THE next morning when we were eating a very excellent breakfast of
kidneys and bacon, prepared by our good cook Bumpo, the Doctor said to
me,
“I was just wondering, Stubbins, whether I should stop at the Capa
Blanca Islands or run right across for the coast of Brazil. Miranda
said we could expect a spell of excellent weather now—for four and a
half weeks at least.”
“Well,” I said, spooning out the sugar at the bottom of my cocoa-cup,
“I should think it would be best to make straight across while we
are sure of good weather. And besides the Purple Bird-of-Paradise is
going to keep a lookout for us, isn’t she? She’ll be wondering what’s
happened to us if we don’t get there in about a month.”
“True, quite true, Stubbins. On the other hand, the Capa Blancas make
a very convenient stopping place on our way across. If we should need
supplies or repairs it would be very handy to put in there.”
“How long will it take us from here to the Capa Blancas?” I asked.
“About six days,” said the Doctor—“Well, we can decide later. For the
next two days at any rate our direction would be the same practically
in either case. If you have finished breakfast let’s go and get under
way.”
Upstairs I found our vessel surrounded by white and gray seagulls
who flashed and circled about in the sunny morning air, looking for
food-scraps thrown out by the ships into the harbor.
By about half past seven we had the anchor up and the sails set to a
nice steady breeze; and this time we got out into the open sea without
bumping into a single thing. We met the Penzance fishing fleet coming
in from the night’s fishing, and very trim and neat they looked, in a
line like soldiers, with their red-brown sails all leaning over the
same way and the white water dancing before their bows.
For the next three or four days everything went smoothly and nothing
unusual happened. During this time we all got settled down into our
regular jobs; and in spare moments the Doctor showed each of us how to
take our turns at the wheel, the proper manner of keeping a ship on her
right course, and what to do if the wind changed suddenly. We divided
the twenty-four hours of the day into three spells; and we took it in
turns to sleep our eight hours and be awake sixteen. So the ship was
well looked after, with two of us always on duty.
Besides that, Polynesia, who was an older sailor than any of us, and
really knew a lot about running ships, seemed to be always awake—except
when she took her couple of winks in the sun, standing on one leg
beside the wheel. You may be sure that no one ever got a chance to stay
abed more than his eight hours while Polynesia was around. She used to
watch the ship’s clock; and if you overslept a half-minute, she would
come down to the cabin and peck you gently on the nose till you got up.
I very soon grew to be quite fond of our funny black friend Bumpo,
with his grand way of speaking and his enormous feet which some one
was always stepping on or falling over. Although he was much older
than I was and had been to college, he never tried to lord it over me.
He seemed to be forever smiling and kept all of us in good humor. It
wasn’t long before I began to see the Doctor’s good sense in bringing
him—in spite of the fact that he knew nothing whatever about sailing or
travel.
On the morning of the fifth day out, just as I was taking the wheel
over from the Doctor, Bumpo appeared and said,
“The salt beef is nearly all gone, Sir.”
“The salt beef!” cried the Doctor. “Why, we brought a hundred and
twenty pounds with us. We couldn’t have eaten that in five days. What
can have become of it?”
[Illustration: “In these lower levels we came upon the shadowy shapes
of dead ships”
_Page 360_]
“I don’t know, Sir, I’m sure. Every time I go down to the stores I find
another hunk missing. If it is rats that are eating it, then they are
certainly colossal rodents.”
Polynesia who was walking up and down a stay-rope taking her morning
exercise, put in,
“We must search the hold. If this is allowed to go on we will all be
starving before a week is out. Come downstairs with me, Tommy, and we
will look into this matter.”
So we went downstairs into the store-room and Polynesia told us to keep
quite still and listen. This we did. And presently we heard from a dark
corner of the hold the distinct sound of someone snoring.
“Ah, I thought so,” said Polynesia. “It’s a man—and a big one. Climb
in there, both of you, and haul him out. It sounds as though he were
behind that barrel—Gosh! We seem to have brought half of Puddleby with
us. Anyone would think we were a penny ferry-boat. Such cheek! Haul him
out.”
So Bumpo and I lit a lantern and climbed over the stores. And there,
behind the barrel, sure enough, we found an enormous bearded man fast
asleep with a well-fed look on his face. We woke him up.
“Washamarrer?” he said sleepily.
It was Ben Butcher, the able seaman.
Polynesia spluttered like an angry fire-cracker.
“This is the last straw,” said she. “The one man in the world we least
wanted. Shiver my timbers, what cheek!”
“Would it not be, advisable,” suggested Bumpo, “while the varlet is
still sleepy, to strike him on the head with some heavy object and push
him through a port-hole into the sea?”
“No. We’d get into trouble,” said Polynesia. “We’re not in Jolliginki
now, you know—worse luck!—Besides, there never was a port-hole big
enough to push that man through. Bring him upstairs to the Doctor.”
So we led the man to the wheel where he respectfully touched his cap to
the Doctor.
“Another stowaway, Sir,” said Bumpo smartly.