Pete was at the wheel, his old weathered face pale and intent upon the scene not so distant. He had grown fond of the boys and could scarcely bear to look upon their overwhelming danger.
When the whale was in his first flurry of pain, he sent the boat high into the air with one stroke of his mighty tail, and like loose articles the boys were scattered out of it into the boiling vortex of water. This was the sight that had called forth the alarm on board theSea Eagle, and made the captain spring to quick action.
No time was to be lost, for the boys were as helpless as straws in the maelstrom. One thing was fortunate, they were all pretty fair swimmers, but that would not help them if the whale should, in his fury, chance to see them. But here, their very insignificance saved them from his first rush. The mother and her young had taken the alarm and were forging away to the southward.
The boys were now but several dark spots in the swirling waters. Jo had the closest call, for one of the flukes of the whale’s tail swept a huge wave over him, and he thought he was going to be carried to the bottom of the ocean. Jim at the very first had called out a warning, “Boys, keep awayfrom the boat.” It was a lucky thing that he did so. For as soon as the whale caught sight of it he made a furious surge for it, and, opening his great jaws, he caught it squarely across the middle.
There was a crunching sound, only more intense, as when a dog crushes a bone. As Jo said afterward, “It wasn’t more than a toothpick for him.” Meanwhile the boys were swimming in the opposite direction as fast as their arms and feet could propel them. The whale now became aware of a new enemy bearing down upon him.
Only this was even larger than he was, though of the same color. It was making a chug-chug sound as it came towards him. In the dim brain of the whale was an idea struggling for birth. Was this a strange sea monster that was going to contest with him the supremacy of the seas, or was it some of his antediluvian ancestors come back to earth, I mean to sea, again?
There the reasoning of the whale stopped. A sudden blind fury came over him and he charged for theSea Eagle. Two rifle shots rang out from the deck of the ship, and one tore deep into the black carcass. Then the monster threw his flukes into the air and down he sounded towards the depths of the sea.
In a moment the yacht was alongside the exhausted swimmers, and they were hauled aboard. Jeems Howell was about done for, and had to be worked over for some time; Jo also had shipped considerable salt water, but Jim and Juarez were in tolerable condition considering the experience they had been through.
“I hope you lads are satisfied now,” grumbled the captain.
“He chawed our boat to kindling wood,” said Jim, looking ruefully to where the fragments strewed the sea.
“He would have done the same by you, if we hadn’t come along,” remarked the captain. “Served you right, too.”
“I hate not getting him, that’s what worries me,” said Jim.
“How did you feel when he tilted you and the boat up in the air?” inquired Tom curiously.
“Can’t say,” replied Jim. “It was so sudden, and I didn’t take any notes.”
“I felt like I was going to be another Jonah,” remarked Jo feebly.
“He’s the Jonah,” remarked the captain, pointing a contemptuous thumb at Jeems, who had just gotten to his feet.
“How can I ever thank you, Captain?” asked Jeems Howell, who had a sly streak of humor at times. “You saved my life at the risk of your own. It was a noble deed, and one long——”
“Oh, g’wan with you,” cried the captain. “I don’t want none of your banquet speeches.”
To escape the infliction, he retreated to the quarter deck, where he stood ready to repel any thankful survivors who might creep upon him. Tom was busy asking questions about the whole unfortunate business, for he had a very inquisitive mind, had Tom. Jeems, however, was the only one among the gallant survivors inclined to humor him. Jim was looking longingly over the expanse of ocean, not thinking of his dripping clothes, but as though he had lost something, as indeed he had. He was minus one large whaleboat and one small boat. It was not the boat, however, that he was looking for, and no one but Jim would have taken a continued interest in his whaleship but would have given him up for lost.
“jim stood prepared to aim.”—P.61. Frontier Boys in Sierras.“jim stood prepared to aim.”—P.61.
“There he blows!” he cried suddenly. “Let’s try for him again.”
“No more of that,” roared the captain. “Not while I’m alive on this boat.” Jim smiled. He had not really intended to go after him in the boatbecause he realized how foolhardy such a performance would be, but he had another scheme in mind, and he prepared to carry it out.
“Come on, boys, let’s give him a shot from the cannon,” he cried.
“That’s the idea!” exclaimed Juarez. “We will bring the ship up close enough to get a good aim.”
“I’d like to get even with him for the kick he gave me,” cried Jo viciously.
“Well, you boys are the beatingest,” remarked the captain.
But he made no objection to this plan, and took the wheel himself, so as to maneuver theSea Eagleto within good striking distance of the big mammal. Meanwhile, the boys lost no time in getting the small cannon ready for the fray. All was excitement and energy. Here was a target worth shooting at. The whale seemed to be resting after his recent exertions, and was rolling easily on the surface of the ocean.
Tom stripped the jacket of canvas from the shining gun of brass, Juarez and Jo got the ammunition from the hold, and soon had the charge ready to fire. Jim stood prepared to aim. The boys waited impatiently for the right moment to come, when the yacht would be as close to the quarryas it would be wise to venture. Steadily the little ship bore down toward the whale, keeping half quartered to it.
It seemed that he must take alarm and the boys held their breath in fear lest the monster should take fright and make a sudden disappearance into the depths. The harpoon still sticking high up on his side gave a line to aim by. Then Jim depressed the muzzle of the cannon until it was point blank at the long black target now shelving up from the blue surface of the ocean. Just as the whale wakened to his danger, Jim pulled the lanyard and fired. There was a roar, a white gush of smoke, and the shell tore into the vitals of the great whale.
Then there was action to which the disturbance when the whale was harpooned was a mere flurry. He thrashed the ocean into foam and the blood from his wound dyed the waters crimson. At last he rose bodily in the air and fell back upon the surface of the ocean with a mighty whack that could have been heard for miles. The waters retreated from his fall in great waves that made the little steamer rock.
There was great jubilation on the deck of theSea Eaglewhen Jim made that shot, which was notso remarkable either, when one considers the size of the target and the nearness of the object aimed at. But the captain was decidedly enthusiastic over Jim’s success, and clapped him heartily on the back with manifest approval.
“You ought to be in the navy, lad,” he cried. “You are a born American gunner. Old Paul Jones ought to have had you.”
“That wasn’t a hard shot, Captain,” remarked Jim. “It was your navigating that really deserves the credit.”
