That long night's ride was interesting though tiresome. Ralph tried to count the telegraph poles without understanding much about their uses.

The low, level country, the tall trunks of the pines, the ever present negroes, the sparks from the engine, and the occasional interruptions from the conductor, kept him from sleep until long after midnight.

Finally, however, he coiled himself up on the seat and knew nothing more until some one shook him by the shoulder.

"Is yo' gwine ter stay in yere all day?" asked a voice.

Ralph sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was shining and the car empty, with the exception of himself and a negro brakeman, who had awakened him from an unusually sound slumber.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We'se in Savanny. Been yere nigh 'bout an hour. I seed yo' was tired, an' I 'lowed I'd let yer sleep. But I'se got ter sweep out now."

When Ralph emerged from the depot he found himself on a sandy unpaved street, with many half shabby frame houses about and a number of tall pines in the distance.

He followed a line of trucks and drays towards the business part of the city, and presently dropped into a cheap eating house for breakfast.

After that he began to inquire for the Marshall House, which he found to be a large, red brick hostelry, with a broad second story veranda in front. The sidewalk beneath was sprinkled with chairs partially occupied by men reading their morning papers or smoking.

A few glanced curiously at the roughly dressed boy, who made his way into a large hall and office combined, where trunks and grips were stacked up by the score, and trim porters and waiters were gliding to and fro.

He instantly felt himself out of place amid those well dressed people, and smart servants. It was his first experience with a first class city hotel.

So low did his courage ebb at first that he very nearly made up his mind to retreat without attempting to see Captain Gary. In his unwashed, uncombed condition, the contrast between himself and those around was embarrassing enough even to his crude conception.

He stood gazing about in a half helpless manner, not knowing to whom to apply for information.

"Where can I find Captain Gary?" he asked at length of a porter who happened to be lounging near.

The negro inspected Ralph from head to foot, then demanded: "Do he stop yere?"

"Yes. I have a letter for him."

"Oh! Dat all is it?" The porter had found it hard to reconcile Ralph's appearance with any other connection with a guest of the hotel than a menial one. "Yo' go right up to de office over dar and gin it to the clerk. He see Cap'n Gary gits um."

"But—but I have to see the captain myself," urged Ralph.

"What yo' reckon a gen'lemun like he wanter sech a boy as you? Huh?"

Ralph felt that his clothes were against him, but he did not propose to be bullied by a servant and a negro at that.

"Look here," said he. "I want to see Captain Gary and I'm going to see him, too. I've got business with him—d'ye understand?"

"Well den," replied the porter insolently, "s'posen yo' find where he is yo'self."

Ralph, without another word, marched straight to the clerk's desk.



CHAPTER X.

The Captain Talks With Ralph.

Ralph's previous diffidence disappeared under the flush of anger aroused by the porter's words.

"Mister," said he addressing the stylish looking clerk, who at first barely glanced at the lad, "I was sent here from Columbia to see a man who stops here called Captain Gary. That nigger over there, when I asked him where the man was, told me to hunt him up myself. I never was in your tavern before. How can I find him, I'd like to know?"

Before Ralph had concluded, the clerk was inspecting his person curiously. Ralph again thought of his clothes.

"I don't look very stylish," said he, "and I know it; but I've got business with Captain Gary all the same."

"Front!" called the clerk, without addressing Ralph.

A smart mulatto boy, uniformed in blue and red, sprang from a bench where several others similarly clad were seated.

"Show this—this person to forty nine," directed the clerk, then turned to another inquirer as if he had already forgotten Ralph's existence.

"There's one thing certain," thought the lad, as he followed the call boy down a long hall, up one flight of stairs and into a richly carpeted corridor, "we mountain folks can beat these city dudes on manners, if we can't in anything else."

The boy knocked at a door and a voice almost feminine in musical softness bade them "Come in."

"Some one to see yo', suh," said the messenger, pushing Ralph inside and closing the door.

The mountain youth found himself alone with a slender, exceedingly handsome man, so slight of figure and fair in complexion as to fully bear out in his appearance the womanly resemblance suggested by his voice.

He was dressed in a walking suit of a subdued gray tint, with patent leather gaiters, and his hands were white, while his fingers sparkled with one or two jeweled rings. His linen was spotless and in his lemon colored neck tie shone a large diamond.

