These windows were mere bullseye affairs, swinging on pivots.
Pushing one open, Ralph saw a four oared boat pulling rapidly for the schooner. Presently he heard the rattle of oars under the vessel's side, and an order or two issued by the second mate.
He hastened up the companionway just in time to see Mr. Duff saluting Captain Gary and Mr. Rucker as they came over the side, passing between several seamen drawn up on either side of the gangway. The first mate cast an eye aloft and to seaward, while the captain walked so quickly down the companionway that he nearly overturned Ralph.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Gary, flinging the lad roughly aside. "Have you no manners?"
He disappeared in the cabin whither Ralph followed dumbfounded at this unlooked for exhibition of temper on the part of his hitherto placid superior.
The captain was flinging down some papers on the table. Looking up he recognized Ralph for the first time.
"That you, Ralph?" he said, banishing a scowl in a smile that had no mirth in it. "Was it you outside?"
"Yes, sir."
"I did not know it was you. But we learn to look sharp and be spry on shipboard. Did Bludson treat you well? Ah—that's good. Had a pleasant time? I always want my men to enjoy themselves. I see you have tidied up things here. You must keep this cabin clean, and also these staterooms. You will also wait on the cabin table and take your meals here."
The captain started for his own room, but looking back, said:
"Go forward, Neb will show you about making ready for supper."
From then on until flood tide, several hours later, both men and officers were busy in stowing away and making things generally snug.
After his duties at the table were over, Ralph had little to do but to watch what was going on around, which he did eagerly, striving to master, as well as he could, the mystery and duties of the strange life upon which he was entering.
As the hour grew late, only the watch on deck, together with the officer in charge, remained above; that is except Ralph, who found everything interesting. The first mate was in his berth, and the captain writing in the cabin. Mr. Duff was walking to and fro near the wheel, while in the forecastle the major part of the crew were in their bunks.
It might have been near midnight. Ralph, having seated himself on the step between the quarter and the main decks, had at last fallen into a doze, with his head against the bulwarks.
Captain Gary came up, cast a look about and then consulted his watch.
"We might as well make sail, Mr. Duff," said he in a low tone. "Call all hands."
Then he returned to the cabin. A moment later Bludson's shrill whistle aroused Ralph with a start.
The deck became alive with moving figures in answer to the boatswain's hoarse summons.
"Hoist away with a will, men. Yo—heave—ho! Up she goes."
To such and similar cries, Ralph saw the great main sail unfold its vast expanse in obedience to the measured hauling of a line of men, who uttered a monotonous half shout as they bent to the work. Another gang soon had the foresail going upward, after which the capstan was manned.
To Ralph these proceedings were thrillingly attractive. It was his first bewildering taste of the duties of a sailor's life.
As the men pushed with a will at the capstan bars, and the ship drew toward her anchor, some one struck up a song that ran somewhat as follows:
"A bucklin' wind and a swashin' tide,Yo ho, ho, boys, yo ho, ho!If I had Nancy by my side,With a yo ho, ho, ho, boys, yo ho, ho!"
While there did not seem to be much sense attached to the words, the manner in which they were roared forth, and the push altogether with which they drove the bars at the end of each line, made a vivid impression on the mountain lad's imagination.
He felt glad that he had elected to be a sailor, even though he began as an humble cabin boy. There was an element of dash and danger connected with the life that appealed to the natural daring of his disposition.
"I shall certainly see enough of the world," thought he, "and I shall leave that miserable feud far, far behind."
With the anchor a-trip, the men waited for the final signal. As a light westerly puff swelled the mainsail, which was drawn flat, Mr. Duff uttered a low "Now then," that was repeated loudly by the boatswain, who acted also as a sort of sailing master.
"Yo ho, ho! Heave 'er up, hearties!"
The capstan was again manned, and as the schooner fell off before the wind, Ralph, leaning over the forward bulwarks, saw the great anchor hang dripping under the bow. Later on it would be stowed on deck.
And now the three jibs were hoisted one after another, then the topsails, and finally, as the breeze was light, a triangular staysail was run well up to the weather side between the masts.
Under the influence of the wind and tide the Curlew spun along at an eight knot gait, trailing a glistening wake behind and with a briny hissing along the side as the smooth hull cut the rippling water.
Presently the north point of the inlet was abreast, and Ralph began to notice a slow rocking motion which, as the vessel rose upon the swells, made him feel as if the deck were sinking beneath his feet. At first it was a pleasant sensation, and he leaned over the side, enjoying the starlit view, the moist, balmy air and the gentle motion.
Tybee was now well astern. On either hand the shore line was receding while in front came a low, irregular roaring.
Ralph walked back to where Mr. Duff was standing at the binnacle, conning the ship. There was no pilot aboard, as for some reason, Captain Gary did not wish the time of his departure publicly known.
"What is that noise we hear ahead Mr. Duff?" asked the lad, whereat the sailor at the wheel snickered, while the mate allowed himself to smile.
