CHAPTER II
JERRY SMITH, QUARTERMASTER
"How's she coming? It's 'most noon, Mart."
"Huh? Oh, she's great. I can't find anything wrong, except a littlerust. I'll take a look at that transmitting jigger and send out a flash,I guess."
"What's the transmitting jigger?"
"This--the oscillation transformer. It transfers the primary circuitenergy, which has low potential, to the aerial circuit, where it reachesa mighty high potential at the free insulated end--"
"Hey! What d'you think I am--a walking 'cyclopaedia?" broke in Bobindignantly. "Cut out that high-flown talk with me, Mart, and get downto where I can collect on you. Going to send a message?"
"Golly, no!" returned Mart, busily, adjusting his current. "We'd havethe port officers down on us in a jiffy. It's all right to pick upmessages, but to do any private monkey-work by sendin' them is liable toget a fellow in bad. No, I'm just going to see that the sparker'sworkin' right--"
"Never mind a technical description," broke in Bob. "Just go ahead andI'll be satisfied to watch. But when you get through, there's some stuffdown in the cabin that you might like to look over."
"All right," grunted the other, pressing down his key. The blue sparkleaped out for a long moment, but Mart was careful not to break it, andwith a satisfied nod he threw off the current. The _Seamew's_ wireless,in spite of a year of disuse, was in splendid shape; like other merchantship stations of modern type, it was almost perfect in its conveniences.The whole transmitting apparatus, from the generator to the aerialtuning inductance, was in a special silence cabinet; this not only keptthe noise of the spark and generator down, but shut off all high-tensionapparatus from the operator. Mart explained this at some length to hischum.
"It's strictly fool-proof, so I'll give you some lessons when we get outin the ocean," he grinned. "We can send messages all we please there,but not in port."
"Well, you come along down to the cabin," returned Bob ungraciously. Hehad no knowledge of things mechanical, and no liking for them. Histastes ran to athletics, and by careful cultivation of his body he hadmade himself the physical equal, or nearly so, of Mart Judson, whosestrength and alertness were entirely natural.
Leaving the wireless house, which was on the upper bridge deck justabaft the chart house and signal locker, the two boys slid down theladders to the lower deck. Cases of provisions and supplies were beingslung down the fore hold by the steam winch, and except for the twomates and a couple of wharf hands, no one was in sight. The engine-roomcrew was aboard, together with the Chinese steward, but the crew of adozen men would not come aboard until the next night.
Indeed, the principal use for a crew aboard the _Seamew_ was to keep thebrasswork polished and the decks holystoned, it seemed to Mart.Everything was done by steam-power; while the wheel-house had a helm,the steam steering-gear was used entirely, the anchor was worked bysteam, and the boats and launch carried on the bridge deck could beswung out by the same power.
"What's waiting for us?" queried Mart as they turned to the aftercompanionway leading to the cabins.
"You come along and see," returned Bob Hollinger mysteriously. "Dad'sgone uptown, so we got the craft to ourselves right now."
Mart followed his friend down into the cabin, then stopped suddenly andcaught his breath. A big mahogany chest stood open at one side, and onthe table was laid out an astonishing array of hunting supplies. Therewere guns of every conceivable size and shape, it seemed to him. Hepicked up the first to hand and examined it, while Bob excitedlyexplained.
"That's a Mannlicher-Schoener. It's dad's favorite for big game, Mart."
"Huh!" exclaimed Mart critically. "She ain't much bigger'n the oldtwenty-two I used to have, Holly. I'll eat all the big game your dadever shoots with that gun!"
"Don't you believe it! That's the Austrian army gun--she's atwo-fifty-six caliber cordite, hasn't any kick to speak of, and they useit on elephants in Africa. Why, she'll kill at a mile, Mart!"
"Mebbe," and Mart doubtfully laid the weapon down. "You'll have to showme first, though. Whew! this looks like a regular hardware shop! That'sa beaut of a shotgun."
While it hardly seemed possible that the Austrian gun could be all Bobsaid, Mart knew that his chum was well posted. However, there were gunsof all sizes and kinds, from target rifles to heavy twenty-gauge Parkershotguns, as well as four ugly-looking automatic pistols. Besides thesethere were half a dozen long hunting-knives, bandoliers, belts, andother articles of equipment.
"Dad sent down his whole outfit," explained Bob gleefully. "We're likelyto get a chance for some fine shooting on the voyage. But say! Come inhere a minute! This'll make you sit up, sure!"
He hastily led his chum into the smoking-room beyond. A largepacking-case stood on the floor, and on the table was a small butcomplete moving-picture machine, at sight of which Mart gave a yell ofdelight.
"By golly!" he cried, examining it. "It's one o' those English things,Holly--I was reading about it last week! You take 'em around with youand--why, she's a wonder! No bigger'n a camera, either!"
