WHAT HAPPENED AT HONOLULU
Back in Honolulu Bay lay the _Seamew_, and here at Waikiki were Captain
Hollinger, Bob, and Mart, spending two days at the great Moana Hotel.
For Waikiki is the great seaside resort of Honolulu--throbbing with
motor cars, gay with villas and stately with hotels; trolley cars
running to the city brought out the tourists and surf-bathers, as well
as everyone in Honolulu who could get a day off to go on a picnic.
To Mart it was wonderful in the extreme. Captain Hollinger was busy with
his cables and letters, for after leaving Honolulu he would not be in
touch with business or friends for three weeks or a month, except by
wireless. So the two boys were seeing the sights by themselves, more or
less, which did not detract from their enjoyment a bit.
It was the evening of their first day ashore, and the captain had gone
over to the cable office. The boys, after dinner, had wandered around
through the crowds, avidly watching everything, from the Portuguese
women selling fruit, to the phosphorescent surf rolling in across the
reef in the moonlight.
Finally they turned in at the big gateway of the Japanese Inn, tired and
thirsty and with curiosity somewhat satisfied. A Japanese waiter,
dressed in his white garments, received them smilingly and led them in
through the building to the _lanai_, or veranda, opening on the beach.
They passed between the tables, where sat every kind of
people--millionaire tourists, common sailors, magnificently gowned
women, natives, townfolk--and finally dropped into chairs at a small
table set among the palms and looking out on the sea. The place was set
aside by itself, out of the glare of electric lights, and the two boys
sighed contentedly as the music blared out inside and their little
waiter bobbed respectfully.
"Mebbe you have some whiskey?" he queried with bland innocence. Bob
grinned.
"No, thanks," chuckled Mart. "Nothing in that line for us. Plain ice
cream and melon for me."
"Same here," nodded Bob. The little waiter bobbed again and was gone.
"Golly, ain't this quiet an' restful!" breathed Mart. "This place is
just like fairyland to me, Holly. I'd like to stay here a week instead
of two days!"
"Oh, we got enough ahead of us," laughed the other happily. "By juniper,
this place is crowded! He must have stuck us off here in the corner
because we didn't look like good spenders, eh?"
At this juncture the little Japanese returned with their melon and ice
cream, which he set down rather superciliously. Mart, who had been paid
off that day, in common with the rest of the crew, handed him a dollar.
"Here, keep the change, and don't come back for a while. We won't order
any more, and we're going to stay right here, savvy?"
The little waiter bowed low, grinned cheerfully, and vanished behind the
palms that hedged in their table. Both boys were rather glad to be out
of the crowd, however; they could hear perfectly, could get occasional
glimpses of the people around them, and out beyond them the white surf
broke and maintained its low thunder as the tide came in.
Mart, who believed in "resting while the resting was good," as he termed
it, leaned back comfortably after his melon had vanished, and listened
to the orchestra. Bob was too excited to keep quiet, however; he was
taking peeps through the encircling palm branches, commenting on the
curious jumble of people all about, and wishing that his father had been
able to come with them.
"There's a couple o' British officers from the warship in the harbor,
Mart!" he cried hastily. "There go those Chinese who were chattering
away at the table next to us--wonder who'll take their place?"
Mart grinned easily, taking no interest. Suddenly he saw Bob lean
forward, as if unbelieving his own eyes; a flush came into the eager
lad's face, then he breathed a single incredulous gasp.
"By juniper!"
"What's the matter now?" queried his chum unconcernedly.
"By juniper!" exclaimed Bob again, more slowly. Then he leaned forward,
watching. "Look, Mart! Of all the nerve!"
His tone roused Mart, who leaned over the table, glancing through the
same opening which Bob was utilizing. A waiter stood over the table just
on the other side of the palms, pulling back the chairs; slouching into
their places were three men. Mart's eyes opened at sight of them, for
they were no other than old Jerry Smith, the one-eyed seaman Birch, and
Yorke, the old seaman with the twisted, leering mouth that was always
smiling horribly. Mart chuckled.
"Well, what about it, Holly? Haven't they as much right here as we
have?"