“Too bad we have to leave him,” said the captain. “That fellow would be good for a lot of oil.”
“I should like a closer look at him,” urged Jim. “I believe I’ll lower the other boat and board him.”
“I reckon he can’t do you any harm now, Skipper,” said the captain, “and I suppose a whale does look cur’us to you. I see by that harpoon that you made a pretty good shot with the iron; just a little nearer to the shoulder and you would have fetched him.”
The boat was all ready to lower and in a jiffy they had it in the water. Tom was allowed to go along this time, but Jeems Howell was among the missing, he absolutely and steadfastly refused to go on the excursion.
“Come along, Jeems,” urged Jo. “You never saw a dead whale.”
“But I have seen a live one, and my curiosity is satisfied,” replied Jeems.
“He won’t bite you, jump in,” said Tom, who was quite brave now.
“How do I know that he is really dead?” replied Jeems. “Like as not he will give a last flop and crush you. The deck for me.”
Realizing that it was useless to urge Jeems the boys pulled away from theSea Eagle, and rowed over to the dead whale.
“My! but he is a monster,” said Juarez. “Let’s board him.”
“All right,” agreed Jim.
So Tom jammed the bow of the boat against the whale’s side, and the three J’s—Jim, Jo and Juarez—made a landing on Whale Island. It made Jo feel a little squeamish standing upon the mass of the dead monster that yielded under his foot. It seemed that his tread must surely cause the whale to make a final effort to get rid of his enemies.
“He must be all of seventy feet,” cried Jim, pacing as far as he could.
“His head is eight or ten feet long,” said Juarez.
“Too bad you can’t take some of him for a souvenir,” said Tom.
“We are mighty glad that he didn’t get any of us for a souvenir,” remarked Jo.
“I’m going to get my harpoon any way,” said Jim. As he wrenched at it, the whale suddenly rose with a gentle heave, and Jo was almost paralyzed with fright, and even Juarez turned somewhat pale. However, it was only an unusually large wave that had raised the whale up and allowed the placid carcass to slide down again.
“Ahoy there, squall coming!” hailed the captain’s voice from the quarter deck of theSea Eagle. “Get aboard quick.”
The boys obeyed, but with obvious reluctance, for the whale had much of interest for them yet. But they saw the squall whitening over the ocean from the northwest quarter, and coming with great rapidity.
“We don’t want to worry the old man any more to-day,” suggested Jim, “so we will pull for the shore.”
Even then they were none too quick, for as they were swinging the boat to the davits the squall struck theSea Eagle, heeling her well over, and there was a rush and roar of wind and flying spray from the yeasty seas. It was fun while it lasted. The prow of the ship was turned eastward once more, leaving the whale, but not alone.
Already the birds were gathering to their feast, and from all directions cut the dark-finned sharks to get their share. In a short time all was turmoil about the whale, fluttering wings and whirling foamy water. This was too good a target for the boys, so they decided to give the crazy cannibal crew a surprise.
“Let’s give those beggars a farewell salute, Juarez,” cried Jim.
“I’m with you,” he replied.
“What’s the distance?” inquired Jo.
“Quarter of a mile,” hazarded Tom.
“It’s nearer a half,” replied Jim.
“It don’t look it,” put in Jo.
“That’s because objects on the ocean seem nearer than they do on land.”
“Why is that so?” inquired the ever inquisitive Tom.
Jim was clearly stumped by this inquiry, but he did not let on that he was puzzled in the least.
“No time to tell you now. That gun is about ready to fire.”
“You don’t know,” jeered Tom, “that’s just an excuse.”
“Show you later if you can’t study it out for yourself,” remarked Jim nonchalantly.
Juarez now had the cannon loaded and ready to fire. TheSea Eaglewas moving obliquely away from the storm-center and it was a very difficult shot, but still a possible one on account of the size of the target. The old captain took much interest in the skill of his protégé Jim, whom he considered worthy to be enrolled in the straight-shooting American navy. He stood with his sturdy figure well braced and the glass in hand ready to mark a successful shot.
“Don’t you think you have got that weepin’ raised a leetle too high?” he inquired anxiously of Jim.
“I’m aiming a little over, sir,” replied Jim, “becauseI think the shell will fall a little in that distance.”
“I guess you know your business better than I do, Skipper,” replied the captain. “I was no shot ’cept with a blunderbuss that would scatter.”
“Make a bull’s-eye, Jim,” urged Juarez.
“You mean a whale’s eye,” put in Jo.
“Humph!” said Jim, “don’t talk that way; you will make me miss.”
“You mean——” Jo got no further, for Jim held up a cautionary hand.
“Ready now,” he cried.
The captain clapped the spy-glass to his eye, there was a roar and the quarter deck shook under their feet, then the captain shook the glass above his head.
“Yer struck into the shark gang, Skipper,” he cried, “I said you would be a recruit for John Paul Jones.”
“Let me have a chance,” said Jo.
“All right,” agreed Jim, “I don’t want to be a hog.”
So Jo took his turn. With due deliberation he aimed the shining little cannon aft toward the distant fray. Then he fired, but the shot sent up a spurt from a wave some distance short.
“We are getting too far away,” said Jim, “to get in an accurate shot.”
“Say, Jim,” put in Tom, “you haven’t told me why things seem closer on the ocean than they do on land.” If pertinacity meant success in life, Tom Darlington would no doubt reach the top of the ladder. Jim was somewhat surprised, and he did not want to admit ignorance, so he sparred for time.
“Now, Thomas,” said James, “I am not paid to do your thinking for you, but if you will sit down and think for ten minutes and if at the end of that time you have not reached a logical conclusion, I will explain the matter to you.”
“Ho! Professor!” railed Tom, pulling out his silver timepiece, which was so heavy that it would be a dangerous weapon if thrown, “if you ain’t ready with your explanation you will lose your place.”
Jim took this warning with perfect nonchalance, but his mind was very active just the same trying to solve this problem, because Tom would never let up on him if he found out that he was bluffing. But why was an object nearer, anyway, in appearance on the ocean than on land? Why? Perhaps it was the difference in atmosphere. No, for inhigh altitudes things appeared closer on account of the clarity of the air than they did at sea level.
Six minutes passed, still no answer had come to Jim, yet he was perfectly calm and contained as though he were the perfection of wisdom. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded Tom serenely as he sat on the opposite side of the deck on a coil of rope, regarding his big brother skeptically. Eight minutes had passed, and Tom, taking out his watch, recorded the fact with quiet triumph.