He was reclining in an easy chair, smoking a cigarette, and as he languidly surveyed Ralph, the boy felt that here was a sea captain different from those he had read of or imagined.

"Well, my lad, what is it you want of me?" inquired the man.

"My name is Ralph Granger. I have a letter for you from Captain Shard. He said you would understand."

Gary took the missive which Ralph now produced, opened it, and glanced through it carelessly, then extended his hand.

"Glad to see you," said he softly. "So you want to try the sea, eh? Well, any one coming from my cousin Shard is always sure of a welcome from me."

Here he smiled very sweetly and waved his beringed fingers. "Stand more in the light, please. I want to take a good look at you, Ralph."

As he inspected the boy from under his half closed lashes, his eyes shone curiously.

"Now, Ralph," continued he with lazy cordiality, as if he had known the youth for weeks instead of minutes, "what do you know about a sailor's life?"

"I don't know anything, except—except,"—Ralph hesitated.

"Well?" suggested the captain inquiringly, and with an enchanting smile.

"I've read a book or two about sea life and ships, and all that. Outside of that I ain't posted."

"I see. Did you bring any kit along?"

"What's that, sir?"

"Outfit, clothes, baggage, you know."

"I've got a bundle of clothes down at the car shed."

"Ah—yes." The captain reflected a moment.

"My boatswain is to be here at eleven sharp. I guess you had better go aboard with him."

"Go where, sir?"

"Down to the ship. We call it going aboard, you see," and once more Captain Gary smiled with almost infantile amiability. "Been to breakfast? Yes? Well, then, suppose you take a stroll about and see the town. Don't get lost, and be sure and be back by eleven. My room is forty nine; can you recollect that?"

Ralph thought he could, and was about to withdraw when the captain pulled out a silver dollar.

"You may need a little spending money," said he. "Only I hope you won't buy tobacco. Lads of your age, you know, are best without it, and as for cards——"

Ralph hastened to assure him that he not only did not smoke or gamble, but that he had some money of his own.

"Take this, however. We will call it a slight advance on your wages."

The captain insisted so genially that Ralph could not refuse.

"Looks like I've dropped into a soft snap at last," thought he, as he found his way to the street. "I wonder if many ship captains are like him? Them as I have read of were mostly great, big, strapping, swearing sort of fellows, ready to knock a body down when things don't go to suit 'em. Well, I'm glad I've got such an easy going boss to learn a sailor's trade under. I wonder where we will sail to first? I hope it will be a good long voyage where I can see and learn a heap."

After Ralph's departure Captain Gary sank back into his chair and smoked his cigarette out. Then he produced another letter, addressed in the same hand as the one given him by Ralph, and spread them out together on his knees.

"So," said he, half aloud, while certain hard lines appeared on his face that changed its entire expression to one of callous severity, "my good cousin wants me to put this lad through. What is there about the boy that he dislikes? Well, Theodore has done me more than one good turn. What is a lad more or less?"

He stared at the wall before him, disclosing in his now widely open eyes a brightness as of steel, for the feminine softness had vanished utterly. "Tom Bludson will make him wish he had never been born as quickly as even Shard could desire. To make sure, we might leave him behind when we reach the Gold Coast. However, all this can be decided later."

The captain lighted another cigarette, rang for a mint julep, then addressed himself to some writing, the materials for which were scattered about on a table by the window. He wrote several letters, made out some orders and accounts, smoking the while and sipping his julep through a long rye straw from time to time.

At last, promptly on the stroke of eleven, appeared a tall, brawny, mahogany faced seaman, clad in blue flannels of a nautical cut. This personage pulled off a round, flat, visorless cap, and made a half military salute upon entering in obedience to the captain's summons.

"That you, Ralph?" said the latter softly but without looking up. "That's right. Always be prompt, and you will be—a—hello!" raising his eyes. "What the dev—oh! It's you, is it, Tom?"

"Me it are, sir," replied the tall sailor, again ducking his head. "I was to report at 'leven—shore time."

"I thought it was that cursed boy," returned the captain in a sharp, quick tone, totally unlike the soothing drawl he had used in addressing Ralph. "Where can he be, I wonder?"

