"WHERE'S PETERS?"
The _Seamew_ had passed through Balabac Strait and was standing out into
the reef-strewn South China Sea, on the last leg of her course, when it
happened.
That afternoon the diving suits and pumps had been broken out and put in
order, after which the grinning Kanakas and Jerry Smith had given Mart
and Bob some practical lessons in dressing up in the cumbersome
water-tight outfit, and in working the pumps. In the evening they had
sat up late with Captain Hollinger, talking rifles and ammunition, and
they were weary enough to sleep soundly.
Mart's porthole was open that night, as usual. He woke up suddenly to
find the setting moon streaming in across his face, and got up to hang a
towel across the open port, in order not to exclude the fresh air. As he
did so, he heard the ship's bell forward strike eight bells, and knew
that it was midnight.
There came a faint pad of bare feet forward--the watches being changed.
Then, as he stood for a moment gazing out at the moonlit sea, he heard
the deep voice of the second mate, Liverpool Peters, who had apparently
just taken charge of the deck.
"All right, Mr. Swanson. I'll keep a sharp eye on that chart.
Sou'-sou'-east by a half east it is."
Mart went sleepily back to bed and thought no more of it. He knew that
they were in dangerous waters, but the yacht had a splendid outfit of
charts and there was no danger for her among the coral reefs. He was
wakened at dawn, however, to find Bob pounding on his door.
"Hey, Mart!" came the voice of his chum excitedly. "Tumble out here."
Mart growled out an unintelligible reply, but Bob resumed his pounding,
so the wireless operator reflected that there must be "something doing."
Hastily flinging on his clothes, he opened the door and gained the deck.
"Well, what's up, Holly? Why, it's hardly dawn yet!"
"Shut up an' come along to the bridge!" exclaimed Bob. "Dad's up
there--Joe Swanson came an' roused him up just now. That's what woke me
up."
"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Mart vigorously. "We ain't struck a
reef, have we?"
"I'm not quite sure myself, Mart. Swanson said something about
Liverpool, so mebbe he's had another scrap. I heard dad tell him to call
all hands, then he was out on deck like a house afire, and I came after
you."
"Much obliged, old scout," chattered Mart, for the dawn was cold. While
they talked, they had been hastening forward, and now they scrambled
hastily up to the bridge deck, where they found everyone but the
engine-room crew assembled. Jerry Smith was at the wheel, and he wagged
his head solemnly at the boys, but they were too excited to notice him.
Pushing through the crowd, they entered the chart house. Captain
Hollinger was seated at the table, but merely glanced at them with a
nod. Swanson and the old rheumatic seaman Borden stood before him.
"Yes, sir," the mate was saying, and Mart noticed that his burly, rugged
face looked queer. "He was all right at eight bells, sir. Borden was at
the wheel when the port watch came up, an' Liverpool put Birch there in
his place."
"All right, Borden," returned the captain quietly. "You may go. Tell
Birch to step in here."
The boys glanced at each other, pale-faced. Each was exceedingly anxious
to know what had happened, but at sight of Captain Hollinger's
tight-lipped mouth and drawn face, they dared ask no questions.
The one-eyed Birch came in, ducking his head respectfully.
"When did you last see Mr. Peters, Birch?" asked the captain.
"At six bells, Cap'n. Mr. Peters said he was goin' below for a drink,
but he didn't come to the bridge again, sir."
"You heard nothing suspicious?"
"Nothin', sir."
"Who else was on the bridge?"
"The quartermaster, sir."
"Send him in here. You may go."
Birch left. The two boys again met each other's eyes, hardly able to
believe what they had heard. Then old Jerry shuffled in.
"Quartermaster, did Birch leave the wheel about six bells?"
"No, sir--he wasn't off the bridge at all, sir."
"Hm!" Captain Hollinger leaned forward, fixing his eyes on the old
seaman. "Look here, Jerry. What do you think happened to Mr. Peters? Did
he meet with foul play?"
Jerry hesitated, glancing at the open door. Swanson moved forward and
closed it.