"That's the surf on the bar," said he. "What did you suppose it might be?"
"I 'lowed it might be thunder, only I didn't see any clouds."
At this Mr. Duff laughed outright, and the sailors nudged each other as if highly tickled. Ralph looked from one to another, and his pulse beat fast.
"If I had you folks up in our mountains," said he, "mebbe I could show you a thing or two that would puzzle you. I know I'm green, but I'm not too green to learn."
"You'll do," replied the mate shortly, as the boy turned away.
A little later as he was standing by the after hatch, a hand was laid on his arm.
"Ralph," said the second mate, for it was he, "let me give you a bit of advice. No matter what is said or done to you, take it and go along. Hard words mend no bones. I'm giving you straight goods, my lad. You seem to have the right kind of stuff in you, and all you need is to be kept in line."
"Mr. Bludson said something of the sort, I think. All right, sir. I'll keep my mind on that, and I'm obliged to you."
But after the mate had returned to the binnacle Ralph was conscious of a fall in his spirits. Ocean life might be glorious after a while, but at present he was apparently under everybody; he knew less than anybody, and—suddenly he threw his hand to his head.
The roar of the breakers was close at hand now, and as the Curlew began to roll and pitch in quite a pronounced manner, the boy would have been alarmed but for the overmastering wretchedness of his feelings. His whole internal system seemed to be turning upside down.
"It must be!" he groaned, staggering to the side. "I—I'm—sea—sick. Oh—oh—oh—Lordy!"
For an hour or more passing events were as naught to Ralph. Too ill to sling his hammock, he finally crawled under one of the small boats on the main deck, and at last fell asleep.
The next thing he was conscious of was a terrible chill, a sensation of drowning, and gasping for breath. As he woke he heard a gruff voice say:
"If that don't fetch him nothin' won't."
As Ralph opened his eyes, several seamen were standing about, laughing, one of whom held a half emptied bucket of water.
The boy's head ached and he was thoroughly drenched and miserable.
"Up you get!" said Long Tom, pausing in his walk to and fro in the waist of the schooner, "Time you were gettin' breakfast on the cabin table. Cap'n always raises thunder when breakfast is late."
Ralph, on rising to his feet, nearly pitched down again, being brought up with a round turn in the lee scuppers.
"Easy now, and get 'e sea legs on," suggested Bludson, who was balancing himself dexterously in his walk.
The wind had stiffened, and a crisp plain of dancing white caps met Ralph's gaze as he steadied himself by the bulwarks. The Curlew, under a single reefed fore and mainsail and a single jib, was gracefully rising and falling to the rhythmic motion of long and ponderous waves.
The unaccustomed roll bewildered the lad from the mountains, the singing of the wind through the shrouds buzzed strangely in his ears. He made a dive for the cook's galley, where Neb was dishing up the cabin meal.
"Mind yo' steps, now," the negro cautioned him, as Ralph, with a waiter full of dishes, started for the companionway.
The boy, though wet and shivering, determined to do his duty, come what might. By the assistance of Long Tom, who seized him by the collar and propelled him roughly but safely across the deck, he managed to reach the cabin.
He got the table arranged somehow, placing the dishes in the rough weather racks provided, then after washing his face, he made his way back to the galley and started with another waiter full of eatables.
This time something had drawn Long Tom away. Ralph did very well until he came to the open space between one of the boats and the mainmast. A rope really should have been stretched amid deck for his aid, but as others did not need it, no one thought or cared for the cabin boy.
Just as Ralph made a dive for the mast and the afterhatch beyond, the captain emerged from the companionway. The boy reached the mast in safety. Encouraged by this, he loosened his hold and started boldly for the head of the stairs.
Unfortunately the stern of the Curlew sank suddenly under the influence of a receding wave of unusual proportions. Ralph and his waiter of dishes were thrown violently forward against Captain Gary, who stood like a rock, while the boy pitched one way and his dishes went another.
All who saw the catastrophe looked on with suspended breath.
The captain glared at Ralph as the lad picked himself up, then pointed to the wreck of his breakfast.
"Clean up that rubbish," he growled, a grimness as of death settling over his face.
Two sailors sprang forward with bucket and mop. The captain turned to Ralph, who could now trace little resemblance in his superior's face and mien to the bland, almost fatherly man who had welcomed him at the Marshall House.
"My lad," said Gary, and his voice grated harshly on the ear, "I don't think the deck agrees with you. Suppose you try the fo'mast head for an hour. Come! Up you go!"
In his bewilderment Ralph attempted to mount the mainmast ratlines in a lumbering way.
"Start him up, Long Tom," roared the captain. "The fool don't even know where the fo'mast is."
Bludson again seized Ralph by the collar, propelled him the length of the deck and gave him a long boost up the forward ratlines.
Faint from sickness, shivering in his wet clothes, dizzy with the peril of his position, yet with a rising passion in his heart, the boy began to ascend. With a shifting foundation under his feet, a stiff wind flattening him against the shrouds, and a deathly swaying to and fro that increased as he went higher, he managed to reach the foretop. Crawling through the lubber hole he rested and held on.
