empty, with the exception of himself and a negro brakeman, who had awakened him from an unusually sound slumber.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"We'se in Savanny. Been yere nigh 'bout an hour. I seed yo' was tired, an' I 'lowed I'd let yer sleep. But I'se got ter sweep out now."
When Ralph emerged from the depot he found himself on a sandy unpaved street, with many half shabby frame houses about and a number of tall pines in the distance.
He followed a line of trucks and drays towards the business part of the city, and presently dropped into a cheap eating house for breakfast.
After that he began to inquire for the Marshall House, which he found to be a large, red brick hostelry, with a broad second story veranda in front. The sidewalk beneath was sprinkled with chairs partially occupied by men reading their morning papers or smoking.
A few glanced curiously at the roughly dressed boy, who made his way into a large hall and office combined, where trunks and grips were stacked up by the score, and trim porters and waiters were gliding to and fro.
He instantly felt himself out of place amid those well dressed people, and smart servants. It was his first experience with a first class city hotel.
So low did his courage ebb at first that he very nearly made up his mind to retreat without attempting to see Captain Gary. In his unwashed, uncombed condition, the contrast between himself and those around was embarrassing enough even to his crude conception.
He stood gazing about in a half helpless manner, not knowing to whom to apply for information.
"Where can I find Captain Gary?" he asked at length of a porter who happened to be lounging near.
The negro inspected Ralph from head to foot, then demanded: "Do he stop yere?"
"Yes. I have a letter for him."
"Oh! Dat all is it?" The porter had found it hard to reconcile Ralph's appearance with any other connection with a guest of the hotel than a menial one. "Yo' go right up to de office over dar and gin it to the clerk. He see Cap'n Gary gits um."
"But—but I have to see the captain myself," urged Ralph.
"What yo' reckon a gen'lemun like he wanter sech a boy as you? Huh?"
Ralph felt that his clothes were against him, but he did not propose to be bullied by a servant and a negro at that.
"Look here," said he. "I want to see Captain Gary and I'm going to see him, too. I've got business with him—d'ye understand?"
"Well den," replied the porter insolently, "s'posen yo' find where he is yo'self."
Ralph, without another word, marched straight to the clerk's desk.
Ralph's previous diffidence disappeared under the flush of anger aroused by the porter's words.
"Mister," said he addressing the stylish looking clerk, who at first barely glanced at the lad, "I was sent here from Columbia to see a man who stops here called Captain Gary. That nigger over there, when I asked him where the man was, told me to hunt him up myself. I never was in your tavern before. How can I find him, I'd like to know?"
Before Ralph had concluded, the clerk was inspecting his person curiously. Ralph again thought of his clothes.
"I don't look very stylish," said he, "and I know it; but I've got business with Captain Gary all the same."
"Front!" called the clerk, without addressing Ralph.
A smart mulatto boy, uniformed in blue and red, sprang from a bench where several others similarly clad were seated.
"Show this—this person to forty nine," directed the clerk, then turned to another inquirer as if he had already forgotten Ralph's existence.
"There's one thing certain," thought the lad, as he followed the call boy down a long hall, up one flight of stairs and into a richly carpeted corridor, "we mountain folks can beat these city dudes on manners, if we can't in anything else."
The boy knocked at a door and a voice almost feminine in musical softness bade them "Come in."
"Some one to see yo', suh," said the messenger, pushing Ralph inside and closing the door.
The mountain youth found himself alone with a slender, exceedingly handsome man, so slight of figure and fair in complexion as to fully bear out in his appearance the womanly resemblance suggested by his voice.
He was dressed in a walking suit of a subdued gray tint, with patent leather gaiters, and his hands were white, while his fingers sparkled with one or two jeweled rings. His linen was spotless and in his lemon colored neck tie shone a large diamond.
He was reclining in an easy chair, smoking a cigarette, and as he languidly surveyed Ralph, the boy felt that here was a sea captain different from those he had read of or imagined.
"Well, my lad, what is it you want of me?" inquired the man.
"My name is Ralph Granger. I have a letter for you from Captain Shard. He said you would understand."
Gary took the missive which Ralph now produced, opened it, and glanced through it carelessly, then extended his hand.
"Glad to see you," said he softly. "So you want to try the sea, eh? Well, any one coming from my cousin Shard is always sure of a welcome from me."