"No, sir, I don't think as he did," returned Jerry slowly. "The men
didn't like him, Mr. Hollinger; I will say they fair hated him, but not
so bad as that, sir. Take Birch there--he's threatened Mr. Peters' life
before now, sir, but that's no more'n fo'c'sle talk, sir, as you know
very well. No, sir, I think that Mr. Peters went below to get a drink,
as Birch said, and in some way fell overboard. Me and Birch was on the
bridge, and the rest in the port watch are Kanakas."
There ensued a brisk discussion, in the course of which the horrified
boys learned that some time during the night the second mate had
vanished. The ship had been searched, but he was not aboard her, nor had
there been any sign of struggle. Remembering the scene which they had
witnessed between Peters and Birch, Mart immediately suspected the
one-eyed seaman, while Swanson openly announced his belief that the
second officer had met with foul play; but in no long time all such
thoughts were sent flying, when the engine-room crew came up for
questioning.
Two of the Kanaka stokers, both of them simple, frank-faced fellows who
were above all suspicion, stated that they had come up on deck for a
breath of air shortly after six bells and had seen Peters standing by
the stern rail, looking down at the swirling waters as they rose from
the churn of the propeller. Having no business in that part of the ship,
they had gone forward again.
"I think there's no doubt of it," exclaimed the captain at last, even
Swanson nodding gloomily. "Poor Peters must have either committed
suicide, or else he fell overboard. Stand by for another hour, Mr.
Swanson, then put the ship on her course again."
Only then did the boys become aware that the yacht was retracing her
course in the vain effort to pick up her lost second mate. Later on that
morning, when all hope had been given up, Bob and Mart sat in the
wireless house and talked over the matter in sober earnest. As gladly as
they could have suspected Birch, however, they agreed that there was no
foul play involved.
"Your dad's no fool," declared Mart positively. "He sized up everything
pretty square, and Swanson didn't overlook anything either. Joe is sore
at Jerry for something--prob'ly suspects him of being a pirate."
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised myself," asserted Bob. "Poor Liverpool!
He was a fine chap, for all his rough ways. Still, there's no doubt that
Birch was innocent. I shouldn't wonder if Liverpool got moonstruck and
just pitched overboard. I've heard of that happening before, Mart. Look
out--there's old Jerry coming aft now."
Sure enough, Mart looked out to see the slightly stooping figure of the
old quartermaster coming aft to the wireless house. Jerry entered,
ducked his head in silent greeting, and said nothing for some moments.
After his pipe was filled, he looked out at the ocean, glittering in the
morning sun, and then turned to glance solemnly at the two boys.
"Mystery o' the sea, lads--wave after wave! Fish down below, lads, and
us up above. Fish tell no tales, fish tell no tales! Poor Liverpool
Peters, he's--"
"Look here, Jerry," exclaimed Mart, breaking in abruptly on the old
man's talk and forcing the bleary blue eyes to meet his. "I'd like to
know just how much stock to take in your talk. How long is it since you
and the rest of 'em were shipmates together aboard the _Coralie_, eh?"
Mart fully expected that Jerry would break out into vehement denial, and
might even be surprised into making some admission. Bob, also, while no
little astonished at his chum's unexpected attack, nodded his support
and craned forward as he watched the quartermaster.
But to their mutual disconcertion, old Jerry's face did not change, save
for a slight widening of his blue eyes as they met the hard gray ones of
Mart. When he replied to the question, it was with a little chuckle as
of inward amusement.
"Well, well! So you lads have heard about the old _Coralie_, hey? There
ain't many in these seas as haven't, 'cause why, men are bound to talk.
Only fish tell no tales, lads. Aye, the old _Coralie_ was a sweet little
schooner, she was! But that was all years ago--and now she's lyin'
ninety fathom deep, lads, off the South Lyconia reef. Not very far from
here, neither, where she went down."