In fact, the whole machine was no larger than a good-sized camera, andMart decided on the spot that he would be moving-picture operator. Itwas Captain Hollinger's intention to take pictures of Kuala Besut, ofhis prospective gold-concession, of the whole vicinity, and of his tigerhunts if possible, and the two boys were wild over the prospect.Suddenly Mart turned as a quiet voice broke in from behind.
"Hm--hm--beg pardon, gentlemen!"
A stoop-shouldered, gentle-faced old man stood in the doorway, cap inhand. He had very watery blue eyes, his expression was mild in theextreme, and long white hair fell on his shoulders; but for his tanned,leathery skin, Mart would have taken him for an old clerk in a bank.
"Yes?" inquired Bob. "You wanted someone here?"
"Why, I was looking for the cap'n," said the old man. His voice wassoft, but carried far. "My name's Smith, Jerry Smith, quartermaster."
"Oh, you're the Jerry Smith that's to sail with us!" Bob spoke in nolittle astonishment, for the old man looked anything but a tarry sailor."Why, dad's gone uptown for the afternoon, Mr. Smith. I'm Bob Hollinger,and this is Mart Judson, who goes with us."
"Pleased, gentlemen," and the other jerked his head slightly, gazingaround with mild interest. "That's a sight o' hardware, here in the maincabin. My stars! Is the cap'n going to shoot all those weapons, youngsir?"
"Well, he hopes to," grinned Mart easily, shoving back the mop of blackhair from his brow. "Going to take moving pictures, too. I'm thewireless operator."
"Eh?" Jerry Smith looked astonished. "Why, young sir, that issurprising! I did not know we--we were going to have a wirelessoperator!" His watery eyes blinked a little, and his soft voice droppedto a deeper tone. "Well, well! And I was just about your age, I imagine,when I first put to sea!"
Mart hoped for a moment that the old man was going to spin a yarn, butinstead he only heaved a sigh and mopped at his nose with a hugebandanna.
"Well," he said to Bob, "I'm sorry to miss your father, young sir. Andwould you please to tell him that the crew'll come aboard to-morrownight, and that I'll be aboard afore then with the papers? I'll have tosign on as quartermaster, you know, and the cap'n--"
"Eh?" Bob struck in with a frown. "Why, you're going as a guest, Mr.Smith! Dad doesn't want you to sign on at all."
"Just Jerry, if you please!" the old man smiled quietly. "Jerry is myhandle, young sirs, just Jerry. About signing on, now. I've never put tosea yet, young sirs, but what I've been entered shipshape and Bristolfashion, and I'm not going to start wrong at this time o' life. I wantto be on the ship's articles as quartermaster, that's all--that's all. Igot my discharges all proper, and if we should lose an officer, I've gota first officer's ticket. I don't want any wages, young sirs, but I wantto be signed on all shipshape. It'll make me feel a sight better. You'lltell the cap'n that?"
"Why, sure!" returned Bob heartily. "And I'm glad to meet you, Jerry.You'd better keep in mind that I'
m Bob, or Holly--either one hits theright spot--and I don't like that 'young sir' business."
"Nor me," put in the gray-eyed boy, stepping forward with his hand out."I'm plain Mart, without any Mister either, Jerry, and I'm glad to meetup with you."
The three shook hands. Mart noted that old Jerry had a very strong chinand a tight-lipped mouth, for all his gentle appearance, and his handswere very gnarled and knotted. His dress was old and weatherstained, buthad nothing of the sailor in it. Mart had seen enough of sailors alongthe waterfront, however, to know that clothes do not count in suchcases.
With a final duck of his head, Jerry Smith turned and shuffled away.
"Well, what d'you think o' that!" Bob stared at his chum as thestoop-shouldered figure vanished up the companion. "Pirate! Say, do youreckon he ever saw a pirate ship? I guess dad has things twisted abouthim, eh?"
"I'm not so sure," returned Mart slowly, thinking of that firm chin andknotted hand. "I'm not so sure, Holly. You can't go by what you read inbooks, always. Sure, I know he's a nice old fellow, but he's a queerfish just the same. And as for bein' a pirate, there's that man Morris,who's workin' on the _Tribune_ now as city editor. He's as quiet andnice as you ever see 'em, but they say he's been all kinds of things.That shows you, Holly, that you can't go by looks."
"Anyhow, I guess he's reformed by now," stated Bob decisively. "Andpirating is out of date these days. He's only an interesting character,as the books say."
"He sure is," agreed Mart promptly. "Say, Holly, we're going to have awhopper of a time in the next month or so, ain't we?"
Bob grinned happily. "You're dead right, old boy! Say, it's noon--"
"By golly, that's right! When do we eat? I'm some empty."
"Right now. Ah Sing has the grub ready, I guess. Hike along, youpirate!"
And Mart hiked with a wide grin.