"Up with you!" shouted the captain, but Ralph gave no heed.
He was weak, faint and dizzy. The heaving plain below made his head swin [Transcriber's note: swim?]. The schooner's deck looked fearfully small.
Casting his eye upward, he saw a narrowing ladder of rope shooting to a mere dot of a resting place twenty feet above him. It did not look as if a monkey could have held on there.
"Why in the —— don't you go on!" roared Gary, who was now pale with contained fury.
"I think the lad is sick, sir," said Duff, who happened to be near. "See—by heavens!—he has fainted."
"The kid is shamming," growled the first mate, whose watch it now was. "A dose of the paddle would bring him to, I'll warrant."
"I think you are right, Rucker," said Gary without paying any heed to the second mate. "Lay for'ard there two of you and lash him to the topmast shrouds. He shall have his hour up there, dead or alive, then we'll settle his shamming."
Two sailors, seizing some loose line, ran up the foremast to where Ralph had sunk back in a swoon, overcome by the combined effects of illness and the terrors of his position.
Lifting him to his feet, they bound him to the topmast ratlines so that his feet rested on the little platform. As they came down one said to the other:
"He ain't shamming. The lad is sick enough for a doctor, that's what 'e is, mate."
"Shet up," quoth his companion. "Let the captain hear you and he'll put you on bread and water for three days, if no worse comes. Every tub stands on its own bottom in this craft."
Meanwhile Neb had served breakfast in the cabin. Gary and Rucker went down, Duff taking the first mate's place.
This was the second mate's first voyage with Captain Gary, and he furtively sympathized with Ralph, but such is the force of discipline on shipboard that he dared not show his feelings openly.
"It's a burning shame," thought he, "to punish a land lubber of a boy the first day he ever spent at sea. Sugar wouldn't melt in Gary's mouth when I went to him for a job, but now the tune is changed. And to cap all, nobody seems to know where we're bound, unless it may be Rucker. The crew know nothing, except that we're provisioned for a long voyage, with a lot of stuff locked up in the hold as no one has seen yet."
He glanced up at the helpless boy, then shook his head.
"Hut tut! Are you sick of this cruise already, Jacob Duff? This will never do. You're in for it, so make the most of your luck, even if it turns out you do have a fiend for a skipper."
When Gary and his first officer returned, Duff went below. But as he ate, his thoughts reverted so persistently to Ralph's predicament that he grew impatient with himself. After finishing his meal he lay down in his berth and tried to sleep. Some time had elapsed when he was aroused by a sound of furious objurgation on deck.
He rose, took his cap and crept up the companionway. Captain Gary was standing by the weather rail of the quarter deck, where with clenched hands and violent gestures, he was pouring forth a flood of profane vituperation such as Duff had seldom heard equaled.
Before him was Ralph, still so weak as to require the support which Long Tom was roughly giving him, yet gazing on his infuriated commander with a steady unflinching scorn.
"Tell me you won't, eh?" stormed the captain, his feminine air and aspect completely lost in a mien of scowling ferocity. "By the living—but what's the use of swearing! Down with him to the sweat box, and if that don't tame him we'll try the paddle afterward.
"Captain Gary," interrupted Ralph undauntedly, "if I had known you yesterday as I know you now, I'd have seen you dead before I'd a been here today. I'm weak, I know; you may tie and starve me, but if you ever have me beaten—make it a good job."
Gary seemed momentarily paralyzed at such independence, then out of sheer amazement hissed forth sneeringly:
"Will your impudence tell me why?"
"Because I'll kill you!" exclaimed Ralph, with such concentrated energy of tone and accent, that Duff trembled inwardly for the boy's safety. "I know I'm in your power now, but I'd do it ten years from now if I had to wait so long. I never knew a mountain man to take a beating yet, without he got even—never!"
Such unheard of insolence appeared to deprive Gary of words wherewith to do the situation justice.
"You know what I want!" he roared at Bludson, as he left the deck. "See that it is done!"
The boatswain at once collared Ralph and took him forward, where both disappeared in the forecastle.
While this scene was being enacted, Rucker leaned against the stern rail idly picking his teeth, as his dull, hard eye glanced alternately from the vessel's course to the parties most concerned.
"What in heaven's name is it all about?" asked Duff, when the two men were alone but for the man at the wheel, who appeared to give no heed. "What has the boy done?"
"He's too independent," replied the first mate. "He can't do nothing; he couldn't even climb the fo'mast or walk the deck in a breeze. Such green uns has no business bein' independent aboard ship. If I was captain I'd a had him triced up to the mast and the paddle a going afore now."
"The lad never saw a ship till yesterday. Isn't it a little rough to expect him to find his sea legs in half an hour? He was seasick to boot."
