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The Boys' Big Game Series
The PIRATE SHARK
ELLIOTT WHITNEY
Illustrated by Fred J. Arting
COPYRIGHT, 1914 by THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.
[Illustration: Then, without warning, the lines shot up and curled about
the landing--cut short and clean.]
CONTENTS
I "What's Tringanu?"
II Jerry Smith, Quartermaster
III Off for Tringanu
IV The Pirate Shark
V What Happened at Honolulu
VI The Far Seas
VII "Where's Peters?"
VIII Kuala Besut
IX The Black Fin
X Off for Tigers
XI The Storm Breaks
XII The Elephant Gun
XIII Recapture
XIV A Truce
XV Mart Goes Down
XVI The Battle
XVII The Mystery o' the Sea
The Pirate Shark
CHAPTER I
"WHAT'S TRINGANU?"
"I don't care what your orders are. Cap'n Hollinger sent for me, and I'm
going aboard or I'll know the reason why!"
"Well, ain't you just heard the reason why, son? He ain't here, and
orders is orders. There ain't no one comin' aboard the _Seamew_, that's
all. Nothin' was said about any Mart Judson, kid."
"Then I guess your ears need tuning up. I'm comin' aboard, see?"
"Ye'll go overboard then. Well, if the kid ain't goin' to walk right up
to _me_! Look out there, kid--get off that gangplank in a hurry!"
Trouble was in the air. At the rail of the trim yacht _Seamew_ lounged
Swanson, her burly first officer, pipe in mouth. He was evidently angry,
for his heavy features were dark and lowering and his deep-set blue eyes
glittered ominously. But the boy who faced him from the wharf was no
less stirred up.
Mart Judson looked a good deal more than his seventeen years, for he had
worked his own way in the world and his face had a serious air of
responsibility. He wore a smudgy mechanic's cap and greasy overalls, and
from his keen gray eyes, determined mouth and chin, and straight black
hair, an observer might have deduced that he could be a hard worker and
a stubborn fighter if need were.
Yet it was small wonder that Swanson had laughed at him. A boy mechanic
asking for Stephen Hollinger personally, insisting that the millionaire
had sent for him! Mart started obstinately up the gangplank and the mate
laid his pipe on the rail, gave a hitch to his trousers, and moved
forward to repel boarders.
Before he reached the open gangway, however, there came an interrupting
shout from the deck:
"Hello, old Mart Judson! How're ye?"
A second later Mart found himself clasping hands with his friend, Bob
Hollinger, better known as "Holly," the son of the mining expert and
millionaire who owned the yacht. It was a hearty greeting, in spite of
the greasy, cheap clothes of the one, and the carelessly costly dress of
the other. The fact that Mart Judson worked for his living mattered
nothing to Bob or to his father; the boys were the same age and had gone
through high school together, and the two were firm friends.
Stephen Hollinger was an eccentric yet sensible "old-timer," whose
habits were rough and ready and who made Bob work for his pocket-money
most of the time. He had been working just at present, Mart noted; his
fingers were ink-stained, his blue-eyed, freckled, careless face was
smudged, and he seemed both dirty and happy.
Mart glanced about in frank admiration at the white decks and evident
luxury aboard the yacht. It was his first visit to the _Seamew_, for she
was seldom used by her owner. Swanson moved off, grumbling. Mart sent a
good-humored laugh after the discomfited mate, and turned to his chum.
"What's on your mind, Holly? I had a mighty hard time gettin'
away--we're rushed up at the shop. Blurt it out, 'cause I ain't got time
for visitin' to-day. Some seamen had a scrap down at the Peniel Mission,
and I've got to get down there with some new bulbs and fixtures before
dark. What's goin' on?"
"You are," grinned Holly in delight. "Say, Mart--I've got the best news
you ever heard! See those boxes over there on the wharf? They're cabin
stores for a cruise. And you're goin' along with us."
Mart stared blankly at his friend. Bob was plainly in earnest, for all
that his blue eyes were dancing.
"Cut out the funny business! I've got to get back. Did you send that
message or did your dad?"
