could do any work.”
“Humph! On your beam ends, eh?” grunted the officer more kindly. “Well,
I did hear the old man say he wanted a boy to help the steward, and I
know he hasn’t shipped one yet. It’s a dog’s life, though,” he added,
looking at Jim. “Been to sea before?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I don’t know that that matters; you won’t have much sailoring to
do. Best wait and see the old man, he’ll be down along in an hour. Had
your breakfast?”
“No, sir.”
For answer the mate walked aft, and putting his head through the door
leading to the officers’ quarters under the bridge, bawled for the
steward, who presently emerged.
“Look here, steward; take this youngster down below and give him
something to eat. He looks as if he wanted it, poor little chap!”
“Thank you, sir,” said Jim gratefully, and following the steward, he was
soon gobbling up an enormous meal in the little cubby-hole which did
duty as a pantry.
“Well, my son, you’re a rare ’un on the victuals!” gasped the steward,
as he watched the food disappear. “Hungry? Ain’t had nothing to eat for
a fortnight, I should think! What did you come here for?”
“The officer said I might be taken on as a cabin-boy,” said Jim, between
his mouthfuls.
“Oh, yes, I did hear the old man say something about having a boy to
help me,” replied the steward. “Ye’ll have to mind your eye if he does
take you on, though; the old man’s a fair caution when he gets his rag
out.”
“I don’t mind that, sir,” said Jim. “Can you tell me where the ship’s
going?”
“I dunno exactly,” replied the man; “I believe it’s somewhere up the
Straits--Mediterranean, you know. This is her first trip; she’s a
brand-new ship--just been built on the Tyne.”
“Do you know how long she will be away, sir?”
“No, sonny, I don’t know for certain. The crew’s only signed on for the
voyage. The old man told them he thought ’twould be about three months;
but I don’t think he knows for certain. She’s a good ship, though. Not
like some of them ordinary tramps you see knocking around. She can do
her fifteen knots easy--most of them can’t do more than ten.”
The conversation was here interrupted by shouts of “Steward!” And
answering, “Coming, sir!” the man said, as he left the pantry, “That’s
the old man. I expect he’ll want to see you in a minute.”
Jim waited in anxiety, and when the steward reappeared and said, “Come
this way--he wants you,” he got up and followed the man to the officers’
berth.
“Are you the boy who wants a berth?” inquired a short, thick-set,
bearded man, who was sitting in front of the stove. He looked ferocious,
but his tone was not unkindly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any experience?”
“No, sir,” said the boy, his heart failing him as he was asked the
inevitable question.
“Well, we’ll knock some into you; and so long as you do your work you
won’t fall foul of me. What about wages, now?”
“I’m ready to take anything, sir.”
“Five shillings a week I’ll give you. You get your food with the
steward, of course,” said the captain.
“Thank you, sir,” gratefully replied Jim, for the amount, though small,
was more than he had expected.
“Well, get your clothes aboard and the steward will show you your work.
We sail on the evening tide, about four o’clock.” He waved his hand to
show that the interview was at an end.
Jim left the cabin delighted at the prospect of getting away so soon,
and, after asking his new master’s permission, went ashore to fetch his
scanty belongings and to purchase a few more necessary articles with the
remainder of his money.
Returning towards noon, he found the cargo stowed and the men busy
preparing the ship for sea. He was not idle long, however, for the
steward soon pounced upon him and initiated him into his new duties.
These consisted in fetching the officers’ food from the galley, laying
and clearing away the table before and after meals, waiting on the
officers, washing up the plates, knives and forks, cleaning out, making
the beds, and being generally responsible for the chief and second
mates’ berths. There was plenty of work to be done, and the whole
afternoon he was hard at it.
Towards half-past three steam was up and ready, and soon afterwards the
dock gates opened and the _Sea Foam_ was warped out through a basin
crowded with shipping, until she finally passed into the muddy Thames.
With a pilot on board she steamed slowly down the sinuous reaches of the
river, past the Rotherhithe, East India, and Victoria and Albert Docks,
and, off Gravesend, the pilot was dropped into his boat alongside, and
the ship increased her speed and shaped her course towards the open sea.
