CHAPTER XI.

Aboard the Curlew.

They steamed along between low marshy banks for an hour or two, then the river began to widen into an irregularly shaped bay. Sundry low lying islands, covered with strange semi-tropic vegetation, rose up seaward, and by and by a sound as of m.u.f.fled thunder could be heard.

As they pa.s.sed old Fort Pulaski, Ralph ventured to question the pilot on the roof. This grizzled boatman was gruff, but obliging.

"It's the roar of the breakers, you hear," said he. "That is an old fort. Good for a siege once--no good now. And yonder--do you see that low lying, black schooner under the lee of Tybee light?"

"Where?" inquired Ralph, leaning out of the little pilot house window.

The pilot pointed, but it was quite a minute before the boy could distinguish the vessel. When he did, all his unaccustomed eye could make out, was a narrow dark line surmounted by a dim tracery of spars that were barely relieved by the white beach behind.

Still further beyond rose the towering white lighthouse.

"I believe I do see it," he said at length.

"Well, that's the Curlew. She's a daisy on the wind, or for that matter sailing free either. There ain't a sweeter looking fore-an-after on this coast."

"Is that Captain Gary's ship?" asked Ralph, for he had not heard the name of the vessel mentioned before.

"Well, you are an ignoramus. Don't know the name of the craft you're shipping on."

The old pilot looked disgusted. "Where'd you get your trainin'?"

When Ralph explained that this was his first sight of salt water, and that he had seen the captain for the first time that morning, the pilot shook his grizzled head doubtfully.

"Captain Gary is a deep one, that's what he is. He was mighty milk and watery, wasn't he? I thought so. Know where you're bound for?"

Ralph had not the least idea, but felt no uneasiness, as the captain was so kind; had treated him almost like a son.

"Did eh! Well, now see here. It's none of my business, but I believe in a fair shake." The pilot glanced round and noticing the boatswain sauntering toward them, he bent forward and concluded in an undertone: "When you get aboard and out to sea, you keep your eyes open and watch out for squalls. D'ye hear. Watch out for squalls."

The boy heard but did not understand. The pilot's manner, however, impressed him as unusual. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as the old man, after a knowing wink or two, fixed his eyes upon the course he was steering, and thereafter ignored Ralph's presence entirely.

Bludson cast a searching glance at them both, then ordered Ralph to go below and bring up his coat. The lad obeyed and when he returned, the tug had forged past an island headland, disclosing to them a fine view of the open ocean.

Ralph uttered an exclamation of wonder, and for five minutes or more he leaned against the guard rail, feasting his eyes on the heaving expanse of blue, foam dotted water near the inlet, where the rollers were breaking upon the bar.

"It's the greatest sight I ever saw," he said turning to Bludson, who merely grunted. "How blue it looks! I suppose those changing lines of white are the breakers. Well, well! This beats the mountains. I wish I was out there right now."

"You'd be wishing yourself ash.o.r.e soon," returned Tom apathetically.

"Wait till 'e gets seasick."

"What is that? Does the sea make you sick?"

"I should say it do. But there's a mighty fine cure for all that.

Aye, 'tis a bracin', healthful cure."

"Tell me, Mr. Bludson. You know I might get seasick, too."

"Ye be bound to. Then cap'n 'e'll say lay forrid there and trice up that fo'topmast stays'l brace; and there you is first 'e know fifty feet above the fo' s'l boom, a takin' a good look of an hour or so at old Neptune. Well, if that don't fetch 'e all right, cap'n 'e'll say 'Reeve a slip knot under his arms' which, no sooner done than overboard you goes for a dip or two. That always brings 'em round."

"Looks like a queer way to cure a sick man," commented Ralph, who but half comprehended the boatswain's lingo.

"It beats the doctor though all the same," said Tom with rather a heartless grin. "But look round. What do 'e think of the Curlew now?

Ain't she a beauty?"

The tug had got near enough to enable the proportions of the vessel to be seen quite distinctly.

Even to Ralph she was a graceful and pleasing sight. The long, low, black hull exhibited curves as perfect as the flowing sweep of a rainbow. The tall mast, the tapering tracery of spars, the snowy canvas and the general trim and orderly air maintained, were all attractive to the eye.

In a brief time, the tug was lying alongside and the stores transferred to the schooner's hold in short order. A dozen or more catlike sailors a.s.sisted the crew of the tug, and Ralph made himself useful.

When the tug sheered off, the boy leaning over the side of the schooner, beheld the pilot shake his head in a doubtful way as he answered Ralph's farewell wave of the hand.

"So I must look out for squalls, must I?" he reflected. "I wonder what the man meant. Never mind. I am young, stout, and I'm not afraid. So I guess I won't worry. So nice a man as Captain Gary won't see a boy put upon, I know."

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

"Come now! We don't want no idlin' or staring over the side on this craft. Come along and stow your kit and sling your hammock. Then we'll eat a bite--you and me."

Thus roused, he followed Tom Bludson into the forecastle, where a low but roomy apartment was lighted both by a swinging lamp and the daylight streaming through the narrow companionway. There was a double row of bunks on either hand and overhead were hooks to swing hammocks in the s.p.a.ce between.

Bludson unslung a hammock from the wall and tossed it to Ralph. There was a blanket inside.

"Wrap your clothes in that blanket and give the hammock a turn or two--so." The boatswain accompanied his words by showing Ralph how a hammock is folded and slung to the hooks overhead when not in use.

"Now," he added, "it's stowed for the day. When bedtime comes you must unsling and hang it as the rest do. You see there's not enough bunks for the crew, so some has to use hammocks."

After that Tom led the way to the cook's galley, a mere closet of a place just abaft the foremast. In entering one went down two or three steps. Here they found Neb (short for Nebraska), the cook, a short, fat jolly looking negro, who with his stove and cooking utensils so completely filled up the place that Ralph was puzzled to see how the man ever managed to cook at all. Every bit of s.p.a.ce was utilized, however. There were drawers and lockers under shelves and tables, while overhead were swinging racks for dishes and provisions.

"Hi, Ma.r.s.e Tom, who be dat yo' got dar? One er dese yere sh.o.r.e kids?"

"Yes, he's a sh.o.r.e kid, Neb. Him and me haven't had any dinner. Can't you shake us up a bit of something. Salt horse and skilly will do, if nothin' else is handy."

Neb was acquiescent and the boatswain and his charge were soon discussing a hearty meal with mola.s.ses, vinegar and water for a beverage instead of coffee.

After that Bludson took Ralph aft and introduced him to the second mate, Mr. Duff, a slim, active, pleasant looking young man of four and twenty, who was superintending the coiling of a spare cable in a cuddy hole beneath the wheel.

"New boy, eh," said he, giving Ralph a brief but keen inspection. "I thought the captain swore that he wanted no more boys, after Bunty gave him the slip."

Bunty, Ralph afterward learned, had run away at a foreign port with a small sum of money not his own.

"Cap'n's changed his mind then, sir," returned Tom, "He said as 'e wanted p'tickler care taken of this kid, and he was to wait in the cabin till 'e gets his sea legs on so to speak."

"What' your name?" To Ralph, then turning to the men: "Easy there. Lay her even, can't you."