The boatswain, comprehending that the captain was making inquiry rather of himself than his auditor, remained discreetly silent, merely availing himself of a chance to throw a tremendous quid of "navy" into the fireplace.

"I want you to take him on board, Tom," added Gary, turning round. "You must see him stowed before I go down."

"Where will I find him, sir?"

"The deuce only knows. I told him to take a run round, but to show up at eleven. He is a thorough backwoods rooster and he may have got lost. Suppose you take a turn round the square and look him up. Don't be gone long. I have stores yet to go down by tug."

"Aye, aye, sir," quoth Bludson, and promptly vanished.

The captain had hardly buried himself in his accounts again, before the boatswain reappeared, holding Ralph by the collar. The lad had resisted at first, but found himself helpless in the grasp of the gigantic seaman and now ceased his struggles, though his face was red with vexation.

"Be this the chap?" asked Tom.

"Yes; you may turn him loose, however."

The captain's teeth shone very white, so broad was the smile with which he strove to conceal the scowl that had at first mantled his brow at sight of Ralph.

"My boy," continued he, "you will not feel hurt when I tell you that punctuality is one of the first requisites of success in the calling you have chosen."

"I lost my way for a little while," began Ralph, but the captain signified that the tardiness was pardoned already.

"You see we sail tonight on the flood," he added, "and we have yet much to do. This is our boatswain or bos'n—as we call them—Mr. Bludson. He will accompany you to the ship. Perhaps you will not mind assisting him a little in seeing to some stores that are yet to go down. Tom, you must be careful of young Granger. We already take a great interest in his welfare."

Tom looked puzzled at first, but when the captain smiled once more he seemed relieved. Evidently he understood that smile.

Ralph thought he did too, and he again felt that he was lucky in having so kind hearted a captain.

After that Gary and Bludson conferred together over matters concerning the ship, while Ralph twirled his cap and placed his bundle beside him on the carpet. Some fifteen minutes might have thus passed, then the boatswain straightened up, thrust some papers the captain had given him into his hip pocket, and turned to the door.

"Now, youngster," said he, "we'll get sail."

"Stay with Bludson, Ralph," called the captain, waving his hand gracefully; "he will see you through in fine shape."

"Aye, aye. I warrant I see him through," echoed the boatswain hoarsely as the two went out.

In Ralph's opinion the captain was much more agreeable and "well mannered" than his subordinate. In the hall below they encountered a heavy set, bushy bearded man in navy blue, at sight of whom Bludson touched his cap. The man looked so sharply at Ralph that the boy inquired:

"Who is that, Mr. Bludson?"

"That's our first mate, and a rare un he is, too."

"A rare one. What do you mean by that?"

"Oh! You'll find out soon enough. Best not ask too many questions. Howsever, I'll give ye one bit of advice, as is worth a heap to landsmen aboard ship, and it shan't cost 'e a cent. That is keep your eyes peeled and your tongue betwixt your teeth. That's the way to larn and keep a whole skin."

All this was rather enigmatical, but Ralph understood that he was not to ask any questions.

After that Mr. Bludson maintained a dignified silence as he plunged, with Ralph at his side, into the regions of the wholesale trade. They called at several grocery and provision stores, and also at a ship chandler's. The boatswain had sundry talks with sundry clerks and some drays were loaded.

Finally the two emerged upon the river front where lay, among other craft, a steam tug with a gang plank ashore. Tom pulled off his coat and gave it to Ralph, saying:

"Climb aboard with this, then come back and bear a hand."

The lad ran down the plank and deposited the boatswain's jacket and his bundle in the helmsman's closet, then made his way back and took hold of the incoming freight with a will.

In half an hour the stores were on board, and the tug, casting loose, began to steam swiftly down the river.

It being Ralph's first experience afloat, the swift, gliding motion and the noisy engine interested him greatly. The novelty was, in its way, as exciting as his first car ride.

"What is it makes things go?" he asked of Bludson, who was sprawled upon a coil of cable, smoking a short black pipe.

"The ingine and the propeller, ye lubber," replied the latter. "Did 'e think it was wings?"

"But what is a propeller?"

"Ah! The ign'erance of land folks! It do beat all. The propeller—why the propeller is a propeller, of course. What else did 'e think it were."