It was all entirely novel to Jim, and he stood just below the bridge
ladder looking at the ever-changing panorama of ships and land as the
ship steamed along. All sorts and conditions of vessels there were:
great passenger liners, tramp steamers, large four-masted ocean-going
sailing ships, barges, etc., all claimed his attention in turn. He was,
however, interrupted; for the mate, who had been aft, suddenly rushed
forward, and, pushing Jim aside, dashed up the ladder on to the bridge,
taking the steps two at a time. From where the boy stood the skipper
could not be seen, but Jim could distinctly hear what was said.
“There’s a Customs launch following us, sir!” the mate shouted. “She’s
cracking on all she knows, and will be alongside us in ten minutes!”
“They must have spotted those cases of rifles and ammunition,” said the
skipper. “Look here, Barter, tell the engineer to go on all he knows. If
he can give us fifteen knots, we should give them the slip all right. I
hope they haven’t thought of wiring to Sheerness. They’ll have
torpedo-boats out looking for us if they have.”
The mate did not wait to reply, but, running down the bridge ladder,
rushed to the engine-room hatch, down which he disappeared. The
vibration increased, and the _Sea Foam_ was soon travelling at full
speed, with the foam dashing from her bows and clouds of black smoke
pouring from her funnel.
“Rifles?” thought Jim. “What on earth are they up to?” Moreover, there
was something suspicious in the fact of the Customs boat’s following
them and the captain’s taking steps to prevent her overhauling his ship.
Glancing aft, he could see the little black-painted launch travelling at
full speed, while a man in the bows was waving his arms and motioning to
the steamer to stop. It was obvious, however, that the _Sea Foam_ was
gaining, and going to the end of the bridge the captain derisively waved
his hand in reply, but made no effort to reduce speed.
The pursuit was still kept up, and the steamer dashed along at a rate
which was entirely against all rules and regulations governing the speed
of vessels navigating the Thames. Try as she might, the Customs launch
could not overhaul her. From four hundred yards astern she had dropped
to half a mile, and at last, when darkness crept on and the sea got
choppy as the _Sea Foam_ left the river and entered the estuary, her
pursuer turned tail and abandoned the chase.
By 5:30 it was practically dark, and dashing along at her best speed the
steamer rapidly neared the open water. In another half-hour the short,
choppy waves had given way to heavier seas, and soon afterwards the
little vessel was pitching and rolling more; as her bows were turned to
the south-eastward towards the open sea.
It was blowing hard from the south-west, and the heavy masses of cloud
were flying down from windward on the strong breeze. Occasional heavy
rain-squalls all but blotted out the lights round about, and it was
obvious that they were in for a dirty night. But in spite of the risk
the captain had ordered all lights to be obscured, for he was anxious
lest torpedo-boats from Sheerness might have been sent out to intercept
him, and these he naturally wished to avoid.
Jim was still standing at the foot of the bridge ladder when he heard
someone come to the top of it.
“Is that you, boy?” said the captain’s voice.
“Yes, sir,” answered Jim.
“Go to the steward and tell him to send up some hot coffee for me and
the mate.”
Jim departed on his errand, and presently returned on deck and went to
the bridge with two cups of the steaming fluid balanced on a tray. It
was pitch dark and blowing hard, while the violent movement of the ship
made climbing the bridge ladder rather a difficult matter. The captain
and mate took the cups; and, left to himself, Jim had a chance to look
about him. Far away to starboard twinkled the lights of Margate, while
nearer there were the red, white and green lights of a number of
steamers. Going to the end of the bridge, the boy peered over the canvas
weather-screen, noticing as he did so that the lights were still unlit;
and, as he watched the foaming white caps of the waves go seething past
the side of the ship, he heard the skipper make a sudden exclamation:
“What’s that right ahead there, with no lights, Barter?” he gasped,
pointing out over the bows.
“Destroyer or torpedo-boat!” said the mate, seizing his night glasses
and levelling them.
Jim looked in the direction indicated, and there, barely a quarter of a
mile ahead, wallowing in the sea, was a long black shape whose four
funnels proclaimed her to be a torpedo-boat destroyer.
“Hard-a-port!” shouted the captain, dropping his coffee cup on to the
deck with a crash; “we shall be into her!”
The _Sea Foam_ swung round and cleared the stern of the destroyer by
barely twenty yards, and as she did so, shouting could be heard from the
latter’s bridge.
“What are you knocking about for without lights, you pirate?” yelled an
angry voice; “what ship is that?”
“The _Caledonia_, London to Barcelona. Sea’s put our lights out!”
shouted back the skipper on the spur of the moment.
The mate laughed; but an instant later he exclaimed:
“She smells a rat, sir--she’s after us!”
