CHAPTER VI
THE FAR SEAS
Honolulu Bay, with its beautiful shores and white houses with red roofs,faded out behind the _Seamew_ one sunny morning, and the two boys, up inthe chart house with the captain, began to see wild visions of what laybefore them. Taking a chart, Captain Hollinger traced out their futurecourse across the Pacific.
"You see, boys, we can take a straight course east-south-east from theIslands. That brings us here, to the Philippines, but we'll not stop.Going right ahead under Mindanao, we'll round up into the Sulu Sea andcut through Balabac Straits, north of Bornea. That brings us in amongthe coral reefs--see how thick they're marked on the chart?--and sostraight across the south China Sea to Tringanu."
"And this here's Kuala Besut, eh?" Mart placed his finger on the Malaycoast, just inside the Redang Islands.
"Right you are, Mart! You see how the coast is low all along there, withlagoons? Wait a minute--here's a larger chart."
Bringing out another chart showing the Malay coasts, the captain pointedto the river mouth in question.
"You see, there's a lagoon inside the entrance, about nine miles long,and closed in from the sea by this island. Jerry says that the lagoonmakes a fine harbor, and is deep enough for the yacht. There are nohills close to the coast, but there's plenty of jungle, and we'll findsome tigers without trouble."
"Sure?" asked Bob skeptically. His father laughed.
"Why, until late years they used to shoot them down at the city ofSingapore itself! I'll take a trip in first, to make sure it'll be allright for you to come along, and while I'm gone you can take care of theyacht. Then we'll make up a grand hunting party, and everybody will geta tiger, eh?"
"Bully!" exclaimed Mart eagerly, and departed to his wireless with asheaf of messages to be sent off via Honolulu. Having sent them andarranged for answers to be sent at two o'clock that afternoon, herejoined Bob and went down to mess.
That afternoon they gained their last sight of land for many days, asthe _Seamew_ entered the Kamukahi Channel, passing between thegreen-clad hills of Niihau and Kauai, and then struck out on herstraight course for the southernmost of the Philippines, with nearlyfive thousand miles of sea before her and seventeen days of journeying,if all went well.
For two days all went well, indeed, and then came on what LiverpoolPeters described as a moderate gale, but which seemed like a hurricaneto Mart. They had had fine weather so far, and Mart had long agodismissed all thoughts of seasickness, but now he gave up completely.Bob had long since been seasoned, of course, and poor Mart sufferedalone for three terrible days.
On the third day he felt sure that he was dying, but when Bob came downto the stateroom and grinningly offered him a big chunk of raw fat pork,Mart forgot his symptoms suddenly. Flinging himself out, he caught histormentor and bore him to the floor. Bob rose with a bleeding nose,wiped the pork from his face, and fled; and Mart found that he hadrecovered his health suddenly. After a good meal he was himself again,and the two boys were too firm in friendship to be shaken by agood-humored "scrap" of such a nature.
Then ensued such days as Mart Judson had never dreamed of, when they gotinto the doldrums, the powerful engines of the yacht forcing her aheadat a steady fifteen knots through calm and glassy waters. The sun wastremendously hot, of course, but the yacht's motion created a perpetualbreeze, while her awnings kept the bridge and lower decks cool.
They were far out of the course of steamers, and saw no craft of anykind, save fleets of "Portuguese men-o'-war," as Joe Swanson and theothers called the jellyfish squadrons. Indeed, there was no lack of sealife all about them. Mart ate fried flying-fish for the first time inhis life, and one day the Kanakas on watch set up a yell of "Shark! Himshark!"
All hands rushed out on deck for the fun. Getting in the extreme stern,Mart and Bob thrilled at sight of the dorsal fin cutting the watertwenty feet astern, while the shark could plainly be seen gobbling therefuse which the cook had just flung out from the galley. His long,dirty-white body was anything but pleasant, and when he turned over tocatch a morsel and his V-shaped mouth became evident, Mart felt arepulsion that was little short of fear.