Here he smiled very sweetly and waved his beringed fingers. "Stand more in the light, please. I want to take a good look at you, Ralph."
As he inspected the boy from under his half closed lashes, his eyes shone curiously.
"Now, Ralph," continued he with lazy cordiality, as if he had known the youth for weeks instead of minutes, "what do you know about a sailor's life?"
"I don't know anything, except—except,"—Ralph hesitated.
"Well?" suggested the captain inquiringly, and with an enchanting smile.
"I've read a book or two about sea life and ships, and all that. Outside of that I ain't posted."
"I see. Did you bring any kit along?"
"What's that, sir?"
"Outfit, clothes, baggage, you know."
"I've got a bundle of clothes down at the car shed."
"Ah—yes." The captain reflected a moment.
"My boatswain is to be here at eleven sharp. I guess you had better go aboard with him."
"Go where, sir?"
"Down to the ship. We call it going aboard, you see," and once more Captain Gary smiled with almost infantile amiability. "Been to breakfast? Yes? Well, then, suppose you take a stroll about and see the town. Don't get lost, and be sure and be back by eleven. My room is forty nine; can you recollect that?"
Ralph thought he could, and was about to withdraw when the captain pulled out a silver dollar.
"You may need a little spending money," said he. "Only I hope you won't buy tobacco. Lads of your age, you know, are best without it, and as for cards——"
Ralph hastened to assure him that he not only did not smoke or gamble, but that he had some money of his own.
"Take this, however. We will call it a slight advance on your wages."
The captain insisted so genially that Ralph could not refuse.
"Looks like I've dropped into a soft snap at last," thought he, as he found his way to the street. "I wonder if many ship captains are like him? Them as I have read of were mostly great, big, strapping, swearing sort of fellows, ready to knock a body down when things don't go to suit 'em. Well, I'm glad I've got such an easy going boss to learn a sailor's trade under. I wonder where we will sail to first? I hope it will be a good long voyage where I can see and learn a heap."
After Ralph's departure Captain Gary sank back into his chair and smoked his cigarette out. Then he produced another letter, addressed in the same hand as the one given him by Ralph, and spread them out together on his knees.
"So," said he, half aloud, while certain hard lines appeared on his face that changed its entire expression to one of callous severity, "my good cousin wants me to put this lad through. What is there about the boy that he dislikes? Well, Theodore has done me more than one good turn. What is a lad more or less?"
He stared at the wall before him, disclosing in his now widely open eyes a brightness as of steel, for the feminine softness had vanished utterly. "Tom Bludson will make him wish he had never been born as quickly as even Shard could desire. To make sure, we might leave him behind when we reach the Gold Coast. However, all this can be decided later."
The captain lighted another cigarette, rang for a mint julep, then addressed himself to some writing, the materials for which were scattered about on a table by the window. He wrote several letters, made out some orders and accounts, smoking the while and sipping his julep through a long rye straw from time to time.
At last, promptly on the stroke of eleven, appeared a tall, brawny, mahogany faced seaman, clad in blue flannels of a nautical cut. This personage pulled off a round, flat, visorless cap, and made a half military salute upon entering in obedience to the captain's summons.
"That you, Ralph?" said the latter softly but without looking up. "That's right. Always be prompt, and you will be—a—hello!" raising his eyes. "What the dev—oh! It's you, is it, Tom?"
"Me it are, sir," replied the tall sailor, again ducking his head. "I was to report at 'leven—shore time."
"I thought it was that cursed boy," returned the captain in a sharp, quick tone, totally unlike the soothing drawl he had used in addressing Ralph. "Where can he be, I wonder?"
The boatswain, comprehending that the captain was making inquiry rather of himself than his auditor, remained discreetly silent, merely availing himself of a chance to throw a tremendous quid of "navy" into the fireplace.
"I want you to take him on board, Tom," added Gary, turning round. "You must see him stowed before I go down."
"Where will I find him, sir?"
"The deuce only knows. I told him to take a run round, but to show up at eleven. He is a thorough backwoods rooster and he may have got lost. Suppose you take a turn round the square and look him up. Don't be gone long. I have stores yet to go down by tug."
"Aye, aye, sir," quoth Bludson, and promptly vanished.