It was true; for the destroyer, now right astern, was turning into the
wake of the steamer, and, as the latter was steadied on her original
course, volumes of sparks pouring from the funnels showed that she was
being driven for all she was worth.
“They’ll have us, Barter,” gasped the skipper; “we can’t get away from
her; she’ll go twenty-five knots at least!”
The man-of-war, however, had to turn, and by the time she was following
the _Sea Foam_ she was fully half a mile astern. At that moment a dense,
blinding shower of rain drove down from the windward, shutting out all
lights and making it impossible to see more than one hundred yards
ahead. The skipper was not long in taking advantage of it, and on his
shouting “Hard-a-starboard!” to the man at the wheel, the steamer’s bows
were turned until she was pointing at right angles to her old course.
“She’ll think we’ve gone straight on,” said the captain in an anxious
tone, “and if this squall lasts she may not spot us!”
The mate looked anxiously astern and to windward, but there were no
signs of the warship, and it was still raining heavily. “I think we
shall do it, sir!” he said, as he walked to the compass to give a
direction to the man at the wheel.
A quarter of an hour passed, the minutes seeming like hours to those on
the bridge, but still the _Sea Foam_ forged ahead. At the end of this
time the squall was beginning to clear--and the destroyer was nowhere
visible.
“Have the lamps lit, Barter, and bring her back to south-east,” ordered
the captain. “We’ve given her the slip.”
They had.
II
“That was a narrow squeak,” cried the captain, as he mopped his
streaming face; “if it hadn’t been for that squall we’d have been
collared! If she does sight us now, I expect she’ll take us for someone
else, as we’ve got our lights burning.”
“Yes, sir, I thought she’d have us,” exclaimed Barter, “and I don’t
fancy a spell in gaol. I suppose we’d get that for gun-running! It’s a
pretty serious offence to be collared smuggling arms out of a country
for another country at war!”
“Yes, it’d be prison and a fine, Barter. But it’s a paying game. We
stand to get something pretty considerable between us if we can dump
this lot in the Gulf of Sidra without being collared!”
Jim, seeing that the conversation was evidently not intended for his
ears, and not wishing to be caught eavesdropping, slipped quietly down
the bridge ladder and went below to the pantry, where the steward set
him to prepare the table for the officers’ supper. Soon afterwards,
leaving the second mate on deck, the captain and Barter came below and
had their meal, and this being concluded Jim went to the cabins to tidy
up for the night. Whilst turning down the second mate’s bed, he saw in a
little bookshelf over the head of the bunk a small, thin book labelled
“Atlas,” and knowing that the officer was on the bridge, and that he
would not be disturbed, he abstracted the book from its resting-place
and turned to the index at the end.
“Sidra, Gulf of (Africa), 31° O′ N. 19° O′ E.,” he read, and, having
some slight knowledge of geography, he turned to the map of Africa to
ascertain exactly where the place was. It did not take him long, for he
soon found out that the place was on the north coast of Africa, in
Tripoli, and that it lay just to the southward of a town marked on the
map as Bengazi.
He knew that Italy and Turkey were at war, and he had read, on the rare
occasions when he had looked at a newspaper in the public library, that
fighting was going on in Tripoli. Putting two and two together,
therefore, he came to the conclusion that the _Sea Foam_ had on board a
cargo of rifles and ammunition destined for the Turks, and in this he
was quite correct. Putting the book back in its place, he left the
cabin; and that night, as he lay in his bunk, he pondered over what he
had discovered. The mate’s expression “gun-running” made him feel rather
frightened; for he knew that it was a serious offence for the ships of a
neutral State to supply arms to a belligerent country. If he had known
the true state of affairs he would never have asked for a berth, but as
he had, there was no way out of it, and he meant to see the thing
through. After all, he thought, they could not very well put him in
prison, and the idea of an adventure rather attracted him; so he
determined to make the best of it. While thinking over the situation, he
fell into a dreamless sleep which the violent movement of the ship did
not disturb, and the next morning, when routed out by the steward to
prepare the officers’ breakfast, he felt a very different being to the
miserable youth who had joined the ship twenty-four hours before.
As the ship proceeded down Channel and out into the open Atlantic the
weather steadily improved, and by the time Ushant had been rounded and
the Bay of Biscay reached, there was nothing but a slight north-easterly
swell, which, accompanied as it was by a clear blue sky and a brilliant
sun, caused no inconvenience.