"I know, but——"

"Now look here, youngster. Watching is one thing and always wanting to know is another. Stow your gaff, as I said afore, and use your peepers."

After this rebuff Ralph asked no more questions of his superior, but he faithfully obeyed the injunction as to "keeping a bright lookout."



CHAPTER XI.

Aboard the Curlew.

They steamed along between low marshy banks for an hour or two, then the river began to widen into an irregularly shaped bay. Sundry low lying islands, covered with strange semi-tropic vegetation, rose up seaward, and by and by a sound as of muffled thunder could be heard.

As they passed old Fort Pulaski, Ralph ventured to question the pilot on the roof. This grizzled boatman was gruff, but obliging.

"It's the roar of the breakers, you hear," said he. "That is an old fort. Good for a siege once—no good now. And yonder—do you see that low lying, black schooner under the lee of Tybee light?"

"Where?" inquired Ralph, leaning out of the little pilot house window.

The pilot pointed, but it was quite a minute before the boy could distinguish the vessel. When he did, all his unaccustomed eye could make out, was a narrow dark line surmounted by a dim tracery of spars that were barely relieved by the white beach behind.

Still further beyond rose the towering white lighthouse.

"I believe I do see it," he said at length.

"Well, that's the Curlew. She's a daisy on the wind, or for that matter sailing free either. There ain't a sweeter looking fore-an-after on this coast."

"Is that Captain Gary's ship?" asked Ralph, for he had not heard the name of the vessel mentioned before.

"Well, you are an ignoramus. Don't know the name of the craft you're shipping on."

The old pilot looked disgusted. "Where'd you get your trainin'?"

When Ralph explained that this was his first sight of salt water, and that he had seen the captain for the first time that morning, the pilot shook his grizzled head doubtfully.

"Captain Gary is a deep one, that's what he is. He was mighty milk and watery, wasn't he? I thought so. Know where you're bound for?"

Ralph had not the least idea, but felt no uneasiness, as the captain was so kind; had treated him almost like a son.

"Did eh! Well, now see here. It's none of my business, but I believe in a fair shake." The pilot glanced round and noticing the boatswain sauntering toward them, he bent forward and concluded in an undertone: "When you get aboard and out to sea, you keep your eyes open and watch out for squalls. D'ye hear. Watch out for squalls."

The boy heard but did not understand. The pilot's manner, however, impressed him as unusual. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as the old man, after a knowing wink or two, fixed his eyes upon the course he was steering, and thereafter ignored Ralph's presence entirely.

Bludson cast a searching glance at them both, then ordered Ralph to go below and bring up his coat. The lad obeyed and when he returned, the tug had forged past an island headland, disclosing to them a fine view of the open ocean.

Ralph uttered an exclamation of wonder, and for five minutes or more he leaned against the guard rail, feasting his eyes on the heaving expanse of blue, foam dotted water near the inlet, where the rollers were breaking upon the bar.

"It's the greatest sight I ever saw," he said turning to Bludson, who merely grunted. "How blue it looks! I suppose those changing lines of white are the breakers. Well, well! This beats the mountains. I wish I was out there right now."

"You'd be wishing yourself ashore soon," returned Tom apathetically. "Wait till 'e gets seasick."

"What is that? Does the sea make you sick?"

"I should say it do. But there's a mighty fine cure for all that. Aye, 'tis a bracin', healthful cure."

"Tell me, Mr. Bludson. You know I might get seasick, too."

"Ye be bound to. Then cap'n 'e'll say lay forrid there and trice up that fo'topmast stays'l brace; and there you is first 'e know fifty feet above the fo' s'l boom, a takin' a good look of an hour or so at old Neptune. Well, if that don't fetch 'e all right, cap'n 'e'll say 'Reeve a slip knot under his arms' which, no sooner done than overboard you goes for a dip or two. That always brings 'em round."

"Looks like a queer way to cure a sick man," commented Ralph, who but half comprehended the boatswain's lingo.

"It beats the doctor though all the same," said Tom with rather a heartless grin. "But look round. What do 'e think of the Curlew now? Ain't she a beauty?"

The tug had got near enough to enable the proportions of the vessel to be seen quite distinctly.