“Eight minutes and a quarter,” he declared, “and no land in sight yet.”
“Eight and a half,” he tolled, “nine!” Jim was apparently entirely composed, but his mind had not yet reached a complete explanation. It was, however, on the right track, but the time was short.
“Ten,” cried Tom. “Speak up, Professor.”
“It’s your place first,” he replied.
“Give it up.”
“Now listen carefully,” began Jim in a magisterial manner, “and if there is anything you don’t quite understand, raise your hand.”
“Humph!” grunted Tom, “I guess that I can understand anything you can tell me.”
“Well, children, it’s this way,” continued Jim. “When you are upon the land and you look atsomething in the distance your eyesight is stretched from point to point by intervening objects, while on the ocean your vision instead of being stretched out collapses as it were because there is a monotonous level between your eye and the object. Now I hope you will remember what I have just told you, children. School is dismissed.”
Jo seemed to be unduly impressed with the idea that he was a schoolboy again, so he grabbed Tom’s hat and made as if he was going to throw it overboard. Tom made a grab for Jo and missed, then there was a great chase around the main deck. Jo was very fleet of foot and gained on his pursuer, until Tom saw that he must resort to stratagem; so no sooner had Jo disappeared around the corner of the quarter deck than Tom doubled back on his own trail, to the cook’s galley, that had a door opening on either side, so that one could step into either passageway.
Tom leaped into the galley, and was quick to the other door, that he opened a wee bit; he saw that Jo had just swerved into the passageway and down he came full tilt toward where Tom lay in ambush, swinging the latter’s captured hat in his hand. Tom watched him eagerly, then he sprang out from his hiding place directly in front of theflying Jo, who was utterly surprised, but he was under such headway that he could not stop.
Tom met him squarely and down they went in a heap, the lurch of the ship sending Jo’s head heavily against an iron stanchion. His body gave a jerk and quiver, then he stretched out unconscious. We all know that skylarking of that kind sometimes produces the worst accidents. Naturally Tom was terribly frightened, for he thought Jo was killed, and he did look it, stretched out, with his eyes closed.
“Jim!” cried Tom, “Jim! come here quick.”
There was something in Tom’s voice that made Jim appear in a hurry.
“Get the brandy,” he said. Tom lost no time in getting the bottle out of a locker in the main cabin. When he returned he found Juarez and Jeems standing near looking very sober, while the old captain and Jim worked over him.
The Frontier Boys had gone through many dangers unscathed, and it seemed terrible that Jo should be so badly hurt in a moment of play. In fifteen minutes’ time, however, Jo was partially himself, but he could not walk and had to be helped to his cabin, and that night he had a high fever, but next day he was quite himself, due mainly to a rugged constitution.
A few days later the weather began to change. The sea became rough and boisterous, with head winds and decidedly colder, but the boys did not complain, in fact they rather liked it, as they were strong and hardy and enjoyed battling with the elements.
“It’s the sweaters for us now,” said Jo, coming out on deck, to find the nasty gray sea swept by rain squalls, and the deck sodden and the sky sullen.
“I like it,” declared Juarez, “the tropics are all right for a few weeks, but I couldn’t stand it for long.”
“That’s because you lads are stormy petrels,” remarked Jeems.
“If by that poetic symbol you mean that we are always in trouble,” replied Jim, “you certainly have struck it.”
Then the boys went below to get their respective sweaters, the colors being chosen according to their individual taste. Tom’s was black, which is no insinuation against his character; Jim’s was blue; Juarez the same color and Jo’s red. As for hats, they still wore their weather-beaten sombreros. They were just the hats for this kind of weather.
The evening came on dark and blustery and with a steady beating rain from the northwest. Allabout, the seas were humping through the darkness. But theSea Eaglewas a staunch boat, well built, and well ballasted, and though she shipped a few seas and the spray flew high over her bridge, she did not roll or plunge unduly.
“Sort of a nasty night, Jim,” remarked Jo, as their dark forms emerged on deck from the companionway.
“It’s dark and threatening,” replied Jim, “and looks fierce, but for real high rolling give me that first night in the channel between Maui and Hawaii.”
Jo made some remark, but a sudden gust of wind took it out of his mouth and anyone to leeward would have got the benefit of it. The only light forward was a glow that came from the engine-room. Jim and Jo stepped inside out of the storm and found Juarez there as usual, and Tom was seated on a step. He was watching the two men moving around the shining engine, which worked smoothly and unceasingly, and its condition showed how carefully it was tended.
“Gosh! but it is good to get inside here out of the storm,” exclaimed Jim. The engineer nodded pleasantly, as he was a man of few words.
The engineer of theSea Eaglehas not received much attention, either in this book or in the one just preceding, but this is not because he, John Berwick, was not worthy of consideration, but because he was apparently a very quiet man, whose conversation was generally confined to monosyllables; likewise his work kept him out of the limelight, as it were.
But word had come via Juarez, who of all the crew was the only one whom the engineer admitted into his confidence to any degree, that John Berwick had really a most interesting career. This was true to a far greater extent than the boys knew. A sailor like old Pete or a mariner like Captain Kerns would see the shores of many countries and land in numerous ports, but learn nothing of the real people, or the nature of the countries.
But with the engineer it had been an entirely different proposition. He came of a good family and had received an excellent education, but from his youth he had been wild and adventurous, andwas always traveling, by different ways and in varying occupations, going into the interiors of little-known countries and becoming acquainted with the nature and character of their inhabitants.
As he is a man well worth knowing, I will describe his appearance for the benefit of the reader. As to age, John Berwick might be anywhere from thirty-five to forty years. In height, five feet nine, with rather square shoulders, and neither light nor heavy in build, but with a frame that indicated quickness and great powers of endurance.
He was evidently one of those men who have a certain care to their physical condition, without overdoing it and making physical prowess a hobby. He had found out the value of health, and condition. In his travels in remote lands, if he had gotten sick, there would be no one to bother with him, and he would be left to die, so he reasoned that it was better to be a live man than something more wretched than a sick dog.
“I used to smoke like a chimney, Ezac,” he once said to Juarez. He never called the latter by his full name, it being either “War” or “Ezac,” according to his mood, “but I quit about five years ago. I didn’t make any resolution about it either and would smoke now if I wished to.”