"Sea—thunder! You never sailed with Captain Gary afore, did you?" Rucker regarded his junior with a peculiar smile. "I thought not. Well—I have. I'll give you a pointer. He'd rather send this ship to the bottom any time than stand any nonsense. That's him; and I'm sort o' built that way myself."
Duff made no response, and soon returned to his stateroom, where he remained until his own watch was called. He was a good sailor and a nervy sort of a man, but there was something so peculiarly devilish in the contrast presented by Gary's slight, feminine person and his abnormal exhibition of rage that the second mate began to doubt whether he had done wisely in shipping with an unknown captain on an unknown voyage for the sake of mere high wages.
He finally fell asleep until wakened by the sound of two bells being struck, followed by the hoarse cry of:
"Starb'd watch on deck, ahoy!"
When the second mate reached the deck the wind had freshened still more. In the southwest a low lying bank of slate colored cloud was slowly diffusing itself over that quarter of the heavens.
Under its lower edge, was a coppery hued, wind streaked border, that glistened in a dull way.
"The barometer is falling," remarked Rucker as he prepared to go below. "We're going to have a nasty spell, I guess. You might take a double reef in that jib if it gets worse. If there's any shortnin' of sail beyond that, call the captain."
In his walk to and fro the second mate's thoughts reverted to Ralph occasionally and he took pains later on, to ask Neb if the boy had had anything to eat.
"Nuttin' but braid an' water, suh. Capn's orders."
"It's a shame," thought Duff. "The lad's sick, so I don't reckon he's hungry; but he ought to have something more strengthening than that. I wonder what kind of a hole this sweat box is?"
But as the weather grew worse, Mr. Duff's attention was necessarily given entirely to the management of the vessel when on watch, and during his hours off, he usually slept away his fatigue.
The storm that gradually rose lasted, with varying fury, for three days. The Curlew proved herself a stanch and buoyant craft, easily controlled and as stiff under sail as a two decker.
It was well for all hands that this was so, for the cyclone was a dangerous one, being a stray tempest from that center breeding place of storms, the West Indies. On the second day the two strong men who were required to steer had to be lashed to the wheel. Great combers occasionally swept the decks from bow to stern. After one of these the little schooner would rise, staggering not unlike a drunken man, the brine pouring in torrents from the scuppers, and the very hull quivering from the shock of the impact of those tons of water.
The hatches were battened down and after the first day Captain Gary never left the deck. He had food and drink brought to him, as he swung to the weather shrouds, where he at times lashed himself, to avoid being washed overboard.
He was the coolest man on the ship, never losing either presence of mind or a certain lightness of spirits, totally unlike the apparently ungovernable fury that possessed him when crossed by any one under his authority. His slight figure and gloved white hands seemed endowed with muscles of steel; he was, to all appearance, impervious to fatigue or fear.
"He's a sailor, right," exclaimed Duff one day to Rucker, after Gary had brought the schooner unscathed through a mountainous wave that had threatened to overwhelm everything. "I will say this for him, he knows how to handle a ship."
"I should say!" declared the first mate. "There ain't his ekal nowhere. I've sailed with him and I know."
When the weather moderated and the schooner, after being tidied up, was plunging along with a double reefed fore and single reefed mainsail, and every one was breathing freely, Duff again thought of Ralph.
"Poor fellow," said he to himself, "it's been tougher on him than any of us. He must have thought we were going to Davy Jones any time these three days."
Not long after this he saw Long Tom bearing away a covered tin dish from the galley, and hastened to join the boatswain.
"Is that the kid's grub?" he demanded, taking off the lid and surveying the contents. "Tis, eh? Well, see here, Bludson, I call it a crying shame. Bread and water still! Heave ahead. I am going to see what kind of a place this sweat box is."
The boatswain would have remonstrated, but Duff ordered him on peremptorily. He led the way therefore to a trap door in the floor of the men's quarters in the forecastle.
Passing through this with a lighted lantern they pushed forward into the very bow of the vessel, where a small space—three cornered—was walled in. Inside was a form crouched in a corner.
The whole area was a mere closet, not only pitch dark within, but several feet below water level and with but a couple of inches of planking between a prisoner and the swashing, gurgling billows outside.
"Ralph," called Duff, "are you all right, my lad?"
"Here, boy," said Tom, setting down the tin vessel, "wake up and eat a bite. Mayhap cap'n will let you out before long. He's in a good humor today."
But Ralph did not move. Duff raised him in his arms.
The boy was insensible, either from fright, exhaustion, or the lack of suitable food. The mate's anger rose within him like a torrent.
"This is simply brutal!—it is infamous. Lead the way out of here, bos'n; or—stay! Go to Captain Gary and say that Mr. Duff wants him to come here right away."
"It's as much as my life's worth, sir."
"Go on I tell you!" Duff was white to the lips, "D'ye want to see murder done? This lad's life is at stake, I say."
While Tom went off grumbling, the second mate bathed Ralph's face with water from a jug he found, and chafed his hands.
"Poor fellow! If I lose my job and am put here with him, I will speak out. The boy hasn't had a decent thing to eat since he came aboard."