Even to Ralph she was a graceful and pleasing sight. The long, low, black hull exhibited curves as perfect as the flowing sweep of a rainbow. The tall mast, the tapering tracery of spars, the snowy canvas and the general trim and orderly air maintained, were all attractive to the eye.

In a brief time, the tug was lying alongside and the stores transferred to the schooner's hold in short order. A dozen or more catlike sailors assisted the crew of the tug, and Ralph made himself useful.

When the tug sheered off, the boy leaning over the side of the schooner, beheld the pilot shake his head in a doubtful way as he answered Ralph's farewell wave of the hand.

"So I must look out for squalls, must I?" he reflected. "I wonder what the man meant. Never mind. I am young, stout, and I'm not afraid. So I guess I won't worry. So nice a man as Captain Gary won't see a boy put upon, I know."

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

"Come now! We don't want no idlin' or staring over the side on this craft. Come along and stow your kit and sling your hammock. Then we'll eat a bite—you and me."

Thus roused, he followed Tom Bludson into the forecastle, where a low but roomy apartment was lighted both by a swinging lamp and the daylight streaming through the narrow companionway. There was a double row of bunks on either hand and overhead were hooks to swing hammocks in the space between.

Bludson unslung a hammock from the wall and tossed it to Ralph. There was a blanket inside.

"Wrap your clothes in that blanket and give the hammock a turn or two—so." The boatswain accompanied his words by showing Ralph how a hammock is folded and slung to the hooks overhead when not in use.

"Now," he added, "it's stowed for the day. When bedtime comes you must unsling and hang it as the rest do. You see there's not enough bunks for the crew, so some has to use hammocks."

After that Tom led the way to the cook's galley, a mere closet of a place just abaft the foremast. In entering one went down two or three steps. Here they found Neb (short for Nebraska), the cook, a short, fat jolly looking negro, who with his stove and cooking utensils so completely filled up the place that Ralph was puzzled to see how the man ever managed to cook at all. Every bit of space was utilized, however. There were drawers and lockers under shelves and tables, while overhead were swinging racks for dishes and provisions.

"Hi, Marse Tom, who be dat yo' got dar? One er dese yere shore kids?"

"Yes, he's a shore kid, Neb. Him and me haven't had any dinner. Can't you shake us up a bit of something. Salt horse and skilly will do, if nothin' else is handy."

Neb was acquiescent and the boatswain and his charge were soon discussing a hearty meal with molasses, vinegar and water for a beverage instead of coffee.

After that Bludson took Ralph aft and introduced him to the second mate, Mr. Duff, a slim, active, pleasant looking young man of four and twenty, who was superintending the coiling of a spare cable in a cuddy hole beneath the wheel.

"New boy, eh," said he, giving Ralph a brief but keen inspection. "I thought the captain swore that he wanted no more boys, after Bunty gave him the slip."

Bunty, Ralph afterward learned, had run away at a foreign port with a small sum of money not his own.

"Cap'n's changed his mind then, sir," returned Tom, "He said as 'e wanted p'tickler care taken of this kid, and he was to wait in the cabin till 'e gets his sea legs on so to speak."

"What' your name?" To Ralph, then turning to the men: "Easy there. Lay her even, can't you."

Ralph replied and Bludson added:

"Blest if the kid's ever seen the ocean before. He don't know a brace from a marlin spike."

"I can learn, I reckon," said Ralph so heartily that Mr. Duff took a second look at the boy, then smiled to himself.

"Run down to the cabin and fetch me up the doctor," said the mate. "Yon's the way."

He pointed towards the companionway.

Ralph, somewhat puzzled, started down, but fancied he heard a sound of smothered laughter as he passed from sight.

"They're making fun of me," thought he. "I don't believe there is any doctor here."

The two men having finished with the cable went forward, just as Ralph reappeared bearing a box of patent pills he had found below.

"That's the nearest thing to a doctor I could find," said he.

The mate roared with laughter, while Long Tom grinned broadly, and the sailors snickered.

"I guess you'll do, my lad," exclaimed Mr. Duff in high good humor. "Come with me and I will show you what the doctor is. Bludson, have that peak block on the foresail gaff slung a little higher. I think she will hoist easier."

"Aye, aye, sir," returned the boatswain, while Ralph, following the mate, again descended to the cabin.

