SEASICK
Fortunately Dr. Moorland had arranged all the details concerning Jack’s
sailing and had forwarded his steamship ticket and stateroom reservation
to him while he was still in Middlebury, otherwise he never would
have made the Pringle Line pier before the sailing hour. Somewhere
south of Albany a freight train had been wrecked during the night and
in consequence the entire line had been tied up for three hours. The
Montreal express had merely crawled along for the greater part of its
journey and when Jack awoke the next morning he found to his dismay that
it had many miles to go before it reached the Grand Central depot. In
fact, when it finally pulled into the train shed the young traveler had a
little more than half an hour in which to reach the Brooklyn dock.
Valise in hand he stood on the platform of the first car when the long
train rolled in. And while the brakes were yet crunching against the
wheels he leapt down, to the imminent peril of a colored porter whom he
nearly bowled over in his mad haste to reach Forty-second Street. Down
the long concourse and through the waiting-room he hurried until he
finally gained the sidewalk. There he hailed the first taxicab in sight.
Pausing only a moment to give the driver hasty instructions, Jack plunged
inside and immediately was being whisked through New York at top speed.
But with all this hustle and bustle he came very near to missing the
boat. Indeed he was among the last aboard. All but one gang-plank had
been hauled in and the few remaining visitors were being hastened ashore
by the stewards when he finally gained the deck and paused to catch his
breath. She was a long low white-hulled steamer that sailed under the
name of the _Yucatan_ and her seaworthiness was apparent even to Jack,
who had never before set foot on a ship’s deck.
The first thing that the boy from Drueryville Academy did after
locating his stateroom was to see that the wallet with its precious
contents was secure in its proper place. His mind at ease on this
point, he immediately returned to the deck, for he was eager to see
the sights of New York harbor. The _Yucatan_ was slipping past the
lower end of Governor’s Island and the entire skyline of Manhattan was
spread out before his admiring gaze. But presently, as the ship passed
Tompkinsville, his attention was diverted to three huge gray vessels with
queer basket-like masts that were anchored just off the Staten Island
shore. He recalled that a United States Navy coaling station was located
in that vicinity and concluded that this was the reason for the presence
there of three of the largest of Uncle Sam’s battleships.
And as these vessels faded in the distance a new delight was revealed to
him. The _Yucatan_ was steaming down the Narrows toward the lower bay
and on either bank Jack beheld the many innocent looking grass-grown
terraces of Fort Wadsworth and Fort Hamilton behind which the deadly
disappearing guns of the harbor defense are concealed. The mere sight of
these embankments with the Stars and Stripes whipping in the breeze above
them made the young Vermonter thrill with patriotism, and for the first
time in his life he realized fully how glad he was that Yankee blood
coursed through his veins. And as he stood there almost spell-bound by
this picture of silent power, some one at his elbow spoke to him.
“They look almost impregnable,” said the stranger, whereat Jack turned to
find himself addressed by a tall, good looking man whose face was tanned
to a ruddy brown, and whose eyes sparkled with as much enthusiasm as his
own.
“Indeed they do, and I am proud of them,” our young friend replied with
feeling.
“So am I, son; so am I,” said the other with equal fervor. “And every day
I feel more grateful to Providence for making an American of me. You’ll
appreciate it too after you have traveled in foreign lands a little
while.”
Jack instinctively liked this man. He was so heartily enthusiastic about
America and everything American that the boy could not help but admire
him. Indeed he found him decidedly interesting as a companion and they
chatted away about everything in general until the _Yucatan_ reached
Sandy Hook. Here the stranger brought forth a pair of binoculars and
scrutinized the beach and the Atlantic Highlands beyond until he located
the object of his search. Then he passed the glasses to Jack, saying as
he did so:
“Here, look at the greatest lighthouses in the world. See those two
towers standing out of the foliage over there on the hill. The reflection
of their lights can be seen seventy miles out at sea.”