Presently the flicker of Tom's lantern was seen again. The captain was behind him, and in no good humor over the message he had received.
The dash and swirl of water outside was incessant and deafening.
"Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who gave you the authority to interfere with my designs regarding this insolent youngster?"
"Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who gave you the authority to interfere with my designs regarding this insolent youngster?"[Illustration: "Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones,"who gave you the authority to interfere with my designsregarding this insolent youngster?"]
"Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who gave you the authority to interfere with my designs regarding this insolent youngster?"[Illustration: "Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones,"who gave you the authority to interfere with my designsregarding this insolent youngster?"]
Duff's first reply was to bring Ralph's pale, inanimate face under the light.
"Captain Gary," said he, "I profess to be a man—not a brute. I recognize your authority, but when I see murder about to be done—it's time to say something."
The captain looked around as if to find a weapon wherewith to strike his subordinate down, while in his eye shone a dull spark. He did not look at Ralph, but controlled himself by a mighty effort.
"Of course," he was able to say at last, "if the kid is in any danger, that alters the state of the case. But I dare say he is shamming."
"Shamming! Look at his eyes; feel of his pulse."
The captain declined these offices. He bit his nether lip instead and regarded Duff in a peculiar way, as the latter continued his efforts to resuscitate the boy.
"We have no ship's doctor on board as you know," said Gary. "However, take him to a bunk in the men's quarters and tell the cook to make him some broth. He'll come round; then we will see how he behaves. Do you understand, Mr. Duff?"
"Aye, aye, sir. Give the boy a chance and I think he will come out all right."
Here Ralph showed signs of animation. He twisted himself as if in pain, then muttered:
"If he beats me I—I—shall—kill him! Shan't I—grandpa? You drove—me—away—cause I wouldn't—cause I—wouldn't——" He became unintelligible for a moment, but finally burst forth with feeble energy again. "Let him starve me—shut me up—but—let him keep his hands off—hands off."
The dull spark in Captain Gary's eyes seemed to enlarge and twinkle as the boy uttered these words in a semi-drowsy, spasmodic way. Presently the partially rolled up eyes opened in a natural manner and blinked feebly at the light.
At this juncture a loud cry was heard from aloft of:
"S-a-i-l h-o!"
The captain turned away as if the interruption were a welcome one to him.
"Stow that lad and see to him," he repeated, then added sternly: "Be assured of one thing, Mr. Duff, I will not forget your part in this affair."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the second mate, as the captain walked off.
Ralph was borne up into the men's quarters and placed in one of the most comfortable bunks.
Pretty soon down came Neb with a steaming dish of stewed chicken, and a good supply of broth. This, with a ship's biscuit and a cup of coffee, were fed slowly to the lad by one of the sailors, until he was strong enough to help himself.
"That's cabin grub, lad," remarked the sailor. "Second mate ordered it himself."
Ralph, with the horror of those three days of darkness, and pitching, and churning seas still upon him, thanked his stars that he seemed to have one friend on board.
Meanwhile, on deck all hands were watching the approach of a large steamship that was bearing down upon the Curlew to windward. The schooner was sailing with the wind abeam.
Presently the captain, who was examining the stranger through a glass, ordered the helmsman to "ease away a bit."
The Curlew fell off more before the wind, when it was seen that the steamer slightly changed her course so as to meet the altered movements of the schooner.
Gary and Rucker now put their heads together, then the first mate, summoning the boatswain, disappeared below.
"Hold her up a little, Mr. Duff," said the captain to the second officer, who was once more at his post. "She is a man of war, I think, and though I have no love for their prying ways, we must not seem to want to avoid her, now that she evidently intends to speak us."
So the schooner's head was put to windward, and the two vessels rapidly drew near each other.
It could soon be seen that the stranger was an armored cruiser, of great power and speed.
"Run up the Stars and Stripes," said Gary. "Let him see what we are. Perhaps he'll be satisfied and pass on."
This was done, but evoked no response from the cruiser, now less than a mile away. Suddenly the warship swung gracefully around, showing along her dull gray side a row of guns, while over bow and stern loomed two immense cannon of a caliber sufficient to sink the Curlew at a single discharge.
Several little flags followed one another up to the cruiser's mastheads.
"Get out the code, Mr. Duff," ordered the captain. "He's signaling. What in the mischief can he want?"
Duff plunged into the cabin, reappearing a moment later with the signal book. Opening this, he compared the flags as seen through the glass with similar ones in the book, and their meanings.
"Well?" said the captain impatiently.
"He orders us to heave to under his quarter. Says he is going to send a boat aboard.
"The deuce he is! Well, I suppose we might as well do as he says. Strikes me as a pretty high handed proceeding though, in time of peace. Look! There go his colors at last. British, by thunder!"
As the cross of St. George unfolded to the breeze, Captain Gary, looking somewhat anxious, bade Duff obey the cruiser's order; then hastened below in the wake of his first mate and boatswain.