"But the nerve o' them!" Bob straightened up, his blue eyes flashing
angrily. "Seamen like them comin' out here to Waikiki as if they were
millionaires!"
"Well, I'm no millionaire myself," rejoined Mart quickly. "Judging from
the crowd, everybody's welcome here that's got the price to pay, Bob.
You're no better than anyone else, are you?"
"I didn't mean that!" retorted his chum, flaring up. "And you know it.
Only it seems funny. Huh! look at that!"
Mart looked again, and saw Jerry fling a gold piece to the waiter. The
crew had been given their wages up to date, he knew, so there was
nothing strange in this, but when the quartermaster carelessly waved the
waiter to keep the change, it did look queer.
"Well, boys," and the thin clear voice of old Jerry pierced to them,
"here's a health to the old crowd, and a quick passing to the Pirate
Shark! Pity all the boys ain't here."
"Blast that Swanson!" growled the one-eyed Birch evilly. "He kep' Jimmy
Dailey an' Borden in his watch--"
"Shut up!" snapped out Yorke, with a leer around. Jerry laughed softly.
"Perfectly safe, Yorke, perfectly safe! Best place to talk is in the
middle of a crowd, as old Bucko Tom used to say. You mind old Bucko Tom,
boys? Fish tell no tales--"
"Stow that jaw o' yours," exclaimed Yorke again. "I say it ain't safe."
The two boys looked at each other. Bob's eyes were burning, and Mart
knew his own cheeks were flushed.
"Lay low," he said softly, his hand on Bob's wrist. "There's somethin'
going on here, Holly. Remember when Swanson an' Jerry met, the night we
sailed?"
Bob nodded excitedly, and Mart pressed him back out of sight. The young
wireless operator was more deeply alarmed than he showed, and had no
scruples about listening. They were not intentionally spying, and even
if they had been, he would have thought little of it.
He remembered the strange things that had already chanced--the evident
acquaintance between Swanson and the rest of their crew, the significant
conversation between the first mate and the quartermaster, the tales
about Jerry's former life. Then there was this toast to the Pirate
Shark! What did it all mean? And Bucko Tom--that was the man Jerry had
"got" according to Swanson's talk that first night. What was going on
here beneath the surface? Could these old men really have all been part
of a pirate crew in other days?
"That's what it looks like," concluded Mart under his breath, as he
outlined his thoughts to Bob. Then he repressed his chum's answer, for
old Jerry's voice was once more reaching them, soft and gentle as ever.
"The mystery o' the sea, lads, wave after wave, wi' the fish down below
and us up above. Now, how'll we make out with it? Singapore?"
"Singapore nothin'!" growled Birch, his one eye blazing darkly. "No
British investigations for me, Shark Smith! No, I say let's go up to
Saigon or one o' them there French ports."
Yorke leered, his twisted mouth grimacing. "Birch is right, Shark. Keep
away from the Britishers. You lads mind the time when the _Coralie_ put
into Sarawak--"
"None of that, Yorke, none o' that!" warned Jerry, his voice piercing
like a knife. "We ain't back in 'Frisco now, remember that. Keep names
out of it, lads."
Mart thrilled excitedly as he caught a glance from Bob. Inwardly he
determined to find out more about this mysterious ship _Coralie_.
As if they had taken caution, the three old men leaned over the table
and spoke in whispers, Yorke's twisted mouth leering, and Birch's one
black eye flaming across the table at the gentle, white-haired
quartermaster. Mart noticed that they seemed to pay him deference, and
he did most of the conversing, but so softly that no word reached the
startled boys. Then the three rose, and Birch spoke in a louder voice.
"Well, Shark Smith's got a head on him, lads! That's the thing to
do--wait. Joe Swanson won't leave his old mates in a hole, neither.
Wait--that's the word!"
All three lurched off, but Bob gazed over at his chum in wild surmise.
"Mart, there's somethin' wrong, by juniper! What's in the wind?"