Mart sent a blank gaze at his chum, as Jerry replaced his pipe in his
mouth and gazed calmly out at the ocean. This cool reception of his bomb
was dismaying to say the least; but Bob came promptly to the rescue, and
more successfully.
"Why do they call you Shark Smith, Jerry?" he asked carelessly.
This time the boys scored visibly. The quartermaster's position did not
change, but his bleared eyes suddenly flashed out quick and keen and
bright, while his wrinkled old face lost its gently benignant expression
as his firm mouth snapped shut on his pipe. This was not the first time
the boys had seen that swift alteration of his features; and now it
passed as quickly as it had passed before. Jerry turned slowly and
looked at them, a slow smile crinkling up his eyes.
"Why, lads, ye main surprised me, ye did that! How come you to learn
that old Jerry was called Shark Smith, now?"
"Oh, we heard about it," laughed Mart carelessly. "What's the reason,
Jerry?"
The quartermaster chuckled again, tapped down his pipe, and replied
frankly.
"Well, lads, I like both o' you, so I'll tell you. You mind me tellin'
you about that there Pirate Shark, one day?"
They answered his questioning look with a nod.
"Well, when we was in the old _Coralie_, tradin' among the islands and
doin' a bit o' pearl-fishin' on the side, we met up wi' that there
Pirate Shark. He nipped two of our men, he did, and I been chasing him
ever since, lads. I'm goin' to get him, an' I'm goin' to lay him out
where he won't kill no more men, lads. My mates know this and that's why
they call me Shark Smith, 'cause why I've been after that there Pirate
Shark for a long time. Now I'm goin' to get him this cruise."
Mart's eyes flashed suddenly. He thought he understood everything now.
"So that's why you've got that dynamite aboard!" he cried accusingly.
"You lied to Captain Hollinger about that river having gold, just to
get--"
"Tut, tut, lad!" Under Jerry's reproachful glance his words died away.
"No, I told no lies, lad. That river has gold in it all right. I'm goin'
to get the Pirate Shark, and the cap'n gets the gold concession. Ain't
that fair, lads? Ain't that fair, I asks you?"
Mart looked into the reproachful blue eyes an instant, then nodded. He
suddenly felt ashamed of suspecting this gentle, half-crazy old man of
any wrong. It lay plain before him now--the Pirate Shark had killed two
of Jerry's shipmates, years before, and ever since that time the old
quartermaster had been pursuing his enemy, until it had become a fixed
mania with him. After all, he did not blame old Jerry so very much, he
thought.
Bob also was quite satisfied now, as appeared after Jerry had slouched
away below again and the two boys talked over the matter.
"By juniper, Mart," exclaimed Bob, "I guess dad was right. We were
foolish to suspect old Jerry. He's got a bug about killing that Pirate
Shark, see?"
"Sure he has," agreed Mart at once. "He's a little bit touched in the
head, Holly, but that's about all. Did you notice that he never budged
an eyelash when I shot out the _Coralie_ at him?"
"Uh-huh," nodded Bob thoughtfully. "So the _Coralie_ was just a trading
schooner among the islands, eh? That straightens out things pretty well,
Mart. I s'pose she was a pretty tough craft, like most of 'em were in
the old days, and prob'ly she did a little pirating on the side. But
just as dad says, there aren't any pirates any more. Especially on the
_Seamew_. Believe me, we've been knocking at the wrong door."
"Looks like it to me," assented Mart. "Let's just forget the whole
thing, Holly, and call it square. I guess there's no doubt that poor
Liverpool fell overboard, either. But if Jerry got that dynamite put
aboard to kill the Pirate Shark, I see where we're going to have some
fun, Holly!"
"Say, that's right!" Bob sat up suddenly, looking at Mart. Then they
both grinned.
"We'll let your dad get off after his tigers, an' when he gets back
we'll have some surprising news for him, eh?"
"You bet!" agreed Bob, chortling.
But if Mart had been able to look into the future, he would hardly have
greeted the prospect with such unalloyed delight. For old Jerry Smith
was not quite so crazy as he was credited with being.