After a search Jack found them. They appeared like the towers of some
medieval castle connected by a long low brick structure.
“Are those the Sandy Hook Lights?” he queried.
“No,” said his companion, “they are officially known as the Navesink
Lights. The Sandy Hook Light is that old octagonal white tower over
yonder. That is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, lighthouse in
America. It was built by the British Government in 1764 and during the
Revolutionary War the King’s soldiers used it as a military prison.
Not long ago when they were making some improvements in the foundation
a dungeon was unearthed in which were found several human skeletons,
evidently Colonial soldiers imprisoned there and not liberated when the
lighthouse was abandoned. Now if you will turn your glasses off to the
right you will be able to see the Sandy Hook Lightship. That little
cockleshell of a craft is there winter and summer fighting every storm
and fog that comes up. She’s in competent hands, however, for the captain
is a master mariner.”
Jack was exceedingly interested. He wondered how his companion came to
know so much about lighthouses and lightships and several times he was
on the point of asking him. This, however, was not necessary, for a few
moments later the information was furnished quite voluntarily.
“By the way,” said the stranger, after Jack had finished scrutinizing
the tossing lightship, “I’ve neglected to introduce myself. My name
is Warner, James Warner, I am supposed to be a marine engineer. You
understand; a builder of lighthouses, concrete dykes and all that.”
“And I am John Strawbridge of Drueryville Academy, but since Strawbridge
is a rather large mouthful I suggest you call me Jack Straw. It’s
handier, you know.”
“Jack Straw, eh? Well, that’s corking,” said Mr. Warner heartily,
clapping the boy on the back. “Where are you bound for, Jack? I’m on my
way to Tampico. President Huerta, of Mexico, has just given me a contract
to rebuild the foundation of the Lobo’s Island Light. That is one of the
most important coast markings in Mexico.”
“I’m bound for Necaxa, by way of Vera Cruz and Mexico City,” said Jack,
who had already begun to feel like a seasoned traveler.
“Necaxa,” exclaimed his companion; “why that’s where the big
hydro-electric power plant is located. That’s where Mexico City gets
its light from. Harry Ryder, the engineer in charge of the plant, is an
old chum of mine. In fact, we were classmates at Sheffield Scientific
School.”
“Why, he’s the man I am expecting to visit there,” said Jack, somewhat
surprised at the fact that Mr. Warner knew Dr. Moorland’s nephew. He
refrained, however, from telling his companion the reason for his journey.
“Well, that’s mighty interesting,” replied the marine engineer. “I
haven’t seen Harry Ryder in more than two years, though I’ve kept in
touch with him. He’s a very capable fellow, and he deserves the honor
of being in charge of the largest electric station in Mexico. He won
the office, you know, about a year or so ago. President Madero held
competitive examinations in Mexico City. Harry carried off the highest
honors. But from what he told me he was rather hard pressed by several
other good electrical engineers, both Americans and Mexicans. I guess he
expected to lose his position when Huerta won the revolution and deposed
Madero. But the new president reappointed him.”
Jack was greatly pleased to learn that Dr. Moorland’s relative was so
well liked by his former classmate. It served to increase his interest in
the man whose plans he was carrying and he concluded that his visit to
Mexico was destined to be very pleasant with Mr. Ryder as his host. He
became silent after that, for his thoughts were far away, anticipating
his sojourn in the land that Cortez conquered. The voice of Mr. Warner
interrupted this pleasant mental occupation.
“Look over there on the horizon. That’s a storm cloud. I rather think
it’s fixing for a blow. Do you ever get seasick?” he queried.
“Well, I’ve never had an opportunity to find out,” said Jack, “for you
see this is my first experience on salt water.”
“Well, you’ll know within an hour. It’s freshening up now and before long
the boat will be pitching around like a Mexican burro, a beast you are
destined to become acquainted with before you have traveled in Mexico
very long.”