By the time the Curlew had rounded to, a boat was leaving the warship's side as she lay broadside, hardly a quarter of a mile off. Though the sea was still rough, six pair of oars brought the boat spinning over the waves.
Two officers were in the stern sheets, one of whom—a young third lieutenant—was soon on the deck of the schooner.
At this juncture Captain Gary reappeared, followed by Rucker. Long Tom had already gone forward.
"What schooner is this?" demanded the officer, after the first salutations had passed.
"I should like to know first what right you have to ask that question," replied Gary in his most suave manner. "These are times of peace, when every one is privileged to attend to his own affairs, I believe."
"Yes, when his affairs are not injurious to others. There is surely no harm in asking a vessel's name."
"Is it customary to stop them on the high seas, and send a boat aboard to find out?"
"Well, yes—under certain circumstances." The lieutenant smiled. "Especially so when we are under orders to that effect. To be plain, sir, we suspect you of being engaged in an unlawful enterprise."
As may be supposed, Duff was paying the closest attention, for he and most others on board had shipped, not knowing the object of the voyage, but tempted by the high wages.
"You do, eh." It was Gary's turn to smile now. "You men o' war's men often make mistakes as well as other people. This is the Curlew, four days out of Savannah, in ballast, and bound for Bermuda."
"You are clear out of your course, if that is the case."
"The storm did that for us. We had a three days' siege of it."
"Well, let me see your papers and take a look through the hold. It can do no harm."
"None in the least," replied the captain.
He then ordered the main hatch opened as he escorted the officer down to the cabin in order to inspect the ship's papers.
Rucker followed. Duff, impelled by curiosity, watched the opening of the hatch, which had remained closely sealed ever since he had been aboard.
An apparently empty hold was all that rewarded his eye, except for the usual stores and provisions necessary for a long voyage.
"If Bermuda is really our port, we've got grub enough, and to spare," thought he as he returned to the quarter-deck.
Meanwhile the lieutenant, after a thorough inspection of the hold, returned to the open air. He still seemed unsatisfied, and cast curious glances here and there over the vessel's trim proportions. Finally he gave it up.
"Your papers seem to be all right," he said, "and you certainly have no cargo, though you are provisioned for a voyage round the world, I should say."
"Barrels of meal," said the captain. "My owner had a lot on hand, and thought it might fetch a better price in the Bermudas than at home. We can trade it for potatoes."
"Well, I wish you success," added the officer, pausing at the ladder, and touching his cap to Gary and the mates. "Pardon whatever inconvenience we may have occasioned."
He went down the side, the boat pulled back to the cruiser, and the latter steamed away westward.
The Curlew, holding east, soon helped to place her dangerous neighbor hull down, when Captain Gary gave the order for all hands to be summoned aft. The crew came tumbling back into the waist, a swarthy, brawny, reckless looking set of men. Two of them brought Ralph up and set him down on a coil of rope.
The warm meal, the sight of human faces, the sounds of life and light, had already renewed his strength and spirits. He was no longer so ill, and the bright sunlight and the heaving waves sent a sort of thrill through him. The sea was not all terrible after all.
"Now, men," began the captain, when all had assumed a decorous silence, "what do you think that war ship supposed we were?"
There was no reply to this, though the men looked at each other, then turned to their commander, as if expecting an answer. The captain broke into a harsh laugh.
"Why," he continued, "they thought this ship was the famous slaver, the Wanderer. I guess you've all heard of the Wanderer."
Yes, they had. Duff noticed that Rucker and Long Tom were the only two who seemed to be indifferent to this announcement.
One or two of the sailors winked at each other as if the news that was to come would not be very much of a surprise, after all.
"We are so far advanced on our way," continued the captain, "that I have concluded to let you know who and what we are and where we are bound. In case we are liable to another overhauling you can better assist in throwing the intermeddlers off the true scent.
"We fooled them this time, but that was because the boarding officer was a green one. If an old hand at the business comes aboard it may be necessary to chuck him over the side and run for it. Therefore it is right you should know things, in order the more intelligently to obey orders.
"This schooner is the Wanderer, men. You have shipped on the Wanderer, bound for the coast of Guinea after negroes for the Cuba market. How does that suit you?
"If there are any grumblers, speak up. You've got high wages, light work, good grub, and a chance—if you stand by the ship—to share in the profits at the end of the voyage. Now, what d'ye say?"
There was some muttering and laying of heads together on the part of the crew, then one old salt pulled off his cap, ducked his head, and after carefully transferring a quid of tobacco from his mouth to his pocket, said:
"If so be the rest don't care, I don't. If so be some on us had knowed afore we shipped what kind of cargo we was after, we might have thought twice afore we signed. Niggers is niggers. Some say they is humans, some say they ain't. But this here shippin' 'em like two legged cattle be mighty resky nowadays. Less'n we make a heap."
"Oh, you shut up!" interrupted the captain, laughing. "All the scruples any of you have is concerning the money there is in the cruise. Am I right?"