The whole crew came aft in high glee, while "Liverpool" Peters, thesecond officer, bore an immense hook made fast to a line. Having baitedthe hook with a lump of pork, he flung it over the rail; the boys cranedforward eagerly, and an instant later they saw the floating pork vanishin the maw of the shark.
"Pull!" yelled Peters, and the men made fast to the line. Then ensued anhour of the wildest excitement, for the shark fought gamely, but hecould not bite through the big steel shank of the hook, and was finallydrawn alongside. Peters finished him with a revolver bullet, and theKanakas dined on roast shark that night.
More than once after that they caught sharks, as well as several of thepilot fish which were continually leaping beneath the bows of the yacht,while the boys managed to get good sport with smaller fish. Best of all,however, was the shooting at porpoises.
Every morning Captain Hollinger would fetch his rifles up to the charthouse, and the boys would join him. There, sitting in their deck chairsbeneath the awnings, they would load up the rifles and sit watching.
Suddenly, leaping out of the sea abruptly, perhaps half a mile off andperhaps fifty feet away, something would break the water. Up would shootthe great dark body, the whole fish darting clear in the air to fallback with hardly a splash, in a graceful curve. When he first saw thesight, Mart could hardly contain himself; the thrill of seeing thatgreat body swirl up into the air in plain sight was wonderful. Over andover again it would be repeated, as the huge fish circled the vessel;then it would vanish as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come.
"But s'pose we wounded 'em?" asked Bob hesitatingly the first morning.
"Nonsense!" laughed the captain, taking a quick shot at one of theflashing bodies a hundred yards away. "In the first place, you're notlikely to score a hit, Bob. In the next place, these are littletwenty-two caliber bullets; unless it happened to penetrate a vitalpart, one of these little pellets won't bother a ten or fifteen-footporpoise. It might sting him a little, if it penetrated his hide, butthat's all. It'll give you the best kind of shooting practice, too."
Reassured by this speech, the two boys pitched in. There was no lack ofammunition aboard the _Seamew_, and there seemed to be no lack ofporpoises anxious to serve as moving targets. And, indeed, Mart soonfound that he need spend no worry over leaving wounded fish to flounderout their lives.
So rapidly did he have to shoot, so quickly did he have to meet theunexpected risings of the porpoises, that it was several days before hecould begin to come anywhere near the mark. Bob did better, having hadmore practice in shooting, and the captain proved himself a past master.But at no time did any thought of cruelty occur to either of the boysagain, since it proved to be exactly as Captain Hollinger had said, andthey saw no sign of dead or wounded fish in their wake.
"I wouldn't mind shooting a shark," declared Mart one morning to hischum. "Do you s'pose one of these rifles would kill one?"
"What--twenty-twos? Not much!" and Bob laughed scornfully. "They canstand an awful lot o' bullets, Mart. I tell you--next time you sight ashark after us, I'll get a couple o' dad's thirty-thirty rifles andwe'll have some real shooting."
Two days after this, indeed, a shark was attracted under their counter,and each boy got a shot at him. What effect the bullets had, they neverknew, for the shark turned and disappeared rapidly. Mart had missed, notallowing for refraction, while Bob's shot had gone true, but they hadlearned their lesson. The next time a shark showed up, they hooked himfirst, then began target-practice with the heavy rifles.
The shark, while having comparative freedom of action, was forced tofollow the ship, and the two boys pumped bullet after bullet, while thecrew cheered or mocked their efforts in impartial criticism. Mart wasamazed to find that after scoring twenty or thirty hits, the shark stillplunged and leaped as strongly as ever, although a red trail was seepingout into the w
ater behind him. Finally Captain Hollinger took a hand inthe game and with three well-placed bullets killed the shark.
"That's enough for me," declared Mart disgustedly putting down hisrifle. "It doesn't give the brute a fair show and it's too much likebutchery. I'm satisfied."
"Here too," nodded Bob, disdaining his father's laughter. "I guess I'llstick to the twenty-twos and porpoises. Too much blood in sharks."
So that, after this, there was no more shooting at sharks. And for thatmatter, something occurred the very next day that served to take theboys' minds off sharks for some time to come.