Nothing beyond the usual round of daily duties occurred to relieve the
monotony of the voyage, and Jim found that, although he had to work hard
while he was at it, he had plenty of leisure. He was having quite a good
time; for, though the captain was inclined to be grumpy occasionally,
neither he nor the officers abused or ill-treated Jim, so, on the whole,
his lot was a happy one. The mate, seeing that he was far above the
ordinary run of boys usually found in small steamers, took a liking to
him from the very outset, and many a time Mr. Barter would go out of his
way to explain things. In this way Jim soon picked up a smattering of
sea-faring knowledge.
The old steward himself was a walking nautical encyclopædia, for he had
been a seaman before a permanent lameness had forced him to undertake
the lighter duties of steward. He was never tired of spinning yarns, and
Jim never wearied of listening to them.
The ship steamed southward at ten knots along the coasts of Spain and
Portugal, visible as a blue chain of hills far away to port. The weather
was perfect, and Jim felt that life was well worth living.
One day, while clearing the table after the officers’ midday meal, he
overheard a conversation between the captain and the mate.
“Barter,” the former said, “I’ve been thinking about that Customs boat.
Do you think they had any notion of where we were going?”
“They must have had,” replied the other; “they wouldn’t have been so
keen on stopping us, otherwise.”
“Well,” continued the skipper, “it’s quite possible that if they know
we’re going through the Straits they’ll have wired to Gibraltar to send
out a couple of cruisers or torpedo craft to stop us. How would it be to
paint the ship another colour? This grey’s rather a ‘give away,’ it’s so
uncommon.”
“Yes, we can do that all right, captain. I’ll get the hands on to it the
first thing to-morrow morning; I’ve got plenty of black paint, and we
can slap that over the hull and give her a black funnel with a red band,
or something of the kind.”
“Yes, that’ll do. And paint the name out, too; but put in another,
though; it would never do to have none at all.”
“All right, sir; will _Caledonia_ do?” queried the mate, with a grin.
“Yes, that’s all right. We shall be passing through the Straits by
daylight, so make a good job of it.”
The next morning all the available men were slung over the side with
paint-pots and brushes, and in a short time the grey _Sea Foam_ had been
transformed into the _Caledonia_, a black ship with a black funnel with
red band.
Early the next morning Cape Trafalgar was in sight, and a few hours
later the ship had entered the Straits of Gibraltar, keeping well
towards the African shore. She was about half-way through, when right
ahead, and apparently stopped, were sighted two large cruisers, one
with four funnels, lying directly in the steamer’s track.
“They’re both Britishers,” exclaimed the mate, who was on watch; “that
four-funnelled chap’s one of the _Aboukir_ class.”
“I wonder if they’re after us?” asked the skipper, feeling rather
nervous; “lucky we gave her a lick of paint yesterday. Perhaps they
won’t recognise us.”
“I don’t know so much about that!” answered Barter; “these Royal Navy
chaps are pretty spry; I was in the Reserve myself once, and I know
’em.”
“Well, if they heave us to we’ll hoist the yellow flag and tell them
we’re from Lisbon to Port Said. There’s plague at Lisbon, and they’d
hardly dare board us, the regulations are so strict.”
The _Sea Foam_ steamed on, and was soon close to the great man-of-war.
No notice had apparently been taken of her, and the skipper and mate
were congratulating themselves that they were not going to be stopped
when the cruiser suddenly fired a blank gun to leeward, and at the same
time a string of signal flags fluttered out from her fore masthead.
“Hang it,” growled the captain, “there’s no mistaking that!” And as he
spoke he walked to the engine-room telegraph and rang down “Stop!”
“O.S.C., I.O.X.,” muttered the mate, rapidly turning over the papers of
the signal box to find out the meaning of the flags.
“Heave to. I wish to communicate,” he said to the captain, when he had
found the place.
“Hoist the yellow flag at the fore!” shouted the latter; and even as he
spoke a boat from the man-of-war was half-way across the stretch of
water dividing the two ships.
“What ship is that?” shouted a midshipman, as the cutter approached.
“_Caledonia_; Lisbon to Port Said; general cargo,” answered the captain
in reply.
As if to verify his statement, the boat pulled under the stern, and
there the officer read the name and port of registry, which, luckily,
had been altered the day previous to “_Caledonia_, London.”
“Hope he doesn’t spot our new paint!” ejaculated Barter nervously, as
the boat pulled forward again.
