A CHANGE OF PLAN.
It was dismaying news. Ten days to wait in Panama! To the boys,
especially to Oliver, it seemed an eternity.
“Might as well settle down here,” grumbled Gus. “What in the world are
we to do, caged up in this dreary place for a week and a half?”
“The company will have to board us,” remarked Mr. Whyland, who was
disposed to make the best of the matter. “As far as that goes it will
be their loss, not ours.”
“But I do not wish to lose the time. I suppose Colonel Mendix is
already in San Francisco, or maybe even on his way to the mine,” said
Oliver.
“That is true. But what can we do?”
“I wonder if there are no other ships that carry passengers?” asked
Oliver. “In a place like this there ought to be.”
“Yes, but we’ve got our tickets,” put in Gus. “I can’t afford to lose
the amount I paid on mine.”
“We won’t lose that,” replied Mr. Whyland. “The company will have to
take them back for what they are worth if they cannot carry us at the
stipulated time. But is there any other steamer?”
“I suppose we can find out by going down to the different offices,”
said Oliver. “Suppose we do that before they close for the day?”
“A good plan,” rejoined Mr. Whyland. “I do not care to remain here any
more than you do.”
Stopping an Englishman whom they met, they secured directions to the
various shipping-offices, and then started for the nearest at once.
“The Neolia sails in four days,” was the reply received here; “but the
passenger list is full. No more can be taken.”
“I don’t care much,” remarked Gus when they were once more outside.
“Four days to wait are nearly as bad as ten. Maybe we will find
something that goes to-morrow.”
“Small chance of that, I think,” said Mr. Whyland. “Still, let us try.”
In five minutes they were at another office. Here they were told that
no vessel would sail within several days, and nearly every one was full.
“I thought it would be so,” said Mr. Whyland when they stood outside
once more. “Perhaps the steamship company has bought up the places.”
At that moment a man with a nautical bearing stepped up and tapped
Oliver on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” said he; “but didn’t I see you in the steamship office
inquiring about passage to San Francisco?”
“You did,” replied Oliver. “What of it?”
“Maybe I can accommodate ye, seeing as how the Polly Eliza is going to
sail first thing to-morrow morning,” responded the stranger. “My name
is Morris, Niles Morris, and I’m part owner and captain of the Polly
Eliza, as trim a little coast steamer as there is in these parts. If
you want to ship with me, now is your chance, one or all of ye.”
Oliver looked at the man. He was short and stout, with a ruddy face,
and his voice had a hearty ring.
“We do want passage,” said Oliver. “What do you say?” the last to Mr.
Whyland.
“We would like to see your vessel,” replied that gentleman. “Is she
lying anywhere near?”
“Just down at the end of the bay. Come right along with me and I’ll
show ye. You’ll find her with first-class accommodations, even if she
is small.”
Captain Morris led the way along the street, down a long wharf, and
into a small rowboat. In five minutes they reached a spot where a
neat-looking steamer was lying. They were taken aboard, and found what
her captain had said was true. All was as new as a pin, and it pleased
the boys as well as Mr. Whyland.
“And you sail to-morrow morning?” said the latter.
“Aye, sir; we’ll be outside by ten o’clock.”
“And what will you take the three of us for?”
“Were you going by the steamer?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll do it for just what the steamer has to allow you for your
tickets――or, in other words, I’ll take your tickets for the trip.”
“That is certainly very fair. Are you sure you can dispose of the
tickets?”
“Oh, a captain always can. An ordinary passenger might have trouble,
but we never do. Just give me your tickets, and I’ll give you passes on
my vessel for the trip.”
“Well, I guess”――began Mr. Whyland.
“How long will it take you to reach San Francisco?” put in Oliver.
“About twenty days, if we have favorable weather.”
“I mean at the most.”
“Not over twenty-six days.”
The two boys and Mr. Whyland held a brief consultation. At the
conclusion they informed Captain Morris that they had decided to accept
his offer, and the transfer of tickets was made on the spot.
“Mr. Willett, the purser, will show you to your staterooms,” said
Captain Morris after their business was concluded. “There are two
nice ones close together that you will occupy, and he will make it
comfortable for ye.”
Mr. Willett was called, and he at once led the way below. They found
everything as Captain Morris had described it, and in less than an hour
they felt quite at home.
“This is a lucky thing for us in more ways than one,” said Mr. Whyland
to Oliver. “If Colonel Mendix has discovered that we are on his track
this new move will throw him off. He will think we are here in Panama
waiting for the steamer while we will be half-way to San Francisco.”
“That is true,” returned Oliver, “and I am glad of it, although I guess
he hasn’t the slightest idea that I am after him.”
“I wish I could say the same. But I have a feeling that that is not so
in my case. He is an awfully sharp fellow.”
“Let us trust he has overreached himself,” said Oliver hopefully.
They took their evening meal at a small restaurant in the town, and
later on strolled along the all but deserted battlements of the
coast, and one or two of the ancient looking streets, and around a
tumbled-down convent.
“Panama is almost a city of the past,” remarked Mr. Whyland. “Its
former glory seems to be gone for good.”
At nine o’clock a boat came to the wharf to take them and Captain
Morris and the first mate on board. It was a fine moonlight evening;
but as soon as they reached the deck of the Polly Eliza they went
below, so heavy was the night dew.
Oliver, with Gus as a room-mate, slept soundly that night. When he
awoke the peculiar noise overhead told him that the ship was getting
underway. He sprang up and aroused his companion.
“Don’t want to get up. Let me sleep,” mumbled Gus.
“You’ve got to,” was all Oliver replied; and he gave Gus a poke that
started the stout youth at once.
“Wonder you wouldn’t wake a fellow in the middle of the night,”
grumbled Gus, as he began slowly to dress.
“Middle of the night? It’s seven o’clock, at least.”
“Well, what of it? You say it as if it meant ten.”
“Oh, come, Gus, hurry up. We want to see the steamer leave Panama――at
least I do.”
In five minutes more Oliver was on deck, and the stout lad slowly
followed him. They found that Mr. Whyland was ahead of them.
“We are off,” said that gentleman. “We shall not set foot on ground
again until we land in San Francisco.”