Up until now there had been no trouble whatever aboard the _Seamew_. Thecrew were paid good wages, and their food was far superior to that ofthe ordinary forecastle galley. The engine-room crew was composed of twoScotch engineers and a gang of Kanakas, and the brown-skinned sailorswere all willing and cheerful workers.
The second mate, however, did not get on well with the men who had beenshipped by old Jerry Smith. Peters was an excellent seaman, and was fareasier on the men than was the first mate, Swanson. Yet Swanson wasobeyed with great alacrity, probably because he did not hesitate tobully the men, while Peters had some difficulty in making the men adoptwhat he considered their proper attitude. With Captain Hollinger therewas of course no trouble whatever.
The day after they had shot the shark, the boys were waiting formess-call, and were looking over some magazines in the library saloon.Suddenly they heard voices in altercation on the deck, and the tramp offeet, while the angry tones of Peters rose deep and vehement.
"Something wrong!" exclaimed Mart, springing to the companionway.
"Hold on," cried Bob hastily, joining him. "Don't get mixed up in anyrow, Mart."
"No danger," chuckled the other. "Hello! By golly, Liverpool's mad forfair!"
And so he was. Looking out the door of the companionway on to thestarboard deck-alley of the yacht, they saw that the awnings were up andthe decks were being holystoned. Outside the door stood a bucket ofwater, a big holystone beside it, while the one-eyed seaman Birch wasjust rising to his feet from the deck. Peters was standing over him, hisface dark.
"Don't go to sleep, there," commanded the mate sharply. "If I catch youagain with a pipe alight aft of the fo'c'sle, you'll get worse thanthat. Move lively!"
Birch wiped his cheek, where the second officer's fist had evidentlylanded, his one eye flamed angrily and his hand dropped to his sheathknife.
"Blast you!" he muttered thickly. "I'll have the law on you--"
Without a word Peters' fist shot out, caught the evil-faced seaman fullon the jaw, and Birch went back with a crash. Peters looked calmly athim as he rose.
"Say 'sir' when you talk to an officer, an' no back talk either,"ordered the mate. "And you get gay with that knife again, Birch, andI'll give you what-for! Now move lively with that work, you lazy dog."
Birch stooped over his holystone, and Peters turned to go forward again.As he did so, Birch straightened up suddenly. Gazing malevolently at thebroad back of the retreating mate, the one-eyed seaman whipped out hissheath knife, a wild spasm of fury contracting his wrinkled face.
Instinctively Mart took a step forward, but Bob caught his arm and heldhim back with a muttered word. Before Birch could move, a shadow fellacross the deck and old Jerry Smith came padding along in his bare feet,his white hair flying in the wind. He caught Birch's arm, and for asecond the two men stared into each other's faces. And when Mart saw thefeatures of old Jerry, he did not wonder that Birch paused, for thequartermaster's face was absolutely livid with mingled fear and anger,while his blue eyes shone out clear and baleful.
"You fool!" muttered Jerry, as Peters disappeared forward. "You fool!"
"Mebbe I'm a fool an' mebbe I ain't," responded Birch sullenly. "But I'mgoin' to git that bucko mate yet, Shark Smith!"
"Stow your jaw and get to work!" snapped Jerry, and passed on like ashadow.
Mart drew back and looked at his chum. Bob's face was white.
"That's no way to treat men," exclaimed Mart softly. "If I was Birch--"
"Oh, shucks--what's the matter with you?" Bob's eyes blazed excitedly."That's nothin'--you've got to handle sailors like that. But did youhear what he said to Jerry? Called him 'Shark Smith'--and Jerry heardhim make threats and said nothing!"
"It's funny discipline," admitted Mart slowly. "But a quartermasterain't an officer, remember. And I don't blame Birch for being mad."
So the incident passed, for indeed it was a mere incident in thesea-routine. Officers are quick to exact instant obedience, and theleast show of rebellion or "back talk" is answered with a blow. But evenso, the evil face of the one-eyed seaman flitted through Mart's dreamsfor many a night thereafter, although Birch seemed doubly respectfultoward the second mate, as indeed did all the crew.