The cabin was roomy, well carpeted, and contained a stationary table through the center of which ran the mainmast of the schooner. At the stern were two staterooms; one for the captain and the other for the two mates. Lockers and drawers were scattered about, and a mirror with a picture or two was attached to the walls.

On a cushioned seat at one side lay a large white cat.

"That's Doctor," said the mate. "He's a great pet, and while you are aft you must see that he wants for nothing."

The mate showed Ralph a small closet where were sundry brooms, brushes and other implements for cleaning up.

"As you are to be cabin boy, for a while at least," said Mr. Duff, "you might as well begin by tidying up the cabin a bit. We want to have things shipshape by the time the captain comes aboard."

For an hour or so Ralph busied himself accordingly, until a commotion on deck led him to look out at one of the stateroom windows.



CHAPTER XII.

The Curlew Puts to Sea.

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!"



CHAPTER XIII.

A Taste of Ship's Discipline.

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!"



CHAPTER XIV.

Bad Weather.

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?"



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.



CHAPTER XV.

Boarded by a Cruiser.

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."



CHAPTER XVI.

Nearing the Gold Coast.

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.



CHAPTER XVII.

Up the River.

The Wanderer lay in a small, land locked harbor, densely surrounded by a strange and wonderful growth of forest, that completely concealed the shore behind.

Near by, though hidden beyond a neck of land, one could hear the roar of breakers. At the opposite extremity, the harbor was elongated, as if some stream were entering beneath a giant growth of overhanging foliage.

The little bay was no more than a quarter of a mile across, nor was there any sign of human presence other than that presented by the schooner and her crew. She was anchored mid-stream, and Ralph could perceive a sluggish, muddy current making towards an inlet that was partially concealed by several small islets, densely covered by mangroves.

"Granger, I want you," said the second mate from the quarter deck. "Take three hands and make ready the ship's yawl alongside."

In obedience to this, Ralph, with the requisite aid, soon had the large boat that rested amid-ships, swinging by a painter to the schooner's side. Mr. Duff then directed two pair of oars, a keg of water and some cooked provisions and bedding to be placed aboard.

"I want you, Ralph, and you, Ben, to go along."

The Ben to whom the mate alluded was a broadfaced Englishman, who had been the spokesman on the occasion when Gary had made known to the crew the object and destination of his voyage. He had expressed himself once or twice since then unfavorably, to his mates, and had been rebuked by Long Tom in consequence.

Duff disappeared below, but soon returned with three Winchester rifles and the same number of cutlasses. He handed one of each to the other two, saying to Ralph:

"I guess you can shoot, can't you? I hear you mountaineers are hard to beat with a long rifle."

"I can shoot a squirrel's head off with grandfather's old gun four times out of five. But this here short, double barreled thing don't look good for much."

Duff laughed, then briefly explained the purpose of the magazine and showed him how to work the mechanism. Ralph, though still dubious, said nothing, and resolved to test for himself the wonderful qualities of the modern breech loader, which the average mountaineer distrusts in proportion to his ignorance.

The boy noticed that the most of the crew, together with the captain and first mate, were absent. Only Bludson, with three or four sailors, were left on board, after Duff and his boatmen were pulling towards the mouth of the river above.

"Now, lads," said Long Tom, "look alive. We've got to get the hold ready against cap'n gets back with the first batch. We're rid of the squeamish ones, I reckon. 'Fore they come in with their meat we'll be loaded; that is, s'posin' they show up in time."

The boatswain grinned in a knowing, mirthless way, that his assistants seemed to understand, for they responded in kind. The main hatch was then opened and an iron grating substituted.

Between the main hold and the cabin was a strong bulkhead with a double door, strongly barred and padlocked. This was thrown open and a four pound howitzer mounted in the gangway in such a manner that when the upper half of the door was thrown open, the gun could rake the hold from end to end.

Water butts were set up where water could be handed inside by the bucket. From store rooms on either side of the gangway, long chains with short fetters attached at intervals were brought out and stretched across the hold about seven feet apart and about a foot from the floor. Ankle cuffs that closed with spring locks were attached to these fetters.

In these storerooms were placed the barrels of provisions that had deceived the lieutenant. Then Bludson and his assistants passed the next few hours in throwing overboard the ballast that had been stowed at Tybee Island in far away America.