“I suppose you felt miserable for a while after you quit?” said Juarez.
“No, strange to say, I didn’t. In fact, I began to feel fine and fit in a week or two and I found that I could meet any crisis that came up on the level, and did not have to make an effort of the will to step up to it and brace myself to it as I used to. But I’m not preaching. Smoke if you want to, Ezac.”
“I don’t want to,” replied Juarez, “and what’s the use of taking up with something you don’t care for? Just so much extra baggage.” Berwick smiled at this, showing his fine white teeth.
“Well, now, ‘War,’ that’s unusual sense for a kid, I must say. The fact that you don’t want a thing for a boy of your years is no argument. It may be smoking or chewing or something else that will make ’em devilish sick, but a kid will do it just for a show and to make an impression on his friends what a terrible character he is.”
“None of us are like that,” said Juarez. “Perhaps it is because we have seen plenty of real life on the frontier and have had plenty of excitement and adventure without resorting to foolishness.”
“Something in that, Ezac,” nodded Berwick.
This will serve as an introduction to this interestingman, before we listen, with the Frontier Boys, to the story that he has to tell. I may add here that John Berwick had dark hair, thinning in front and brushed straight with the forehead, dark hazel eyes, generally pleasant in expression, but capable of becoming harsh and hard with anger. He wore a rather slight dark moustache above a mouth thin-lipped and wide. The chin was square, and the whole complexion of the face rather dark.
The boys had never gathered before in the engine-room in a body, and as Jeems Howell’s tall figure loomed in the doorway the gathering was complete. It was because the boys had never imposed on him that the engineer was inclined to be gracious, on this occasion. Then, too, there was something about the warm interior of the engine-room, contrasted with the storm outside, that lent itself to good comradeship and anecdote.
“I suppose that you boys have never traveled a great deal, except in the West, have you?” questioned John Berwick.
“That’s right, Mr. Berwick,” said Jim; “we expect to visit a few other countries, though, before long, if we find this ‘Lost Mine’ we are looking for. You know you can’t travel without money.”
“Not in your own yacht,” replied Berwick.
“I generally walked, or,” seeing a gleam of humor in Jim’s eye, “or worked my passage.”
“We will stick to our yacht,” remarked Jim, “seeing that we have it on our hands.”
“Quite right, too,” replied the engineer.
“You must have had some rather unusual experiences in your travels,” prompted Jo.
“Juarez says that you have been pretty much all over the world.”
“That’s so,” replied the engineer, “but I do not know as I have learned enough to pay me for the exertion.”
“Tell the boys about that time you traveled in Russia,” said Juarez.
“Which time?” questioned Berwick.
“Don’t you know?” asked Juarez, slightly confused, “when you were riding in the railroad carriage?”
“And got rather hungry?”
“Sure, that’s it,” said Juarez, smiling.
“That’s only an anecdote,” replied the engineer. “But I will tell it if you think it will interest.”
Being assured on this point, he began:
“I suppose you boys know what it is to be hungry?”
“I have got a pretty good idea of it after eatingone of Tom’s dinners,” remarked Jim. “You see he don’t believe in having anything left over. Thinks it’s wasteful, so he just cooks dabs of things as though we had no more appetites than a group of maiden ladies who were taking afternoon tea.”
There was a general laugh at this, the exaggeration being so manifest that even Tom joined in, still there was some truth in Jim’s jocose remarks, for Tom did have a “close” side to him, which showed even in cooking. It was always evident that Thomas Darlington would become the financier among the Frontier Boys. After the laughter had died down the engineer took up the Russian incident again.
“I venture to say that my hunger on the occasion I am about to speak of was somewhat more real than yours, Skipper. I was traveling first-class from St. Petersburg and heading for the German frontier. Very foolishly I did not provide myself with a hamper of provisions, supposing that I would be able to get food along the way. I never made that particular mistake again.
“I had plenty of money in those days, and was traveling, as I say, first-class. When I got in my compartment at St. Petersburg I supposed at firstthat I was going to have it all to myself, and I was very well pleased because I could take things easy and sleep undisturbed through the most of what promised to be a very dreary trip.
“It was then about eight o’clock in the morning, and snowing furiously, and I could scarcely see the outlines of the handsome station through the storm of snow. But it was very comfortable in my compartment, which I was pleased to note was of unusual elegance. So I did not mind the delay at first.
“I noticed that the cushions of the seats were of a deep softness and of a rich crimson velvet. There were likewise hangings over the windows, with heavy golden tassels on the same. Then I observed a crest stamped on the embossed leather upon the inside of the door, and it was also repeated in gold upon the back of the seats.
“I must admit that this seemed a good deal of style, but I did not consider it any too much for a representative American citizen traveling abroad. I was a fool in those days, but made up in audacity what I lacked in wit. After a half hour had passed beyond the schedule time set for the train’s starting, I began to get uneasy and was just about to get out of the compartment to help move thingsalong, when I saw a gorgeous sleigh drive up in front of the station.
“There was a splendid ermine robe thrown over the back, and two plumes in front. The horses were fine animals too, driven three abreast after the Russian fashion; over the one in the center was a single arch on which jingled the merry bells. The middle horse was a great black, and his comrades on either side were gray, the very symbols of the snowy landscape.
“From the furs of the sleigh emerged a gigantic Russian, blonde-bearded, and under his fur overcoat was some sort of a military uniform. I watched him with interest as he came toward the train, accompanied by the station-master, and met by the salutes of the soldiers, who are everywhere in Russia.
“He came straight towards the carriage where I was seated in lonely pomp, and I had just time to seat myself in the opposite corner of the compartment when the door was thrown open, and—enter his royal nibs—the Archduke Alexandewitch or something or other. At least this was high nobility of some kind. His bearded face was very red, and his system had evidently been warmed by something besides exercise.
“His eyes were blurred, and, coming from the light into the semi-darkness of the carriage, he did not see me. A guard deposited a hamper within, and he and the station-master bowed profoundly to me likewise, evidently taking me for some exalted personage, possibly the Czar, who, however, was a giant of a man while I was only medium in height. So it must have been someone else.”
“You certainly were a cool hand,” remarked Jim admiringly. “I never could have done that.”
“Nor I, either,” was the chorus of the other boys.
