Islands of the Pacific -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories; Treasure troves -- Juvenile fiction
“Man and boy, I’ve followed the sea all my life,” he went on, “and
that’s the very first time I’ve been overboard. Wait till I climb on
board the _Mary Ellen_, and I’ll fire every soul there is on her!”
Two or three faces had appeared over the rail of the tug, but the
threat did not seem to create any dismay.
“You lubbers!” exclaimed the fat man, shaking his fist at the faces.
“Are ye all fast asleep, or is it that ye don’t care if your old
skipper goes to Davy Jones’s locker? I’ll have ye remember that besides
being skipper I’m part owner of this packet, and I’ll fire every man
Jack of ye for leaving it to a baby in long clothes to pull me out.”
“We didn’t hear nothing, Cap’n. We was all down below,” said a voice.
“Well, youngster,” said the corpulent skipper amiably, having
apparently forgotten his wrath, “I’ve got an account to settle with you
and your friend. Cap’n Grummitt isn’t hauled out of a dock every day of
his life. What can I do for ye, eh? Come on board, me hearties, and
wait till I change, else my wife will be nursing a pneumonia patient.
Ye’d better slip them wet things off, too. There will be something on
board for ye to wear till yours dry in the engine-room.”
Tempest lit his pipe and smoked placidly while the two were changing.
“Now,” said Captain Grummitt, emerging a few moments later in dry
garments, “ye can’t put thanks in the bank. What d’ye mean by hanging
around my ship, anyway?”
Good humor was now shining in his rubicund countenance.
“Looking for work,” Dave said quietly.
“And I don’t know that ye deserve it,” commented the skipper, “having
just done my wife out of her insurance money. Are ye both sailors?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if ye fancy the notion of knocking about on an old tug where
there’s nothing to do, as far as I can make out, but eat and draw your
pay, along with the laziest crew that ever drew breath, why don’t ye
come with me?”
CHAPTER XI
“IF EVER YOU GET THE CHANCE――”
“Thank you very much,” said Dave, by no means inclined to jest at the
opportunity in spite of Captain Grummitt’s tone.
In another two minutes the question of wages had been disposed of, and
the two wanderers found themselves installed as members of the _Mary
Ellen’s_ crew, much to their own satisfaction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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