Jack smiled at Mr. Warner’s simile, but it was not long before he noticed
that the long rolling swells had changed to white crested waves that
pounded against the steel sides of the _Yucatan_ with a hiss and a shower
of salt spray. The pitching of the ship had increased, too, by the time
he and Mr. Warner went below for luncheon. Indeed, he found it rather
hard to follow his companion across the dining saloon without seeming to
stagger. At the same time he began to feel very peculiarly. It was as if
he had been swinging around and around so violently that he had finally
become very dizzy. He tried his best to hide his feelings from Mr.
Warner, hoping that he would be a little better after he had eaten. But
his companion looked at him sharply as he took his seat at the table and
Jack was certain that he saw the semblance of a smile about the corners
of his mouth. This nettled the boy and he determined that he would master
the peculiar feeling immediately. About that time, however, the waiter
placed a plate of hot soup before him. Jack looked at it once and all his
self-control vanished. Somehow the sight of food made him extremely ill
and without even the formality of excusing himself he pushed back his
chair and bolted for his stateroom.
Life hardly seemed worth living to Jack Straw during the next three
days for he was so ill that he could not stir out of his stateroom.
The _Yucatan_ pitched and rolled as if she was being tossed about for
a plaything by some very inconsiderate giant, and it frequently seemed
to the boy that the steel hull was on the point of foundering under the
heavy seas that broke against it. Nor did Jack care particularly whether
it did or not.
Several times he made an attempt to leave his stateroom, believing that
he would feel very much better if he could only reach deck. But each time
he left his berth he became so nauseated that he was glad to climb back
again. Mr. Warner made three efforts to visit him but Jack had bolted the
door against all intruders, including a solicitous steward who tried to
persuade him to drink a cup of tea and eat some hot toast.
On the morning of the fourth day out, however, he awoke to find himself
much relieved. To be sure he was very weak, but the sea had gone down
and walking was not the effort it had been before. He found himself able
to eat a light breakfast and later he managed to reach his steamer chair
into which he sank with a sigh of relief. He was not the only passenger
convalescing. Indeed all the occupants of the steamer chairs were pale
and weak appearing and Jack found a great deal of satisfaction in knowing
that others had been affected by the storm.
The _Yucatan_ was plowing her way through the dark blue water of the
Gulf, riding the long lazy swells with graceful ease, and to Jack, who
had never before been out of sight of land, the vast stretch of water
was awe-inspiring. The vessel seemed small and insignificant out there
all alone and he wondered how Columbus and other early adventurers had
ever found courage enough to sail for weeks over untraveled seas knowing
so little of their destination. In fact, how mariners could navigate a
vessel even with present-day charts and equipment seemed a mystery to the
boy from Vermont.
Late that afternoon while Jack was trying to get interested in a book
that he had brought from his stateroom, Mr. Warner appeared on deck.
“By George,” he exclaimed as he caught sight of Jack, “you’re not the
boy with whom I was talking a day or so ago! Why, you look as pale as a
ghost. You must have had a rather disagreeable few days. Well, we did run
through something of a blow and I guess you weren’t the only one who was
seasick. To tell the truth, I felt a little squeamish myself for a time.”
“I think it was about the most unpleasant sensation I ever had,” said
Jack.
“You are right,” said Mr. Warner; “but most of us have to experience
it sometime. Well, you are headed straight for your destination now. I
expect we will reach Tampico by late to-morrow night or the following
morning, and after that it is only a day to Vera Cruz. I am rather
glad I came across you here, for I’ve a lot of figuring to do on some
specifications I brought with me and I may not have an opportunity to see
you again before I land. I’ll say good-by to you now and let me wish you
the very best of luck in Mexico. Be sure and remember me to Harry Ryder
when you see him and tell him also that I may find an opportunity to
visit him if I am in Mexico long enough.”
Jack shook his hand warmly, for he had come to like the marine engineer a
great deal.
“I am sure we shall see each other again some day,” he said as they
parted company.