"Nothing doing on going back," laughed Bob, seizing his arm. "Hold
on--this isn't any pipe dream, old scout. Mother's gone east for a
month. Dad's got to quit work--got indigestion or gastritis or some o'
those stomach things. So we're goin' across the Pacific. You're going
along."
"Not me!" ejaculated Mart quickly, wondering if his chum were crazy. "I
got to hold my job. I'll get a chance at a real wireless job in the
spring, maybe."
"Well," and Bob shrugged his shoulders, "if you'd sooner work in the
shop for eight a week than be wireless man on the _Seamew_ at forty a
month and all found, you can. And if you like San Francisco better'n the
other side o' the world, suit yourself. _I_ ain't your boss, of course!"
The two stared at each other, and slowly the reality of the thing grew
in Mart Judson's brain. Yet it was impossible! He had his wireless
license, but no one would employ him at his age. But Holly was plainly
in dead earnest. Mart could only stare.
"Where you going?" he asked suddenly.
"Tringanu."
"What's Tringanu?"
Bob hesitated. "Well, I'm not quite sure myself," he answered. Then his
face brightened quickly. "Here's dad coming now--we'll ask him. It
struck me kind o' sudden too."
Mart turned as a step sounded behind him, and his hand met that of
Stephen Hollinger. The millionaire was dressed roughly in serge and
yachting cap, for he was his own captain aboard the yacht. His strong,
whimsical face lighted up in a smile at Mart's expression.
"So you got down, eh! Glad to see you. Bob told you about it yet?"
"I just got here," replied Mart. "If he wasn't joking, Mr. Hollinger--"
"Where's Tringanu, dad?" broke in Bob excitedly.
Captain Hollinger--for he assumed this title aboard the _Seamew_--looked
at the two boys amusedly, then took each by an arm and propelled them
toward the companionway.
"Come along to the cabin; I'll give you half an hour. You see, Mart,
we've been so rushed that even Bob hasn't had time to get an
explanation. I got doctor's orders two days ago to drop business and do
it quick. So we came up from Pasadena, the yacht will be in commission
in another day or so, and off we go to Tringanu!"
Five minutes later Mart Judson found himself at a big mahogany table,
his chum opposite him, while the captain got charts from another cabin.
The luxury about him was astonishing; mahogany furnishings, walls,
bookcases, a talking machine and a piano, electric lights and fans.
Everything that could add to comfort or convenience was there, and he
was soon to find that the rest of the yacht was fitted up in like
manner.
"Now," began Captain Hollinger, returning with his maps and charts,
"maybe you know, Mart, that I'm something of a big game hunter, eh?"
"I should guess!" grinned Mart. Like everyone else in San Francisco he
knew that Stephen Hollinger was an enthusiastic sportsman; indeed,
mining and hunting were said to be his chief pleasures in life.
"Well, I'm going hunting. And I'm going here--" he put his finger on the
map as the two boys craned their necks over it. "Tringanu is one of the
Malay states, on the mainland of Asia; it's not exactly civilized, but
I'm thinking of getting a mining concession there at a place I heard of.
"Here it is, on this chart of the China Sea. About halfway up the coast
of Tringanu, see? It's this bay and the lagoon, where the river drains
that big basin, that ought to have gold. There are tigers in the hills,
so I'm going over there on my vacation, maybe get a gold-mining
concession from the government, shoot a tiger or so, and come home
happier, healthier and wealthier. Isn't that a good program, Mart?"
"You bet your life it is!" cried the boy, his eyes shining eagerly.
"Golly! Say, was Bob talking turkey about my going?"
"I guess he was," laughed the captain, looking at Bob. "I told him I
could use a wireless man--had to have one, in fact--and he said you had
your license."
"Got it two weeks ago," admitted Mart with some pride. It had cost him
many hours of nightwork and study, had that license as wireless
operator. Then his face fell suddenly. "I'm not old enough to take the
job, though--"
"Shucks, that don't matter!" broke in Holly. "This isn't a reg'lar job."
"No," assented his father. "All you would have to do is to get market
reports every few days and send some messages back. Look at these maps
again, boys. Now, here's the place, I figure that we'll go to Honolulu,
then hit straight for our goal. The river is named Kuala Besut, and
we'll probably stay there a couple of weeks or more, using divers. All
the gold along there has to be dredged up, you see. While the diving is
going on, we can run up-country shooting."