The captain had hardly buried himself in his accounts again, before the boatswain reappeared, holding Ralph by the collar. The lad had resisted at first, but found himself helpless in the grasp of the gigantic seaman and now ceased his struggles, though his face was red with vexation.
"Be this the chap?" asked Tom.
"Yes; you may turn him loose, however."
The captain's teeth shone very white, so broad was the smile with which he strove to conceal the scowl that had at first mantled his brow at sight of Ralph.
"My boy," continued he, "you will not feel hurt when I tell you that punctuality is one of the first requisites of success in the calling you have chosen."
"I lost my way for a little while," began Ralph, but the captain signified that the tardiness was pardoned already.
"You see we sail tonight on the flood," he added, "and we have yet much to do. This is our boatswain or bos'n—as we call them—Mr. Bludson. He will accompany you to the ship. Perhaps you will not mind assisting him a little in seeing to some stores that are yet to go down. Tom, you must be careful of young Granger. We already take a great interest in his welfare."
Tom looked puzzled at first, but when the captain smiled once more he seemed relieved. Evidently he understood that smile.
Ralph thought he did too, and he again felt that he was lucky in having so kind hearted a captain.
After that Gary and Bludson conferred together over matters concerning the ship, while Ralph twirled his cap and placed his bundle beside him on the carpet. Some fifteen minutes might have thus passed, then the boatswain straightened up, thrust some papers the captain had given him into his hip pocket, and turned to the door.
"Now, youngster," said he, "we'll get sail."
"Stay with Bludson, Ralph," called the captain, waving his hand gracefully; "he will see you through in fine shape."
"Aye, aye. I warrant I see him through," echoed the boatswain hoarsely as the two went out.
In Ralph's opinion the captain was much more agreeable and "well mannered" than his subordinate. In the hall below they encountered a heavy set, bushy bearded man in navy blue, at sight of whom Bludson touched his cap. The man looked so sharply at Ralph that the boy inquired:
"Who is that, Mr. Bludson?"
"That's our first mate, and a rare un he is, too."
"A rare one. What do you mean by that?"
"Oh! You'll find out soon enough. Best not ask too many questions. Howsever, I'll give ye one bit of advice, as is worth a heap to landsmen aboard ship, and it shan't cost 'e a cent. That is keep your eyes peeled and your tongue betwixt your teeth. That's the way to larn and keep a whole skin."
All this was rather enigmatical, but Ralph understood that he was not to ask any questions.
After that Mr. Bludson maintained a dignified silence as he plunged, with Ralph at his side, into the regions of the wholesale trade. They called at several grocery and provision stores, and also at a ship chandler's. The boatswain had sundry talks with sundry clerks and some drays were loaded.
Finally the two emerged upon the river front where lay, among other craft, a steam tug with a gang plank ashore. Tom pulled off his coat and gave it to Ralph, saying:
"Climb aboard with this, then come back and bear a hand."
The lad ran down the plank and deposited the boatswain's jacket and his bundle in the helmsman's closet, then made his way back and took hold of the incoming freight with a will.
In half an hour the stores were on board, and the tug, casting loose, began to steam swiftly down the river.
It being Ralph's first experience afloat, the swift, gliding motion and the noisy engine interested him greatly. The novelty was, in its way, as exciting as his first car ride.
"What is it makes things go?" he asked of Bludson, who was sprawled upon a coil of cable, smoking a short black pipe.
"The ingine and the propeller, ye lubber," replied the latter. "Did 'e think it was wings?"
"But what is a propeller?"
"Ah! The ign'erance of land folks! It do beat all. The propeller—why the propeller is a propeller, of course. What else did 'e think it were."
"I know, but——"
"Now look here, youngster. Watching is one thing and always wanting to know is another. Stow your gaff, as I said afore, and use your peepers."
After this rebuff Ralph asked no more questions of his superior, but he faithfully obeyed the injunction as to "keeping a bright lookout."
They steamed along between low marshy banks for an hour or two, then the river began to widen into an irregularly shaped bay. Sundry low lying islands, covered with strange semi-tropic vegetation, rose up seaward, and by and by a sound as of muffled thunder could be heard.
As they passed old Fort Pulaski, Ralph ventured to question the pilot on the roof. This grizzled boatman was gruff, but obliging.
