CHAPTER 1
WE MEET LIEUTENANT ALLERTON
āWhat do you say, Sam, to making a stop at Magdalena Bay?ā asked Uncle Naboth, as we stood on the deck of the Seagull, anchored in Golden Gate Harbor.
āMagdalena!ā I exclaimed; āwhy, itās a wilderness.ā
āI know,ā he replied; ābut the torpedo fleet is there, doinā target practice, anā Admiral Seebre has asked us to drop some mail anā dispatches there, as well as a few supplies missed by the transport that left last Tuesday.ā
āOh, Admiral Seebre,ā I rejoined. āThat puts a different face on the matter. Weāll stop anywhere the admiral wants us to.ā Merchantmen though we are, none of us can fail in genuine admiration for Uriel Seebre, the most typical sea dog on earth ā or on water, rather.
So we waited to ship the supplies and mail, and by sunset were shrouded in golden glory as we slowly steamed out of the harbor and headed south.
Itās a pretty trip. Past old Santa Barbara, the man-made harbor of San Pedro ā the port of Los Angeles ā and along the coast of beautiful Coronado, we hugged the shore line to enjoy the splendid panorama of scenery; but once opposite the Mexican coast we stood out to sea until, three days afterward, we made Magdalena Bay and dropped anchor amid the rakish, narrow-nosed fleet of the torpedo flotilla.
There isnāt much to see at Magdalena. The bay itself is fairly attractive, but the shore is uninteresting and merely discloses a motley group of frame and adobe huts. Yet here the Pacific Squadron comes semiannually to practice target shooting.
As it was four oāclock when our anchor reeled out we decided to lie in the bay until sunrise next morning. We signaled āmail and suppliesā and two boats put out from the Paul Jones, the flagship of the miniature but formidable fleet, and soon boarded us. They were in charge of Lieutenant Paul Allerton, whom we found a very decent fellow without a hint of that contempt for merchantmen affected by so many Annapolis fledglings.
We soon had the stores lowered ā they were not many ā and delivered the mail pouch and dispatch box, getting a formal receipt for them. As supercargo and purser, I attended to this business personally.
āIām glad to have met you, Mr. Steele,ā said Lieutenant Allerton, āand to have seen your famous boat, the Seagull. Weāve heard a good deal of your curious adventures, you know.ā
I laughed, and Uncle Naboth Perkins, who stood beside me, remarked:
āOur days of adventure are about over, I guess, Mr. Allerton.ā
āHave you bagged so much treasure you are ready to retire?ā asked the officer.
āIt isnāt that,ā replied my uncle. āWeāve been tramps a long time, anā sailed in many seas; but the lifeās a bit too strenuous for us, soās to speak. These boys oā ours are reckless enough to git us inter a heap oā trouble, anā keep us there, too, if we didnāt call a halt. So, seeinā as life counts for more ān anything else, Capān Steele anā I hev made the youngsters turn over a new leaf. Weāre now on our way to the Atlantic, āround the Horn, anā perpose to do peaceful tradinā from now on.ā
Allerton listened with thoughtful interest. He seemed on the point of saying something in return, but hesitated and then touched his cap.
āI must be going, gentlemen. You know how grateful we exiles are for the mail and tinned stuff, and I tender the thanks of the fleet for your courtesy.ā
Then he went away and we considered the incident closed.
We were a strangely assorted group as we congregated on the deck of our beautiful craft, the Seagull, after dinner that evening, and perhaps here is an excellent opportunity to introduce ourselves to the reader.
Our ship, which we believe has been termed āthe pride of the merchant marine,ā was constructed under our personal supervision, and sails or steams as we desire. It is about a thousand tons burden, yacht built, and as trim as a man-oā-war. It is commanded by my father, Captain Richard Steele, one of the most experienced and capable sailors of his time. He is one-third owner, and I have the same interest, being proud to state that I furnished my share of the money from funds I had personally earned. Uncle Naboth Perkins, my dead motherās only brother, owns the remaining third.
Uncle Naboth is a ānatural bom traderā and a wonder in his way. He isnāt a bit of a practical sailor, but has followed the seas from his youth and has won the confidence and esteem of every shipper who ever entrusted a cargo to his care. He has no scholastic learning, but is very wise in mercantile ways and is noted for his sterling honesty.
My father has a wooden leg; he is old and his face resembles ancient parchment. He uses words only for necessary expression, yet his reserve is neither morose nor disagreeable. He knows how to handle the Seagull in any emergency and his men render him alert obedience because they know that he knows.
I admit that I am rather young to have followed the seas for so long. I canāt well object to being called a boy, because I am a boy in years, and experience hasnāt made my beard grow or added an inch to my height. My position on the Seagull is that of purser and assistant supercargo. In other words, I keep the books, check up the various cargoes, render bills and pay our expenses. I know almost as little of navigation as Uncle Naboth, who is the most important member of our firm because he makes all our contracts with shippers and attends to the delivery of all cargoes.
Over against the rail stands Ned Britton, our first mate. Ned is fatherās right bower. They have sailed together many years and have acquired a mutual understanding and respect. Ned has been thoroughly tested in the past: a blunt, bluff sailor-man, as brave as a lion and as guileless as a babe. His strong point is obeying orders and doing his duty on all occasions.
Here is our second mate, too, squatted on a coil of rope just beside me ā a boy a year or two younger than I am myself. I may as well state right here that Joe Herring is a mystery to me, and Iām the best and closest friend he has in all the world. He is long and lanky, a bit tall for his age and has muscles like steel. He moves slowly; he speaks slowly; he spends hours in silent meditation. Yet I have seen this boy in action when he moved swift as a lightning bolt ā not striking at random, either, but with absolute intelligence.