“Just my bloomin’ cheek, as an English pal of mine used to say,” the engineer continued, “and nothing that I’m very proud of now, but it was the only thing that would have pulled me through that fix. No sooner was his Nibs seated in the train than it started.
“It made me rather tired to think that we had been delayed for that big pig of a Russian, though I suppose in the United States a train would have been held for some big-bellied politician with a pull, so that I need not have felt so aggrieved at this happening in darkest Russia. But I looked at the big Russian in disgust nevertheless. Then he sawme sitting quietly near the window opposite. One moment he was a picture of amazement, and then he let a roar out of him that shook things.
“I did not naturally understand what the Russian was saying, so I just had to let him roar, and made a few gestures for myself. I feared at first that he would have a fit of apoplexy, as he grew redder in the face than ever, but having expressed himself to his full satisfaction, with a final threat he sat down. I supposed that I should be shot or sent into exile at the first stop.”
“The first thing his Royal Highness did was to open the neat-looking wicker hamper and take out a cut-glass bottle encased in silver, the contents of which he poured into a dainty-looking glass. He took a number of drinks, but without asking me to join, which I thought was very impolite of him. Then he settled himself for a nap, first drawing out a huge pistol which he placed near him on the cushions.
“It was, of course, a silly thing for him to do, but then the man was, I thought, more than half drunk. When he first drew, I was afraid that he was going to blow me to pieces then and there, and I was ready for him. But when he laid it down and dropped off into a heavy sleep, I could have laughed.
“I would have taken a nap myself, but his stentorian snores made it impossible. There was nothing to see outside but a dreary scene through the snow that was coming down in fine, white driving particles. At times there would be distantforests of rather stunted pines, but for the most part, only the desolate stretch of plains.
“Once in a while we would come to a stop at a small station, but only for a short time, and then the train with its long line of flat-looking coaches, would rumble out over the barren plain. By-and-by I began to feel very hungry and I realized that there was going to be no stop for meals, as the other passengers, more familiar with the custom of the country, had no doubt provided themselves with hampers of provisions.
“I looked at the Grand Duke or whatever it might be, and he was sleeping as only a big man who is quite intoxicated can sleep. Then my eye wandered to the hamper. Instantly my hunger hardened into resolution. I was not going to starve with that within my reach. I stooped down and picked it up, then opened it on my knee.
“I had never seen anything more dainty, and more elegant, than was the arrangement of that basket. As for the contents, well, I can only recall, I cannot describe. For warming tea there was an arrangement of silver and ebony in one compartment. Likewise a roasted fowl in a delicious sauce, and stuffed with chestnuts. Also bread and caviar, the latter a Russian delicacy of fish-roe or eggs.”
“I wouldn’t like that,” cut in Tom.
“How do you know?” reproved Joe, “you never tried it.”
“Fish eggs!” exclaimed Tom with a grimace.
“You would have turned up your nose at birds’ nests too,” said Jim, “until the Captain told us how fine they were, and not at all like we supposed.”
“Yes,” nodded the engineer, “birds’ nests are all right, I’ve eaten them in China. They are gathered before the birds ever nest in them.”
“But go on with your story, I’m anxious to see how you made out. It was certainly an interesting experience,” urged Jim.
“I should say so,” chorused the boys.
“I’m glad you like it,” remarked the engineer, “and it was an entertaining situation, especially the lunch part of it. Where was I?”
“Caviar,” suggested Tom.
“Oh, yes. Well, on the bill of fare were different cakes, jellies and jams, all beautifully put up. As to the liquors, there were half a dozen different bottles, as I have said of cut glass, in filigree silver holders, with his Nib’s crests on the tops, engraved in silver. It was all beautiful to look upon. One liquor green, oh, such a lovely green, as a French poet says the color of a mermaid’s eyes. Anotherpurple, another the color of honey. But I had sense enough left not to take any of them, else I would have had no senses left, which would have been bad under the circumstances, for I might have wakened up to find myself at the sudden end of a rope, or sitting out on the lonely plains with some bruises and no friends.
“So I contented myself with several nice cups of tea, with a bit of lemon in them, and the rest of the bill of fare. That roasted fowl was remarkably good, and as for the sauce——! I was on the point of asking his Royal Highness for the recipe, but he was sleeping so soundly that I felt that it was a pity to disturb him. Just then I noticed that the pistol near his hand was about to fall to the floor with the jolting of the car, so I put the hamper reluctantly aside and caught the pistol.
“I stood with it in my hand regarding it with interest. A clumsy weapon indeed, though of beautiful workmanship. I hesitated, holding the weapon carefully.”
“Did you think of shooting him?” inquired Tom tremulously.
John Berwick smiled and shook his head. “No, not that. I was not a nihilist. You see I had plenty to eat, why should I be? Nevertheless, I came toa quick decision. I went to the window opposite, and opened it very carefully, no wider than I had to, and launched it safely out into a snowdrift. Then I closed the window quickly, but stood perfectly still, for I was aware that the giant back of me was stirring, a draught of the fresh air had awakened him. It appeared that my sin had found me out.
“Standing perfectly quiet, I turned my head slowly and saw that the Russian had merely changed his position, and had gone off into another slumber. So I leisurely finished my lunch, enjoying the preserves and other dainties hugely. After this part of the performance was completed, I put everything back into the hamper with the utmost neatness. To tell the honest truth, there was not a great deal left to repack, a part of the chicken, and some bread and caviar, which to the appetite of a Russian would be no more than a lamb chop to a hungry tiger.”
“Gosh!” exclaimed Jim again, “but you surely had your nerve with you.”
“Yes,” acquiesced the engineer, “and a full stomach, which is a good thing to have along with your nerve. I have noticed that some times the two go well together. However, the liquor wasuntouched, and I hoped that he would take some more and thus again become oblivious to everything else. One thing reassured me, and that was, that I had got rid of his revolver or rather pistol. I was not afraid of his shooting me, but had been afraid of his braining me with the butt end of it.
“It had now grown very dusk in the carriage, and outside the storm was sweeping over the vast plain in white swirls, and still the train lumbered westward. I decided to save the guard the trouble of lighting up, so I attended to that myself, and pulled the dark hood over the thick glass that was set in the center of the top of the compartment, so that his royal Nibs could have his siesta undisturbed.
“Then I sat myself down in the corner of the carriage, and pulled out my cigarette case, selected one and lighted it.
