The Pirate Shark Part 8

"Oh, shucks--what's the matter with you?" Bob's eyes blazed excitedly.

"That's nothin'--you've got to handle sailors like that. But did you hear what he said to Jerry? Called him 'Shark Smith'--and Jerry heard him make threats and said nothing!"

"It's funny discipline," admitted Mart slowly. "But a quartermaster ain't an officer, remember. And I don't blame Birch for being mad."

So the incident pa.s.sed, for indeed it was a mere incident in the sea-routine. Officers are quick to exact instant obedience, and the least show of rebellion or "back talk" is answered with a blow. But even so, the evil face of the one-eyed seaman flitted through Mart's dreams for many a night thereafter, although Birch seemed doubly respectful toward the second mate, as indeed did all the crew.

CHAPTER VII

"WHERE'S PETERS?"

The _Seamew_ had pa.s.sed through Balabac Strait and was standing out into the reef-strewn South China Sea, on the last leg of her course, when it happened.

That afternoon the diving suits and pumps had been broken out and put in order, after which the grinning Kanakas and Jerry Smith had given Mart and Bob some practical lessons in dressing up in the c.u.mbersome water-tight outfit, and in working the pumps. In the evening they had sat up late with Captain Hollinger, talking rifles and ammunition, and they were weary enough to sleep soundly.

Mart's porthole was open that night, as usual. He woke up suddenly to find the setting moon streaming in across his face, and got up to hang a towel across the open port, in order not to exclude the fresh air. As he did so, he heard the ship's bell forward strike eight bells, and knew that it was midnight.

There came a faint pad of bare feet forward--the watches being changed.

Then, as he stood for a moment gazing out at the moonlit sea, he heard the deep voice of the second mate, Liverpool Peters, who had apparently just taken charge of the deck.

"All right, Mr. Swanson. I'll keep a sharp eye on that chart.

Sou'-sou'-east by a half east it is."

Mart went sleepily back to bed and thought no more of it. He knew that they were in dangerous waters, but the yacht had a splendid outfit of charts and there was no danger for her among the coral reefs. He was wakened at dawn, however, to find Bob pounding on his door.

"Hey, Mart!" came the voice of his chum excitedly. "Tumble out here."

Mart growled out an unintelligible reply, but Bob resumed his pounding, so the wireless operator reflected that there must be "something doing."

Hastily flinging on his clothes, he opened the door and gained the deck.

"Well, what's up, Holly? Why, it's hardly dawn yet!"

"Shut up an' come along to the bridge!" exclaimed Bob. "Dad's up there--Joe Swanson came an' roused him up just now. That's what woke me up."

"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Mart vigorously. "We ain't struck a reef, have we?"

"I'm not quite sure myself, Mart. Swanson said something about Liverpool, so mebbe he's had another sc.r.a.p. I heard dad tell him to call all hands, then he was out on deck like a house afire, and I came after you."

"Much obliged, old scout," chattered Mart, for the dawn was cold. While they talked, they had been hastening forward, and now they scrambled hastily up to the bridge deck, where they found everyone but the engine-room crew a.s.sembled. Jerry Smith was at the wheel, and he wagged his head solemnly at the boys, but they were too excited to notice him.

Pushing through the crowd, they entered the chart house. Captain Hollinger was seated at the table, but merely glanced at them with a nod. Swanson and the old rheumatic seaman Borden stood before him.

"Yes, sir," the mate was saying, and Mart noticed that his burly, rugged face looked queer. "He was all right at eight bells, sir. Borden was at the wheel when the port watch came up, an' Liverpool put Birch there in his place."

"All right, Borden," returned the captain quietly. "You may go. Tell Birch to step in here."

The boys glanced at each other, pale-faced. Each was exceedingly anxious to know what had happened, but at sight of Captain Hollinger's tight-lipped mouth and drawn face, they dared ask no questions.

The one-eyed Birch came in, ducking his head respectfully.

"When did you last see Mr. Peters, Birch?" asked the captain.

"At six bells, Cap'n. Mr. Peters said he was goin' below for a drink, but he didn't come to the bridge again, sir."

"You heard nothing suspicious?"

"Nothin', sir."

"Who else was on the bridge?"

"The quartermaster, sir."

"Send him in here. You may go."

Birch left. The two boys again met each other's eyes, hardly able to believe what they had heard. Then old Jerry shuffled in.

"Quartermaster, did Birch leave the wheel about six bells?"

"No, sir--he wasn't off the bridge at all, sir."

"Hm!" Captain Hollinger leaned forward, fixing his eyes on the old seaman. "Look here, Jerry. What do you think happened to Mr. Peters? Did he meet with foul play?"

Jerry hesitated, glancing at the open door. Swanson moved forward and closed it.

"No, sir, I don't think as he did," returned Jerry slowly. "The men didn't like him, Mr. Hollinger; I will say they fair hated him, but not so bad as that, sir. Take Birch there--he's threatened Mr. Peters' life before now, sir, but that's no more'n fo'c'sle talk, sir, as you know very well. No, sir, I think that Mr. Peters went below to get a drink, as Birch said, and in some way fell overboard. Me and Birch was on the bridge, and the rest in the port watch are Kanakas."

There ensued a brisk discussion, in the course of which the horrified boys learned that some time during the night the second mate had vanished. The ship had been searched, but he was not aboard her, nor had there been any sign of struggle. Remembering the scene which they had witnessed between Peters and Birch, Mart immediately suspected the one-eyed seaman, while Swanson openly announced his belief that the second officer had met with foul play; but in no long time all such thoughts were sent flying, when the engine-room crew came up for questioning.

Two of the Kanaka stokers, both of them simple, frank-faced fellows who were above all suspicion, stated that they had come up on deck for a breath of air shortly after six bells and had seen Peters standing by the stern rail, looking down at the swirling waters as they rose from the churn of the propeller. Having no business in that part of the ship, they had gone forward again.

"I think there's no doubt of it," exclaimed the captain at last, even Swanson nodding gloomily. "Poor Peters must have either committed suicide, or else he fell overboard. Stand by for another hour, Mr.

Swanson, then put the ship on her course again."

Only then did the boys become aware that the yacht was retracing her course in the vain effort to pick up her lost second mate. Later on that morning, when all hope had been given up, Bob and Mart sat in the wireless house and talked over the matter in sober earnest. As gladly as they could have suspected Birch, however, they agreed that there was no foul play involved.

"Your dad's no fool," declared Mart positively. "He sized up everything pretty square, and Swanson didn't overlook anything either. Joe is sore at Jerry for something--prob'ly suspects him of being a pirate."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised myself," a.s.serted Bob. "Poor Liverpool!

He was a fine chap, for all his rough ways. Still, there's no doubt that Birch was innocent. I shouldn't wonder if Liverpool got moonstruck and just pitched overboard. I've heard of that happening before, Mart. Look out--there's old Jerry coming aft now."

Sure enough, Mart looked out to see the slightly stooping figure of the old quartermaster coming aft to the wireless house. Jerry entered, ducked his head in silent greeting, and said nothing for some moments.

After his pipe was filled, he looked out at the ocean, glittering in the morning sun, and then turned to glance solemnly at the two boys.

"Mystery o' the sea, lads--wave after wave! Fish down below, lads, and us up above. Fish tell no tales, fish tell no tales! Poor Liverpool Peters, he's--"