"Well, a man's obleeged to look out for number one, cap'n," responded the fellow, falling back and restoring his quid to his left jaw.
Ralph seemed about to speak, but as Gary's cold, hard eye fell on the lad, prudence bade him hold his peace. Besides he did not more than half comprehend the nature of the captain's explanation.
The face of the second mate was a picture of disgust and irresolution. He said nothing, however, until the captain went below. Then he followed.
"Captain Gary," said he, when the two were alone in the cabin, "you should have had my right hand sooner than have got me off on such a cruise had I known its object before I signed with you."
"I know you," replied Gary somewhat scornfully. "You have just about conscience enough not to violate your word when the sacrifice would be too great. Of course you don't approve. I never asked for your approval; wouldn't give a cent for it if I had it. But you signed—for high wages—to go wherever I choose to sail. Is not that so?"
"In one sense, yes. But a slaver now is little better than a pirate. You should have been more open."
"And you less greedy for money. I say you are in for it. There is no chance to secure another mate, and I intend to see that you do your duty."
The two men regarded each other steadily for a moment, then the mate heaved a sigh.
"I don't care for your threats," said he. "It's that same conscience of mine which you think so little of that troubles me. As long as I am your second mate I shall do my duty. But I give you fair warning: when we get to port, if there is another ship where a man can get a job I shall leave you."
"You'll leave without your pay, then," retorted the captain.
Duff, without replying, left the cabin. He had explained his sentiments, and that was all he could do at present. In his succeeding round of ship inspection he was halted in the forecastle by Ralph, who had lain down again.
"Oh, Mr. Duff, won't you please explain to me what the captain meant when he said we were bound after negroes for the Cuban market."
"It's plain as your nose, my lad. We are going to the west coast of Africa—somewhere about the Congo, I guess. There we take on a load of Gold Coast darkies, fetch 'em over to Cuba, run 'em in after night, then get away—if we can. If we get captured we'll all get a term in Morro Castle or some other Spanish hole, and lose everything we've got. Oh, it's a nasty business the——"
Here Mr. Duff broke off, remembering that he was saying too much before a cabin boy. But Ralph detained him by the sleeve.
"I thought the negroes were all freed."
"At home they are. But in Cuba and Brazil they are not, although the prospect is that they will be set at liberty before long. The best sentiment of the world is against slavery, you know.'
"And what we're up to is worse than all the rest, isn't it?"
"Yes; it is a vile business. But look here, my lad. Whether you like the job or not, you've shipped, and that means everything on shipboard. Make the best of it while you're with us; when you're away it's another thing."
"If you think so badly of it," persisted Ralph, "why did you ship, Mr. Duff?"
"Because, like most of the others, I went it blind for the sake of high wages. I had an idea we were on a smuggling trip. I suppose you were too green to know anything."
"I left everything to Captain Gary. But I say, Mr. Duff, I think with you that it is a low, mean business."
"H-s-s-h!" The mate made a warning gesture and turned away, just as Mr. Rucker thrust his bushy beard down the fore hatch, preceded by his burly legs and body.
The first officer looked sharply at Ralph as the boy lay in his hammock, which he had at last slung.
"You'll report for duty in the cabin tomorrow, my lad," said he. "Captain's orders. There won't be much shirking on this ship, whether or no."
After the storm, the wind and weather remained fair for many days, during which the Wanderer (as she was now called) glided into the tropics, and justified her fame on the score of speed.
One day a cry of "Land ho!" was raised. Half an hour later the irregular heights of the Cape Verde Islands began to be visible from the deck. But the schooner bore away to the southeast and no close view was obtained.
It was a lonely voyage. Scarcely any vessels were passed, and the captain avoided these in so far as he could. It was his policy to follow a route as little traveled as possible.
The glaring sun, bright skies, and even trade winds of these regions were like a new world to Ralph. At night the extreme brilliancy of the stars, framed in new and strange constellations, and the vivid play of phosphorescent waves, kept him on deck with Mr. Duff at times for hours.
These two, though so widely separated by rank, were congenial in a furtive way. Perhaps the mutual knowledge that both so heartily disapproved of the object of the voyage, was a subtle link between them.
Though awkward enough at first, Ralph persevered so faithfully in acquiring a knowledge of his new duties, that he slowly won the approval of every one on board, unless it might have been the captain. Gary preserved a sphinx-like attitude, never sparing the boy, never praising him, nor manifesting by any sign an atom of that feminine graciousness of manner that had on shore first won the lad over.
But Ralph's growing proficiency in a seaman's tasks was such, that on Rucker's advice, he was put before the mast altogether, after one of the sailors had broken several ribs by falling from aloft during a squall. The injured man, as soon as he was able, took Ralph's place in the cabin.
As they approached the African coast, alternate fogs and calms delayed their progress somewhat. The fogs were a protection from prying vessels, but the calms proved to be an unmitigated nuisance.