"Search me, Holly. Of course it looks queer--but they're all old men. I
wouldn't be s'prised if old Jerry was off his head, mumbling like he
does. As far as being pirates goes, that's all foolishness; pirates
ain't old men like them, and besides, piratin' is gone out of style
these days."
"I guess that's true, Mart. They're all old men, for a fact, and I've
noticed that Borden complains of rheumatism pretty bad. Pirates don't
have rheumatism, in any book I ever read. Still, they're a queer
gang--Birch with his one eye and Yorke with that silly-lookin' twisted
mouth of his."
"Yes, they're queer," agreed Mart thoughtfully. "I tell you, Holly,
let's go back and put it up to your dad. He said he'd have more time to
give us, now, and he's a mighty square sort of man."
"Yes, but we promised Jerry to keep quiet!" objected Bob hastily.
"Well, we don't have to say anythin' about the Pirate Shark, do we? That
ain't what's on my mind, anyhow. I'm thinking about what they said about
getting to Singapore or Saigon, and about the _Coralie_ and the
_Melbourne_, and all that. If they're a gang of pirates, we want to know
it. And your dad's level-headed, Holly."
To this Bob agreed, being himself in no little alarm over the things he
had heard and the other things he imagined. So without more ado the two
boys made their way back to the hotel, and with every step their
imaginations rose higher. By the time they located Captain Hollinger in
the writing room, both were flushed and bursting with their tidings.
When the captain saw them, he gave a startled exclamation.
"Good gracious! What've you boys been up to? What's the matter?"
"Come along up to the rooms," said Bob mysteriously. "We've got some
news."
Captain Hollinger followed them, with laughing questions as to their
evening's amusement, but neither boy would say a word until they were
safely within their rooms. Then Mart whirled about excitedly.
"Say, Cap'n, do you know we got a bunch o' pirates aboard the _Seamew_?"
"We've--_what_?"
"You bet!" added Bob hastily. "Old Jerry Smith's the head of the gang,
and Joe Swanson was with 'em on a pirate ship!"
"Look here, what's happened to you two?" exclaimed the captain
wonderingly. "Are you trying to put up a joke on me?"
"Not much," retorted Mart, and plunged into their story. With
interruptions and additions from his chum, he managed to finish it with
some degree of coherence, Captain Hollinger listening without comment.
When they had done, he looked at Mart soberly.
"And you honestly believe those old men are pirates, eh?"
"Well, don't it look like it?" answered Mart stoutly.
Captain Hollinger looked from him to the excited Bob, then with a
stifled shout of laughter he dropped into a chair. For a moment he gave
way completely to a wild spasm of mirth, laughing as Mart had never seen
him laugh before, while the two boys began to feel sheepish and
uncomfortable.
"Pirates!" gasped the captain at length. "Pirates! Oh, this is rich! Old
Jerry Smith--steady Joe Swanson--Wow! It's the best joke I ever heard!"
"Well, isn't there something in it?" queried Bob sharply. His father
wiped his streaming eyes and sat up.
"Why, of course not! Can't you hear a gang of old sailors romancing and
dreaming about the things they'd like to do, without going off at half
cock this way! Oh, you'll never hear the last of this, you two!"
And he went off into another fit of laughter.
"Never mind," and Mart grimaced sourly; "you wait and see. You ask
Swanson some day if he ever sailed on a ship called the _Melbourne_."
"Of course he did!" returned the captain, to the boys' chagrin. "She was
a ship lost at sea ten years ago--he was on his third voyage then, and
drifted about in an open boat for three weeks before being picked up.
Don't I know his whole record? Look here, boys. There's not a sailor
alive who hasn't had some mighty queer experiences, and you haven't
taken that into consideration. I never heard of the _Coralie_, and while
I admit that Jerry may have seen piratical days, and probably has, the
whole thing's absurd on the face of it. Now get off to bed, and don't
chase any more wild geese!"
None the less, Mart turned to Bob while they sought their own rooms.
"That's all right, Holly--but you just remember one thing. Your dad
didn't know anything about that Pirate Shark yarn--"
"Oh, shut up and go to bed!" grinned Bob delightedly. "We got excited,
that was all. Forget it!"
But Mart did not forget it.