“‘I trust your Highness will not mind the smoke?’ I remarked in a low tone, as I gave a delicate puff into the air, but I guess that his Royal Highness did, for in a few moments he stirred ponderously, and finally sat up. Then a look of utter amazement came into his face when he saw me seated there in the corner with a cigarette in myfingers. His little puffed eyes opened as wide as they could.
“‘Poof!’ blew out through his bewhiskered mouth, expressing utmost disdain and indignation. Then he totally ignored my presence, and picking up the hamper, he set it before him. The crucial moment had come, and I must confess that I felt a few creeps of apprehension go over me. As for his Royal Highness, his whole attitude was of great hunger about to be satisfied.
“It showed in his popped eyes and the workings of his large, full-lipped mouth. Then he flung back the top of the hamper and leaned forward eagerly. If his first amazement was utter this was too utter. He sat bolt upright for a second, then he dived at the basket again. He poked around in it. He shook it vigorously, but no provisions miraculously appeared. It was appalling, beyond belief. He took out a small mirror and regarded himself very carefully, and then solemnly he nodded. It was none other than himself, his Royal Highness Michael Palanovitch, and this before him was his Honorable Hamper, but like old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, it was entirely bare. It was too much for my sense of humor and from my corner there came a suppressed snort.
“Instantly his Royal Highness grasped the situation and I thought that he was going to grasp me at the same time. I never saw such rage and I immediately became very sober and entirely innocent. He stormed, he raved, I am afraid he swore, though I could not understand all he said. It was a roar of sound and a frazzle of language. He tore at his hair and raged like a caged lion.
“I saw visions of the knout and exile in Siberia. I protested my innocence, and my profound sorrow at the sad state of his larder. I used both language and pantomime. ‘I am an American, Monsieur,’ I cried, ‘I cannot eat anything cooked in Russia, it does not agree with me.’ I protested with such vehemence and with such utter innocence that his Highness finally quieted down, partly from sheer exhaustion, possibly from lack of food.” There was a twinkle in the speaker’s eye, and the boys roared. “When he had become quiet, I, with a low bow, went to the hamper and produced the piece of chicken that was left and presented it to him with much humility.
“His amazement knew no bounds at this performance of mine, and his face showed it. Then his mood suddenly changed, and he burst into homeric laughter. It was so extraordinary, thatit struck him as humorous. Part of the joke being that I was a foreigner, especially an American, of whom anything might be expected. On the basis of this incident he immediately accepted me into a jovial comradeship. Whenever it struck him he would burst into a roar of laughter. So, behold me, when the train finally did stop at a brilliantly lighted station, wherein was a really palatial dining-room, walking arm in arm with his Royal Highness, Archduke Michael, and receiving the salutes of the soldiery and the plaudits of admiring citizens.”
There was a moment’s silence when the engineer had finished his unusual and most entertaining narrative. It seemed to them so vivid had been his story, that instead of being on a ship in the mid-Pacific in the midst of a blustery rainstorm that they were in far-off Russia, and as the tale ended they could see a picture before their eyes.
There was the long train, covered and crusted with snow, standing alongside the station. In the light of large lamps shining brilliantly upon the snow, was the gigantic Russian in his fur coat, arm-in-arm with the slight, dark American. Their steps were directed towards the long dining-room that shone in singular attraction out of the storm and cold. The many round tables set with glowing whiteness and with gleam of silver. The high-backed chairs of some black wood. At one end of the long dining-room a tea urn of huge proportions shining like silver. So the boys sat for some minutes in complete silence, under the spell of the story; then Tom spoke up:
“I should have thought, Mr. Berwick, that you would have been fired out of the carriage at St. Petersburg when his Nibs arrived.”
“It was curious,” admitted the engineer. “I have never quite understood it.”
“I reckon it was your audacity that helped you out,” said Juarez.
“Or, rather helped you in,” remarked the incorrigible Jo.
“I have thought of that, as an explanation,” said Berwick.
“Or, you may have resembled some High Duke or other,” suggested Jim, “and that let you through.”
“I’m greatly flattered,” said Berwick with a slight smile. “That may have been the solution, but I have partially figured that my success was due to the odd character of my Russian friend. I discovered later that he was a Grand Duke, well known in a social rather than a political way and famous for his eccentricities. He spent much of his time in Paris and favored foreigners rather than his own countrymen, so I was probably taken for one of his French cronies. I saw him some years later in Paris, but I did not try to revive the acquaintanceship, but then I was not hungry.” Jowas about to open his mouth to make a pun when Jim interfered.
“Don’t you dare to say anything about being hampered or unhampered,” he warned. The engineer laughed heartily. He liked the boys for their boyish qualities, which were very refreshing to him.
“How did you ever get down to this work?” asked Tom bluntly, “after you had been hobnobbing with Dukes and living in Paris?”
“I do not believe you boys will understand me,” he replied musingly, “it would not be in the nature of things that you should. I did not come down to this work, but up to it. After traveling for a great many years over the world, I got to living a very idle and useless life on the continent. But it palled on me after a while. I was in good health, and had money, but I was tired of myself, thoroughly and entirely bored. By the way, I might illustrate this unpleasant condition of things by a high and mighty example. Did you ever hear of Charles IX. of France?” This was a question the boys were anxious to answer, just to show that they knew something besides roughing it, and to prove their intelligence to the engineer, who in a quiet way always put them on their mettle, but to tell thetruth they were rather rusty on all branches of learning, but Jo and Tom were both fond of history and had read a good deal of it at odd times. Tom was the first to jump into the ring of knowledge, with the four-ounce gloves of information, but ignorance ducked his first wild swing and was thus saved a knockout.
“Oh, yes,” he replied glibly, “Charles IX. was the son of Henry of Navarre.” The engineer shook his head slightly.
“You are away off, Tom,” declared Jo. “His mother was Catherine de Médici and Henri III. was his brother. Maybe he was the nephew or cousin of Henry of Navarre. I wish I had a history here and I would look it up.”
“Partly right and partly wrong, Jo,” said Berwick. “Catherine de Médici was the mother of Charles IX., whose sister, Margaret of Navarre, married Henry of Navarre. But this is the point I want to make. Charles IX. finally got so tired of the pomps and ceremonies of the court after a while that he had a forge fixed up in his palace and there he used to make and hammer out horseshoes. That,” he concluded with a smile, “is why I took up my work. I was tired of useless idleness. There is a constant live interest in this business of runningan engine that I like. Now I must get at it, and good-night to you.”