“All right, sir, I’ll go and report,” shouted the officer, whose
suspicions had apparently not been aroused. “You haven’t by any chance
seen a grey steamer called the _Sea Foam_, have you?”
“No, haven’t seen anything of her,” replied the captain, turning his
face to hide his smiles.
“All right, you can proceed on your voyage,” came the reply.
“Thank heaven!” exclaimed the skipper, as he put the engine-room
telegraph to full speed ahead, and motioned to the helmsman to resume
his original course; “that’s our third escape! I wonder how many more we
shall have.”
“You’ve got the whole Italian fleet to dodge yet, sir,” remarked Barter.
Soon afterwards the speed of the _Sea Foam_ was increased to fifteen
knots, for this would bring the ship to her destination about 11 p.m. on
the fourth night after leaving the Straits.
The time passed without incident, and the last day of the voyage broke
fine and clear. From daylight the captain and mate were on the bridge
gazing anxiously ahead for the columns of smoke that would betoken the
presence of men-of-war. They had their meals brought up to them by Jim,
and the boy himself could not help feeling his spirits rise as the ship
forged ahead and no warships were seen. The hours passed rapidly, and at
length the sun set in the western horizon in a blaze of scarlet and
orange, but still the _Sea Foam_ steamed along at fifteen knots. All her
lights were extinguished, and there was nothing to proclaim her
whereabouts except the phosphorescent welter churned up by the screw,
and a ruddy glow at the funnel-top.
The captain and Barter were still keeping their weary vigil on the
bridge, looking ahead through the darkness, when suddenly Jim, who was
on deck, saw a rapidly-moving light about a mile away on the starboard
side of the ship. It was moving fast in an opposite direction to the
steamer. Rushing on to the bridge, he seized Mr. Barter by the arm and
drew his attention to it.
The mate snatched the binoculars, and after gazing at the light for a
second or two he exclaimed to the captain:
“There’s a destroyer out there, sir. No, there’s more than one--two,
four; I can count six, sir--steaming very fast in single file.”
“I wonder if they’ve spotted us?” gasped the captain.
“I don’t think so,” replied the other, “they’re moving away.”
“Lucky there’s no moon and it’s a dark night!”
“They must have been keeping a pretty rotten look out, though,”
rejoined Barter; “Watson, here, spotted them all right.”
The destroyers vanished in the gloom astern, and the _Sea Foam_ steamed
rapidly on towards her destination. Ten o’clock came, but no more
men-of-war were sighted, and about half an hour later the skipper,
pointing ahead, suddenly exclaimed:
“We’re getting close, Barter; I can see the land ahead and on both bows.
Get the anchor ready, and get a man along with a lead.”
The dark shadow of the land was now distinctly visible, and, with the
engines eased to “dead slow,” the steamer crept cautiously ahead.
“And a quarter-nine!” came the long-drawn-out cry from the man with the
lead. “A quarter less eight!” came the next sounding, a minute later.
The water was shoaling rapidly, and as the land was evidently getting
close the ship was stopped, and the captain hailed the forecastle to let
go the anchor. The rusty monster fell with a splash and a rattle of
cable--the journey was over.
Going to the end of the bridge, the captain then fired a blue light, and
its appearance was the signal for a chorus of yells a short distance off
on the starboard beam.
“They’re there all right, then!” he ejaculated; “I arranged with the
fellow in London to be here at eleven o’clock to-night, and we’ve just
done it! Hark at ’em shouting!”
The howling drew closer, and before long three large Arab dhows stole
into the circle of light and made fast alongside. An officer in Turkish
uniform clambered on board, and going to the bridge he wrung the captain
by the hand.
“You haf arrived, my friend!” he exclaimed in broken English, “with many
good rifles? Aha! Haf you seen those Italian ships?”
“Yes, we saw ’em all right,” said the skipper, “but they didn’t see us!”
“That is good!” replied the other. “I haf brought tree dhow, an’ plenty
men. Are you ready to unload now?”
“Yes, quite ready.” The hatch covers had been removed and the derricks
topped during the afternoon; and, even as he spoke, the winches started
their rattle as the unloading commenced.
There was no need of concealment now, and every soul in the ship, Jim
and the steward included, worked with a will. Case after case containing
rifles and ammunition was slung over the side into the dhows alongside,
and at length, at three o’clock the following morning, the steamer’s
holds were cleared of her cargo.