"It's the roar of the breakers, you hear," said he. "That is an old fort. Good for a siege once—no good now. And yonder—do you see that low lying, black schooner under the lee of Tybee light?"
"Where?" inquired Ralph, leaning out of the little pilot house window.
The pilot pointed, but it was quite a minute before the boy could distinguish the vessel. When he did, all his unaccustomed eye could make out, was a narrow dark line surmounted by a dim tracery of spars that were barely relieved by the white beach behind.
Still further beyond rose the towering white lighthouse.
"I believe I do see it," he said at length.
"Well, that's the Curlew. She's a daisy on the wind, or for that matter sailing free either. There ain't a sweeter looking fore-an-after on this coast."
"Is that Captain Gary's ship?" asked Ralph, for he had not heard the name of the vessel mentioned before.
"Well, you are an ignoramus. Don't know the name of the craft you're shipping on."
The old pilot looked disgusted. "Where'd you get your trainin'?"
When Ralph explained that this was his first sight of salt water, and that he had seen the captain for the first time that morning, the pilot shook his grizzled head doubtfully.
"Captain Gary is a deep one, that's what he is. He was mighty milk and watery, wasn't he? I thought so. Know where you're bound for?"
Ralph had not the least idea, but felt no uneasiness, as the captain was so kind; had treated him almost like a son.
"Did eh! Well, now see here. It's none of my business, but I believe in a fair shake." The pilot glanced round and noticing the boatswain sauntering toward them, he bent forward and concluded in an undertone: "When you get aboard and out to sea, you keep your eyes open and watch out for squalls. D'ye hear. Watch out for squalls."
The boy heard but did not understand. The pilot's manner, however, impressed him as unusual. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as the old man, after a knowing wink or two, fixed his eyes upon the course he was steering, and thereafter ignored Ralph's presence entirely.
Bludson cast a searching glance at them both, then ordered Ralph to go below and bring up his coat. The lad obeyed and when he returned, the tug had forged past an island headland, disclosing to them a fine view of the open ocean.
Ralph uttered an exclamation of wonder, and for five minutes or more he leaned against the guard rail, feasting his eyes on the heaving expanse of blue, foam dotted water near the inlet, where the rollers were breaking upon the bar.
"It's the greatest sight I ever saw," he said turning to Bludson, who merely grunted. "How blue it looks! I suppose those changing lines of white are the breakers. Well, well! This beats the mountains. I wish I was out there right now."
"You'd be wishing yourself ashore soon," returned Tom apathetically. "Wait till 'e gets seasick."
"What is that? Does the sea make you sick?"
"I should say it do. But there's a mighty fine cure for all that. Aye, 'tis a bracin', healthful cure."
"Tell me, Mr. Bludson. You know I might get seasick, too."
"Ye be bound to. Then cap'n 'e'll say lay forrid there and trice up that fo'topmast stays'l brace; and there you is first 'e know fifty feet above the fo' s'l boom, a takin' a good look of an hour or so at old Neptune. Well, if that don't fetch 'e all right, cap'n 'e'll say 'Reeve a slip knot under his arms' which, no sooner done than overboard you goes for a dip or two. That always brings 'em round."
"Looks like a queer way to cure a sick man," commented Ralph, who but half comprehended the boatswain's lingo.
"It beats the doctor though all the same," said Tom with rather a heartless grin. "But look round. What do 'e think of the Curlew now? Ain't she a beauty?"
The tug had got near enough to enable the proportions of the vessel to be seen quite distinctly.
Even to Ralph she was a graceful and pleasing sight. The long, low, black hull exhibited curves as perfect as the flowing sweep of a rainbow. The tall mast, the tapering tracery of spars, the snowy canvas and the general trim and orderly air maintained, were all attractive to the eye.
In a brief time, the tug was lying alongside and the stores transferred to the schooner's hold in short order. A dozen or more catlike sailors assisted the crew of the tug, and Ralph made himself useful.
When the tug sheered off, the boy leaning over the side of the schooner, beheld the pilot shake his head in a doubtful way as he answered Ralph's farewell wave of the hand.
"So I must look out for squalls, must I?" he reflected. "I wonder what the man meant. Never mind. I am young, stout, and I'm not afraid. So I guess I won't worry. So nice a man as Captain Gary won't see a boy put upon, I know."