“Good-night, Mr. Berwick,” replied the boys, and made their way out of the engine-room on to the storm-swept deck, all except Juarez, who stayed to work with the engineer.
The boys separated to their respective duties. Jeems took the boy’s task of stoking, Jim was at the wheel, sending Pete below to the forecastle to take a good sleep. Tom and Jo were detailed to go to their respective cabins and turn in for the night, as the old captain had rather perversely taken it into his head to stand watch on the bridge, though Jim had tried to dissuade him.
“It won’t do your rheumatism any good, Captain,” warned Jim. “It’s mighty wet and cold on the bridge and the wind is rushing fierce.”
“Trying to make me out an old man,” growled the captain, much aggrieved. “I guess I can stand as much as any of you boys. I’ve weathered many a storm in my day.”
“You are tough as a knot yet, Captain,” said Jim soothingly.
So it happened that the captain in his heavy storm coat stood on the bridge, while the rain swished and swirled over the tossing seas, andswept the decks, so that it was much pleasanter in the cabin than abroad, but Jim enjoyed nothing more in sailoring than to be at the wheel a night like this, guiding his craft plunging through the heavy waves in the darkness. There was a fascination about it, the obedience of the ship to the helm, the following of the mysterious guidance of the needle, the standing fixed against the rush of wind and rain, the familiar feeling of the spokes of the wheel, like grasping the bridle reins when riding a spirited horse, all this went to make up Jim’s liking for this work.
Now being anxious for the welfare of Tom and Jo, let us see if they are safely tucked away in their little cribs. We find that they are not, so mischief must be afoot, and it is. It seems that neither Jo nor Tom were in any mood to go to sleep, and their minds were busy with the story that the engineer had told them. They felt a desire to emulate him. So they lay awake and thought what they might do to make life interesting on the ocean wave.
Tom thought of surprising the captain and Jim by making weird sounds back of the cabin on the quarter deck and robing himself in a white sheet at the same time. A most excellent plan indeed, both worthies being such timid characters. ButTom gave up the idea of this surprise for fear the tables might be turned on him and then he would get a taste of the rope’s end for fair, so he had another thought coming.
The idea that came to Jo in the silent night watches was to give Jeems a benefit while he was busy stoking, but there was one difficulty here that it was almost impossible to get down into the hold without being discovered, so that plan had to be given up. Then an inspiration came to Tom.
He got hastily up, and went to Jo’s cabin, which was just forward of his on the main deck. You see there were three cabins on a side; each of the boys had one and the engineer the sixth. Tom did not stop to knock, and slid Jo’s cabin door noiselessly back, but the wakeful Jo heard him.
“Who’s there?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
“Don’t shoot. It’s me, Tom,” replied a low voice.
“Well, Mr. Tom, what are you doing up so early in the morning?” inquired Jo.
“I’ve got a scheme,” said Tom in the low voice of a conspirator. “Let’s surprise old Pete and the boy in the forecastle.”
“It’s dark as a cave down there,” said Jo. “They will be sure to hear us.”
“We will wear our moccasins,” replied Tom, “and there isn’t any bric-a-brac to knock over.”
“I tell you what!” cried Jo, exhilarated by a sudden and brilliant idea. “Let’s rub matches on our faces, when we go down.”
“Same as Jim did when we were in the Hollow Mountain, and he surprised those Hawaiian Priests!” exclaimed Tom. “Gee! but you have got a good head on you, Jo. That’s what we will do.”
“Here’s plenty of matches,” said Jo. “We must be careful and not let them get too damp. Another thing, we will have to look out and not let the Captain see us, or Jim, either, or there will be something brewing.”
“What do you suppose the old gentleman would do to us if he saw us snooping along?” inquired Tom apprehensively, for he stood in much awe of the captain.
“You had better stay in your little crib if you are so alarmed,” remarked Jo.
“I’m ready when you are,” said Tom gruffly.
Then they started moving silently along the deck, though the fierce wind that swept the ship gave them an excellent protection. Still they proceeded very cautiously, keeping close to the galley andthe wall of the engine-room. Just then the shepherd’s dog jumped up from the shelter where he was waiting for his master to come up from below.
He barked furiously at first when he saw the two shadowy forms coming towards him, then Jo spoke to him in a low voice, and the dog, recognizing him, lay down in his dry shelter again. But the captain was on the alert. He came to that side of the quarter deck and looked over.
“I wonder what made that pup break loose like that?” he remarked. “Must have seen something unusual.”
He waited for a short time looking down to the deck below, and the boys, Tom and Jo, directly beneath him, hugged as close to the wall as they could. Then theSea Eaglegave a heavy lurch, and Tom lost his grip, and much terrified, rolled to the bulwarks, in a dark bundle, but fortunately the captain had made up his mind that it was a false alarm and had gone back to the bridge.
Tom lay in the scuppers not daring to move, and imagining that the captain’s baleful eye was glaring down on him from the quarter deck. As Jo would have said if he had dared open his mouth, there would not have been any quarter in spite of the deck, but he was muzzled by circumstances. Another heavy roll heaved the frightened Tom back against Jo, who had a purchase on an iron ring. Jo grabbed him and held on.
“Stay anchored, you idiot,” said Jo in a hoarsewhisper. “You will give us away if you aren’t careful.”
“Can’t help it,” growled Tom. “The old ship rolls so.”
“Now is our chance, come,” whispered Jo.
The next dash brought them to a temporary safe anchorage directly underneath the bridge. So far the practical jokers had rather had it put on them, for they had been badly scared and an occasional wave that came over the bow of theSea Eaglethreatened the two gallant Frontier Boys with a severe ducking.
“Skylarking is all right,” whispered Jo to his comrade in mischief, “but this sealarking is different.”
“If you were going to be hung you would try to pun,” growled Tom.
By stealthy observation they found that there was no chance for them to reach the hood of the forecastle on the forward deck without being seen by the keen-eyed captain.
“Think up some scheme, Jo,” urged Tom, “to distract the old boy’s attention or he will spot us sure.”
Jo thought a minute, then he discovered what he imagined would be a fine scheme.
“You stay here, Tom,” he whispered, and sped back towards the cabin.