Once Joe was our cabin boy, promoted to that station from a mere waif. Now he is second mate, with the full respect of Captain Steele, Ned Britton and the entire crew. He wears a common sailor suit, youāll notice, with nothing to indicate his authority. When he is on duty things go like clockwork.
And now I shall probably startle you by the statement that Joe is the rich man, the financial autocrat, of all our little group. His bank account is something to contemplate with awe and reverence. He might own a dozen more expensive ships than the Seagull, yet I question if you could drive him away from her deck without making the lad absolutely miserable. Money counts for little with Joe; his associates and his simple if somewhat adventurous life completely satisfy him.
Reclining at my feet is a burly youth rejoicing in the name of Archibald Sumner Ackley. He isnāt a sailor; he isnāt a passenger even; Archie is just a friend and a chum of Joeās and mine, and he happens to be aboard just because he wonāt quit and go home to his anxious parents in Boston.
I fear that at the moment of this introduction Archie doesnāt show up to the best advantage. The boy is chubby and stout and not exactly handsome of feature. He wears a gaudy checked flannel shirt, no cravat, yellowish green knickerbockers, and a brown jacket so marvelously striped with green that it reminds one of a prison garb. I never can make out where Archie manages to find all his āstrikingā effects in raiment; Iām sure no other living being would wear such clothes. If any one ever asks: āWhereās Archie?ā Uncle Naboth has a whimsical way of putting his hand to his ear and saying: āHush; listen!ā
With all this Iām mighty fond of Archie, and so are we all. Once on a time we had to get used to his peculiarities, for he is stubborn as a mule, denies any oneās right to dictate to him and is bent on having his own way, right or wrong. But the boy is true blue in any emergency; faithful to his friends, even to death; faces danger with manly courage and is a tower of strength in any encounter. He sails with the Seagull because he likes the life and canāt be happy, he claims, away from Joe and me.
And now you know all of us on the quarter deck, and Iāll just say a word about our two blacks, Nux and Bryonia. They are South Sea Islanders, picked up by Uncle Naboth years ago and devoted now to us all ā especially to my humble self. Weāve been together in many adventures, these ebony skinned men and I, and more than once I have owed my life to their fidelity. Nux is cabin master and steward; heās the stockiest of the big fellows. Bryonia is shipās cook, and worthy the post of chef at Sherryās. He can furnish the best meal from the least material of any one Iāve ever known, and with our ample supplies you may imagine we live like pigs in clover aboard the Seagull.
Our crew consists of a dozen picked and tested men, all but one having sailed with us ever since the ship was launched. We lost a man on the way back from China a while ago. and replaced him in San Francisco with a stalwart, brown-skinned Mexican, Pedro by name. He wasnāt one of the lazy, āgreaserā sort, but an active fellow with an intelligent face and keen eyes. Captain Hildreth of the Anemone gave us the man, and said he had given good service on two long voyages. But Pedro had had enough of the frozen north by that time and when he heard we were short a man begged to join us, knowing we were headed south. Captain Hildreth, who is our good friend, let us have him, and my father is pleased with the way the Mexican does his work.
The Seagull was built for commerce and has been devoted mainly to commerce; yet we do not like the tedium of regular voyages between given ports and have been quite successful in undertaking ātrampā consignments of freight to be delivered in various far-off foreign lands. During these voyages we have been led more than once into dangerous āsideā adventures, and on our last voyage Joe, Archie and I had barely escaped with our lives ā and that by the merest chance ā while engaged in one of these reckless undertakings. It was this incident that caused Uncle Naboth and my father to look grave and solemn whenever their eyes fell upon us three, and while we lay anchored in San Francisco harbor they announced to me their decision to avoid any such scrapes in the future by undertaking to cover a regular route between Cuba and Key West, engaging in the tobacco and cigar trade.
I did not fancy this arrangement very much, but was obliged to submit to my partners and superiors. Archie growled that he would āquit us coldā at the first Atlantic port, but intended to accompany us around the Horn, where there might be a ālittle excitementā if bad weather caught us. Joe merely shrugged his shoulders and refrained from comment. And so we started from the Golden Gate en route for Cuba, laden only with our necessary stores for ballast, although our bunkers were full of excellent Alaska coal.
The stop in Magdalena Bay would be our last one for some time; so, being at anchor, with no duties of routine confronting us, we sat on deck enjoying the beautiful tropical evening and chatting comfortably while the sailors grouped around the forecastle and smoked their pipes with unalloyed and unaccustomed indolence.
The lights of the near-by torpedo fleet were beginning to glimmer in the gathering dusk when a small boat boarded us and we were surprised to see Lieutenant Allerton come on board again and approach our company. This time, however, he wore civilianās clothes instead of his uniform.
Greeting us with quiet respect he asked:
āMay I sit down, gentlemen? Iād like a little talk with you.ā
Captain Steele pointed to a chair at his side.
āYou are very welcome, sir,ā he answered.
Allerton sat down.
āThe despatches you brought,ā said he, āconveyed to me some joyful news. I have been granted a three monthsā leave of absence.ā
As he paused I remarked, speaking for us all:
āYou are to be congratulated, Lieutenant. Isnāt that a rather unusual leave?ā
āIndeed it is,ā he returned, laughingly. āIāve been trying for it for nearly two years, and it might not have been allowed now had I not possessed an influential friend at Washington ā my uncle, Simeon Wells.ā
āSime...