Meanwhile Duff and his companions entered the river, which seemed to be a small stream flowing deviously through a low, half swampy region, where insects swarmed and many kinds of strange animals and bird life were to be seen.

Ralph, to try his Winchester, shot at a blue heron on the wing and made the feathers fly.

"Try it again," urged Duff sharply. "Quick now."

A second shot brought down the bird, and Ralph's opinion of breech loaders was raised at once.

For several hours they pulled up stream, the mate taking his turn at the oars with the others. The trees rose to a gigantic height, while the interlacing undergrowth was at some places impenetrable.

About eleven they halted, mooring the boat to a fallen tree half imbedded in the water. Deep shadows from the overhanging foliage screened them from the now scorching sunlight. After a lunch on dried beef and biscuit, the mate suggested a siesta for an hour or two until it should be cool enough to proceed. Ralph volunteered to keep watch, though there did not seem to be much necessity for vigilance. The whole vast forest and all life within its folds appeared to be steeped in tropical midday repose.

"Well," said the mate, as he and Ben bestowed themselves in the bottom of the boat on some blankets, "if you get too sleepy call Ben. We'll have to cover our heads on account of these wretched gnats and mosquitos."

While the two slumbered, Ralph amused himself at first by examining the mechanism of his Winchester. Tiring of this he fell into a reverie so deep that he hardly realized that he was dozing until roused to wakefulness by a slight pressure upon his hat, which was pulled forward over his eyes.

His first impulse was to start up, but a long, skeleton leg with tiny claws at the end—horribly hairy in a miniature way—slowly protruded over the front brim of his headgear, sending a curdling chill through his veins as he wondered what kind of a creature its owner might be.

Thoughts of the strange, poisonous insects of abnormal size, which he had read of as being common in certain warm countries, coursed through his mind. If he stirred, the thing might claw or bite, and the merest scratch was said, in some kinds of these venomous species, to be fatal.

He dared not move, but lay there in a sort of physical coma, though with every nerve strung to the point of agonized apprehension.

After feeling first with one claw, then another, the creature began to descend. The first touch upon his face was indescribably loathsome to Ralph, and as its round, egg-like body came in view, he closed his eyes and held his breath.

Down to his breast the thing crawled, while the skin of his face prickled sharply under an imaginary pain. Then he opened his eyes and beheld a gigantic spider slowly making its way down his clothing.

With a body quite as large as the egg of a hen, and legs in proportion, it moved slowly, in a groping manner, as if uncertain of its whereabouts. Ralph fancied he could see its dull, cruel eyes. He lay as if dead, until the thing had left his person, then recovered his breath and courage by a vigorous inhalation.

But upon his first move the creature ran along the bottom of the boat with extraordinary rapidity, and thence along Ben's blanket and body, pausing only as it reached the sailor's now uncovered head.

There it seemed to look back at Ralph, who did not dare attempt to kill it, lest it should attack Ben. To his horror the sailor stirred and opened his eyes drowsily.

"Ben," whispered Ralph, "for goodness sake don't move, as you value your life. Do as I tell you. It—it may bite you, if you stir."

Ben felt the creature as the boy had done. He lay shivering.

Slowly the great insect turned and made its way from the sailor's neck to the flooring, then up the side of the boat. Ralph, seizing a rope's end, struck a furious blow, but missed. With lightning-like speed the spider ran up the side of the boat, sprang upon the water where it floated like a feather, and pushed towards shore.

But Ben had seized an oar and now came down with a splash that sent a shower of spray about and momentarily blinded them both.

"There! Look yonder, Ben!" cried Ralph. "Confound the luck!"

The spider was swiftly crawling up the bank, where it quickly disappeared beneath a tussock.

"That beats all the creatures I ever seen," said Ben. "He must be the great grandfather of all the spiders hereabout."

Mr. Duff, also awakened by the noise, now suggested that it was time they were going on. While proceeding up stream Ralph related his own and Ben's experience with the spider, whereat the mate laughed heartily.

"I am familiar with the species," said he. "True, they do look scary enough, but, strange to say, they are perfectly harmless. Instead of teeth, their mouth is supplied with a kind of suction apparatus by which they suck the blood from smaller insects. But they cannot bite, nor is their touch poisonous. There are other, smaller kinds of spiders about here, however, whose bite is fatal."