“He need not have told me that,” grumbled Tom. “I wouldn’t be apt to stay anywhere else.”
Meanwhile, Jo had reached his cabin, and he hastily pushed the sliding door open and went in. He was not long in getting what he was after. It was a ship’s bell, with a history to it, that he had picked up in Hawaii—the bell, not the history. Holding the clapper tight so that it would not betray him, Jo made his way quickly to the ladder-like stairs leading to the quarter deck and tied it underneath, in such a way that it was sure to ring.
This promised to be a double-barreled joke, and they would be lucky if the recoil did not kick them over. When it was properly fastened Jo let go of it and sped back to Tom. Scarcely had he reached his fellow conspirator than there came the clear metallic ring of a ship’s bell. Weird and uncanny it sounded through the stormy darkness of the night. The old captain could scarcely believe his ears. Then came that startling vibration again.
“By Thundas, what’s that?” he cried.
“It sounded to me like a ship’s bell,” said Jim. “I’d soon find out, if you would take the wheel,sir.” Growling something, the old fellow made in the direction of the sound, and Jo and Tom scudded for the forecastle, which they reached without being discovered.
Meanwhile, the captain had come to the ladder leading from the quarter deck to the main deck, and the tolling came from the darkness, just beneath his feet. There was a strain of superstition in him, as in all sailors, and he had heard yarns of ghostly bells on haunted ships that tolled for the dead about to be. And it shook the old fellow’s nerve. Just then the shepherd’s dog began to howl dismally and this put the seal on matters as far as the captain was concerned.
He could not locate the continued tolling, so he returned to the bridge and reported the fact to Jim, with his own view of the case.
“I don’t wonder at it either, Skipper,” he said in tremulous tones. “This was once a pirate’s ship, and I don’t need to tell you anything about its former captain, Bill Broom. There’s been many a deed of blood done aboard this ship.” Jim felt generally angry, but not at the captain, whom he understood, but he hated to have the ship of which he was fond, given a bad name.
“Take the wheel, sir,” said Jim, “and I’ll findout in a jiffy what’s wrong. If this ship is harboring any ghosts, I’ll fumigate them out.”
“It’s a job for a young man,” replied the captain, taking the wheel. “I wish you good luck, Skipper.”
No sooner did the captain take the helm than Jim strode across the quarter deck in the direction of the tolling sound. It was weird enough to give almost anyone the creeps. Just imagine for yourself how it would be, with that metallic sound coming out of the stormy darkness. Fortunately for him, Jim was not imaginative, and did not see things unless he was shown. He reached the top of the ladder, and the tolling was just beneath his feet. He started down and then something happened.
Let us return to the two desperate characters, to wit: Tom and Jo, whose malign efforts had started all this trouble. When we left them, they were in the steep ladder-way leading down into the forecastle. They stopped there for a minute, panting both with excitement and from the dash they had made. It was as dark as pitch below them, but they could hear the stentorian snore of Pete and the sturdy Irish lad, who did the most of the stoking.
“Give me some more matches, Jo,” whispered Tom.
“Don’t you laugh and give us away,” warned Jo.
Here they proceeded to rub the sulphur on their faces until their countenances took on a ghostly greenish-white hue. Then they crept down the steps into the dark forecastle.
“Who’s that?” cried Pete, who slept with one eye open after the manner of sailors.
The boys gave a deep groan and then Irish roused up. Pete was already wide awake, and aghast at what he saw, two greenish-white faces in the gloom and with audible groans too. At first he was paralyzed, then Irish broke the spell.
“Howly Saints!” he yelled, “it’s the devil!”
Then he sprang from his bunk yelling at every second, and made for the ladder. Pete wasted no breath in yells. He put it into action. When the boy gave his first yell the old sailor likewise jumped for the ladder; no matter if he did have to pass within a few inches of those ghostly ghosts, the fresh air for him.
It was a case of two minds with but a single thought, for old Pete and the boy met at the ladder and then there was a wild scramble. First Pete would start part way up and Irish would pull himdown, then the boy would get up a ways and Pete would yank him deckward and the boy was yelling for help with every breath. It was a regular cat fight and Tom and Jo were weak from suppressed laughter, at the exhibition. It was funny in a way, but those laugh best who laugh last sometimes, as Jo and Tom were likely to find out.
Finally the boy did get out on deck with Pete at his heels, and they ran aft yelling at the tops of their voices.
“Murther!” “Haul in,” according to their different modes of expressions.
“What’s the matter with you wild Indians?” roared the captain from his station at the wheel. “Get below there till you are called.”
It was lucky for them that he was not free to get at them, for the old captain was doubly irritated by their outcry since he had been somewhat nervous himself. Pete and the lad ran aft as though the devil indeed was after them. Jim heard the commotion just as he started down the ladder, and in a jiffy he had collared the runaways.
“Here, shut up!” he yelled, shaking them fiercely. “What’s all this noise about?”
It took a couple of minutes before he could get anything coherent out of them. When he found outwhat they had to tell he started for the forecastle, grabbing a belaying pin on his way. He was thoroughly aroused, and he knew something was wrong, but he could not divine what it was.
“What’s the matter with those boobies?” cried the captain when he saw the tall figure in the darkness making for the forecastle.
“Think they have seen ghosts,” yelled Jim, “as near as I can make out, dreaming, I guess.”
“I’d give ’em something to dream about if I could lay hands on them,” said the captain. Jim laughed and strode to the hood of the forecastle.
Now let us see what had become of the two practical jokers. It looked very much as though they were trapped and the joke had turned out more seriously than they expected, as is often the case, and they knew it would go hard with them when they were captured.
“We have got to hide,” cried Jo, “those idiots have roused the whole ship. I didn’t think they would act like that.”
“We will probably be keel-hauled for this,” said Tom. “Where are you going to hide, Jo?”
“Don’t know, but we have got to hide somewhere, and soon, too.”
Jo was more daring than Tom, and he made adash for the deck with the hope that he would be able to get back to his cabin and be innocently asleep when an investigation should be made, but no sooner did he get out than he saw that all retreat was cut off, for he could dimly see Jim’s form coming along the passageway. He hesitated for a second undecided which way to turn, then he crouched quickly in the direction of the bow. It had come to him like an inspiration. There was a covered cubby hole roofed over, where old chains and such things were kept, in the bow.