The ocean would be like shining glass beneath a vertical shower of the sun's rays that, at times, rendered the deck almost unendurable. Awnings were stretched and for hours and even days the Wanderer would lie almost motionless, except for the impalpable swell from which the bosom of the sea is never entirely free.
One dull, damp morning, when the decks were slippery with moisture and a curtain of mist veiled everything beyond a hundred yards, Ralph, who was in the foretop on the lookout, fancied that he detected a sound somewhat different from the usual noises surrounding a vessel even in a calm.
They were nearing the land, as the captain's last reckoning showed, yet soundings taken not half an hour previous, had discovered no bottom at a depth of several hundred feet. Ralph called to a sailor below to ask the second mate to come forward.
"Well, what now, Granger?" demanded Duff from the main deck.
Ralph had hardly explained, before the mate sprang up the rigging to the lad's side. The trained ear of the officer instantly divined what might be the matter.
"Down with you, Ralph," said he, hurrying to the deck himself. "Pipe up all hands and shorten sail!" he shouted to the boatswain, then emerging from the forecastle. "Lively now!"
The schooner was under full canvas, with the purpose of making the most of what little air might be stirring. A moment before, the most profound repose was reigning, but with the shrill call that instantly rang out, all was changed to a scene of the most intense activity.
Men came tumbling up to join the watch on deck in lowering two of the jibs, and reefing a third, while the great fore and aft sails were reduced to less than half their size in a twinkling.
Orders came sharp and fast, three seamen in each top were hastily lowering and lashing the topsails, when the sound heard by Ralph, and which had rapidly increased to a sputtering roar, was split as it were by a crash of thunder. The fog melted away like a dissolving dream, showing beyond the burst of sunlight, a coppery cloud that swept the ocean to windward, driving before it a line of hissing foam.
By this time captain and first mate were up. The Wanderer lay without headway, though bobbing slowly as a slight whiff of air stirred the flattened mainsail.
"Meet her! Meet her, Mr. Duff!" shouted Gary, instantly realizing the coming peril.
The men were tumbling from the tops, Ralph among the last, for though ordered down by the considerate mate, he returned with the others when the topsails were to be stowed.
Duff and two old hands were at the wheel; others were lashing loose articles, when with a scream and a screech, the squall was upon them.
At that season and on that coast, these sudden commotions are especially treacherous and full of peril. Coming, as it were from nowhere, either on the heels of fog or calm, their advent is doubly dreaded by the unwary mariner. When the blast struck the schooner, over she heeled, and in a trice the lee scuppers were seething with brine. Each man clung to something for life, as the deck sloped like a house roof.
"Ease her! Ease her!" roared the captain from the main weather bobstays. "For your lives, men! Shove her nose up in the wind."
The scud, as it struck the port bow, flew like shot across the deck. So acute was the shriek of the wind, even shouted orders could hardly be heard.
The Wanderer, trembling like a living thing, slowly—at first almost imperceptibly—rose from the blows hammering at her sides like thunder. There was a long moment of intense, even agonizing suspense, then she began to forge ahead, buffeted, battered, heeling dizzily still to leeward, yet—saved, for the time being at least.
"That was a close call, captain," remarked Duff as the two stood together five minutes later, clinging to the weather shrouds.
"I should say so. Who first heard the thing coming?"
"Young Granger, I believe. There's good stuff in that lad, I make bold to say."
These words shouted into Gary's ear, for the squall was still at its height, caused a deep scowl to settle on the captain's brow. He turned away without a word.
"Gary doesn't like that boy for some reason," was the mate's inward comment. "I wonder why?"
After twenty minutes of wind so furious that the sea was fairly flattened, the squall ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun, before the great ocean billows had time to rise. But in that short interval a jib had been blown into ribbons and the foresail torn loose from its treble reefing points. A great rent was made by its violent flappings before it could be again secured. In the struggle one man was knocked insensible, so severe were the surgings of the boom, as the heavy canvas jarred the whole ship with its cannon-like reports.
One result was a fair after breeze and a clear sky. The schooner bowled along at a nine knot gait, while the men worked cheerily to repair the slight injuries occasioned by the squall.
That day the trailing smoke of a steamer was indistinctly seen in the southern horizon. The helm was instantly put about and the Wanderer hauled up on a northeast course, which was maintained all day.
The captain and first mate took careful reckonings more than once, verifying each other's castings of their latitude and longitude. It became generally understood that land was close at hand and an air of expectancy became general on board.
The succeeding night was cloudless in the earlier part. Later on a mist slowly inclosed them as they neared the coast.
Ralph sat up late, for he was vaguely excited at the prospect of beholding what was to him a new world. But he gave out at last and turned in, intending, however, to be on deck at the first notice of land. Youth sleeps sound, and his next conscious sensation was that of being rudely shaken.
"On deck with you, boy," said the sailor who had roused him. "Going to snooze all day?"
He leaped from his hammock, and ran up the companionway. Then an exclamation of astonishment burst from his lips.