A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.
"Come now! We don't want no idlin' or staring over the side on this craft. Come along and stow your kit and sling your hammock. Then we'll eat a bite—you and me."
Thus roused, he followed Tom Bludson into the forecastle, where a low but roomy apartment was lighted both by a swinging lamp and the daylight streaming through the narrow companionway. There was a double row of bunks on either hand and overhead were hooks to swing hammocks in the space between.
Bludson unslung a hammock from the wall and tossed it to Ralph. There was a blanket inside.
"Wrap your clothes in that blanket and give the hammock a turn or two—so." The boatswain accompanied his words by showing Ralph how a hammock is folded and slung to the hooks overhead when not in use.
"Now," he added, "it's stowed for the day. When bedtime comes you must unsling and hang it as the rest do. You see there's not enough bunks for the crew, so some has to use hammocks."
After that Tom led the way to the cook's galley, a mere closet of a place just abaft the foremast. In entering one went down two or three steps. Here they found Neb (short for Nebraska), the cook, a short, fat jolly looking negro, who with his stove and cooking utensils so completely filled up the place that Ralph was puzzled to see how the man ever managed to cook at all. Every bit of space was utilized, however. There were drawers and lockers under shelves and tables, while overhead were swinging racks for dishes and provisions.
"Hi, Marse Tom, who be dat yo' got dar? One er dese yere shore kids?"
"Yes, he's a shore kid, Neb. Him and me haven't had any dinner. Can't you shake us up a bit of something. Salt horse and skilly will do, if nothin' else is handy."
Neb was acquiescent and the boatswain and his charge were soon discussing a hearty meal with molasses, vinegar and water for a beverage instead of coffee.
After that Bludson took Ralph aft and introduced him to the second mate, Mr. Duff, a slim, active, pleasant looking young man of four and twenty, who was superintending the coiling of a spare cable in a cuddy hole beneath the wheel.
"New boy, eh," said he, giving Ralph a brief but keen inspection. "I thought the captain swore that he wanted no more boys, after Bunty gave him the slip."
Bunty, Ralph afterward learned, had run away at a foreign port with a small sum of money not his own.
"Cap'n's changed his mind then, sir," returned Tom, "He said as 'e wanted p'tickler care taken of this kid, and he was to wait in the cabin till 'e gets his sea legs on so to speak."
"What' your name?" To Ralph, then turning to the men: "Easy there. Lay her even, can't you."
Ralph replied and Bludson added:
"Blest if the kid's ever seen the ocean before. He don't know a brace from a marlin spike."
"I can learn, I reckon," said Ralph so heartily that Mr. Duff took a second look at the boy, then smiled to himself.
"Run down to the cabin and fetch me up the doctor," said the mate. "Yon's the way."
He pointed towards the companionway.
Ralph, somewhat puzzled, started down, but fancied he heard a sound of smothered laughter as he passed from sight.
"They're making fun of me," thought he. "I don't believe there is any doctor here."
The two men having finished with the cable went forward, just as Ralph reappeared bearing a box of patent pills he had found below.
"That's the nearest thing to a doctor I could find," said he.
The mate roared with laughter, while Long Tom grinned broadly, and the sailors snickered.
"I guess you'll do, my lad," exclaimed Mr. Duff in high good humor. "Come with me and I will show you what the doctor is. Bludson, have that peak block on the foresail gaff slung a little higher. I think she will hoist easier."
"Aye, aye, sir," returned the boatswain, while Ralph, following the mate, again descended to the cabin.
The cabin was roomy, well carpeted, and contained a stationary table through the center of which ran the mainmast of the schooner. At the stern were two staterooms; one for the captain and the other for the two mates. Lockers and drawers were scattered about, and a mirror with a picture or two was attached to the walls.
On a cushioned seat at one side lay a large white cat.
"That's Doctor," said the mate. "He's a great pet, and while you are aft you must see that he wants for nothing."
The mate showed Ralph a small closet where were sundry brooms, brushes and other implements for cleaning up.
"As you are to be cabin boy, for a while at least," said Mr. Duff, "you might as well begin by tidying up the cabin a bit. We want to have things shipshape by the time the captain comes aboard."
For an hour or so Ralph busied himself accordingly, until a commotion on deck led him to look out at one of the stateroom windows.