"Who put you wise to the gold mine, dad?" inquired Bob curiously.
"Old Jerry Smith--a man who has spent all his life out there. He's going
to sail with us. Now hush up for a minute, both of you. From Honolulu we
go direct to the Malay coast, cutting in through the Philippines without
stopping. On the way back we can do all the visiting we want to.
"There's the plan, boys. We'd like to have you go along, Mart, to take
care of our wireless. Salary, forty a month and all found. Of course
you'd mess with us, at the officers' mess, and you boys could have great
old times. How about it? I believe you are free to go, Mart?"
"Plenty free, sir," nodded Mart. "I've had no one to worry over me since
mother died, two years ago. Only--it's an awful big thing for a fellow
to make up his mind to, right off the bat like this. These here Malay
States--aren't they pretty wild and woolly! I've got a notion that's
where the pirates come from--"
The financier broke into a laugh.
"Not to-day, Judson! Why, in Tringanu they make some of the best steel
in the world--the natives, I mean. That's where those curly krisses and
Malay daggers come from. But the piracy is all over. Tringanu isn't
exactly civilized, I'll admit, but it's under British protection, like
all the rest of the Malay States.
"This place where we're going, Kuala Besut, is inside these islands
here, and Jerry Smith says that we can go right up the river in the
yacht. Also, he says, it will be easy to take trips into the jungle with
some of the native chiefs, and bag a tiger or so."
"Who's this Jerry Smith?" asked Mart.
"He's an old-timer--been beating around the Pacific most of his life.
They say he used to be a pirate and blackbirder and that he can tell
strange yarns if he will--but that's all talk. He's just a quiet,
white-haired old man. I've found from other sources that there'll be no
trouble getting a concession on the place--if there's any gold there.
Now that's all I know about the thing. It's up to you, Mart!"
"Well," grinned the gray-eyed boy, glancing at his friend, "you needn't
worry about me. If you really mean it, I'd--I'd pay you to take me
along, sir!"
"Not much," laughed the captain. "It's the other way around, Mart. Well,
we sail Monday morning. Old Jerry is getting a crew for us and he'll
come aboard Sunday night with the men. You'd better quit work at the
shop to-night, get our wireless in shape over to-morrow, to pass the
port inspectors, and rest up Sunday. I'll detail Bob to help you--he's
been acting as supercargo up to date."
"Much obliged," grunted Bob sarcastically, "How about an outfit? Will
Mart have to get any clothes?"
"Not on my ship. They'll come out of the slop-chest. Oh, you needn't
look that way, Mart," and the financier laughed at Mart's dismay.
"Slop-chest is sailors' slang for ship's stores. Just fetch your
ordinary clothes. Bob, you'd better get that stateroom next to yours
fixed up; then you boys can be together. Now, is there anything more you
fellows want to know?"
"Lots," shot out Mart with a sigh as he rose to his feet. "I want to
know so much that it makes my head ache to think of it--but I've got to
get back and get these fixtures down to the Peniel before dark. I'll
turn up in the morning ready for work. And, say, I'm sure grateful to
you, Mr.--er--Captain Hollinger! And I'll do my best to earn my salary,
you can be sure of--"
"Well, get along with you," broke in the financier, smiling. "See you
to-morrow!"
Bob walked up the wharf with his friend, and as they parted, Mart turned
to him.
"By golly, Bob," he said slowly, "I can't believe it! Say, won't we have
one peach of a time, though? S'pose your dad will take us along after
the tigers?"
"Of course he will!" agreed Holly, who had stout confidence in his
father. "We've got more rifles and guns coming down to-morrow than you
can shake a stick at. And we'll go down in the diving suits, too--dad's
promised that already. Well, so long! See you to-morrow."
As Mart Judson walked up the street, he trod on air. It was like a dream
come true. He would be crossing the Pacific, going to foreign lands,
getting the very job he had been vainly longing for--and getting paid
for it all!
"I wonder if it's really true," he thought, staring with unseeing eyes
at the scenes around him. "Blamed if it ain't too good to _be_
true--tiger shooting and diving and gold mines--Oh, what's the use! I'm
dreaming!"