"We were jist as bad scared as if it had been a rattlesnake," returned Ben. "I could feel me bloomin' hair turnin' gray when the thing was cocked upon me shoulder."

Towards night they came to a dozen or more small huts made of palm leaves and elephant grass, from which issued a number of nearly naked blacks, who made the air hideous with shouts of welcome.

Here was where they were to trade for fresh meat and vegetables—the object of their river trip.

One tall savage, with a pair of bullock's horns as a head dress, and with his hair reeking with grease, coiled round the same, appeared to be the head man of the village.

He wore a long red flannel shirt as an additional badge of dignity. The rest, men as well as women, wore little else but cloths about the loins.

They were a jolly, sociable set though, and gave our party a hut to themselves, after supplying them with a bountiful supper of "mealies," bull beef, and a kind of bread made from ground maize and the grated buds of the cabbage palm.

After that Mr. Duff and the chief began a laborious trade for meat and vegetables that lasted for an hour or more, and was carried on principally by signs and gestures. Some red blankets, beads, and cheap hand mirrors constituted the offers on the part of the mate.

In this way several bushels of potatoes and a lot of green corn were secured and placed by the natives in the yawl. Meanwhile another party, taking torches, proceeded to a corral near by, and slaughtered a fat ox, with great dexterity. This, in its turn, was placed in the boat, after which all hands prepared to turn in.

"One of us must sleep in the yawl," remarked Duff, "and I guess it ought to be the lightest sleeper."

Ben volunteered, saying that he would waken, as he expressed it, "at the bat of a cat's eye."

Leaving Ben in the boat with a blanket and Winchester, the other two retired to the hut prepared for their reception, and lay down, as they thought, for the night. Duff was soon asleep, but Ralph remained wakeful.

To add to his restlessness he soon found his blankets alive with fleas, from which these native huts are hardly ever free. After fighting and scratching for an hour or more, he got up and returned to the open air for relief.

The scene was both weird and dismal. The small clearing, densely walled in by the forest where the trees sprang nearly two hundred feet in the air, seemed to be stifling under the compression, though the feeling was but the resulting languor of a tropic night without a breeze. Sundry strange and melancholy calls issued in varying cadences from the wilderness, and an occasional splash from the river denoted the passage of some huge marine animal. Crocodiles were bellowing sullenly up stream, and from the closed huts issued the sounds of heavy slumber.

He was thinking it strange that no one should remain on guard amid a life so savage and isolated as that of these simple people, when he was aroused by a touch on his arm, as he sat musing on a log before the embers of their fire.



CHAPTER XVIII.

A Brush in the Wilderness.

Ralph leaped to his feet and presented his ready rifle. But it was only Ben. The sailor's rugged face wore a look of alarm.

"I'm glad ye're up," was his first remark. "I don't like the look of things, though what's stirrin' is more nor I can make out."

"What have yon seen—or heard, for that matter? One can't see much under this wall of woods all about."

"Divil a bit! So I pricked up me ears for list'nin. The crocydiles kep' up such a hullabaloo I could hardly hear meself think, but somehow I caught on to the sound of paddles a goin'. Hist now! Can't 'e hear that?"

They were at one edge of the village, which was not defended by a kraal, or stockade, as is often the custom where enemies are feared. The dense forest undergrowth was not over thirty yards away.

They could now hear certain stealthy sounds, as of some one or something moving within the timber.

"I will wake Mr. Duff," whispered Ralph. "You go back to the boat, Ben. They may see us by the fire."

The sailor returned to his post. The lad soon had the mate awake, listening to his explanation of their uneasiness.

"I will rouse the chief," replied Duff. "You had better rejoin Ben and wait for me there. If some enemy is really prowling around, our first duty, after alarming these people, is to defend our boat."

"Hadn't I better remain with you?" suggested Ralph, with the idea that the greatest danger was in lingering on shore.

"You had better obey orders, lad," returned the mate, not unkindly, however.

Ralph accordingly gathered the bedding in a bundle and stole down to the boat, the bow of which was drawn upon the gravelly bank. Hardly had he reached it when a series of hideous yells issued from the forest on every side, and a rush of unknown forms could be dimly seen making for the huddle of huts near the river.