Part 26 (1/2)

”Here ye be, ye blamed young scamp!” he roared. ”Leavin' Mr. Gibson an'

me in the lurch in Buenos Ayres.”

”And ye missed some of the greatest whalin' ye ever see,” burst in the stroke oar of our old boat. ”We got smashed up complete once and lost boat and every bit of gear. n.o.body bad hurt, however.”

Within the next few moments I heard a deal of news. How many whales the Scarboro had butchered since I had left for Buenos Ayres (and despite Mr. Bobbin's croaking the old bark already had half a cargo in her tanks); how long it had taken Bill Rudd and his crew to patch up the hole the bull whale had smashed in the bark's side; about the gale they had run into which had carried away some of the top gear and much canvas; and what the crew had done during the week or more they had been in port at Buenos Ayres.

Then Ben Gibson came off duty and called me aft. ”Awful glad to see you, Webb,” he declared. ”I'm fit as a fiddle now. Want you in my boat again.

We took on a lout at Buenos Ayres, who's had your berth; but he isn't worth a hang in the boat. You're going to finish out the cruise, aren't you?”

”I don't expect to, sir,” I returned. ”I would have been home long ago if I had been wise. What I came down here for panned out nothing at all.”

”Well, Captain Hi will be glad to have you finish out the cruise, I don't doubt. You better go below and see him,” said the second mate.

Mr. Robbins shook hands with me before I went below and welcomed me aboard. ”We're going to make money in the old Scarboro this v'y'ge, Webb,” he said. ”You'd better stick to the bark. Captain Hi is going to discharge ile here at Punta Arenas and go into the Pacific with clean tanks.”

And so the skipper told me when I descended to the tiny chart room.

There would be a tramp freights.h.i.+p with a half cargo at Punta Arenas, he said, and it had empty tanks aboard. All that was needed was to pump the oil from the bark into the tramp's tanks.

”And we've got a good bit of bone and spermaceti, too,” said Captain Rogers. ”I consider you one of the crew still, Webb. Or, if you are so determined, you may pull out here and I will give you your hundred dollars as I promised.”

”I feel that I should go home. Captain,” I a.s.sured him. ”As I told Ben in my note back there at Buenos Ayres, my money and letters were grabbed at the consulate by another fellow----”

”Yes,” interposed Captain Rogers, beginning to hunt in a drawer, ”Ben told me about that. And I went up to the consulate and had a talk with Colonel Hefferan about it. The whole thing was a silly mistake on the part of a clerk of his--a mighty fresh clerk. He went off half-c.o.c.ked and gave the money and letters over to that fellow without saying a word to the consul himself. And they put you out of the consulate, too, I understand?”

”They most certainly did,” I replied.

”If you go to Buenos Ayres, just step in there and make that cheap clerk beg your pardon. He's ready to. And here,” said Captain Rogers, suddenly, turning toward me, ”is something that belongs to you, I believe, Clint Webb.”

There were several letters which he placed in my hand. The top one was addressed in mother's handwriting, and I seized it with a cry of delight.

”Know 'em, do you?” he said.

”This is from my mother--and this from Ham--and this one from our lawyer----”

”I reckoned they belonged to you. The crimp gave them to me with the rest of that fellow's belongings, and I took the liberty of sorting out these and saving them for you.”

”They've been opened!” I cried.

”Of course. And why the fellow kept them I don't see. They're incriminating. But he was all in when the crimp brought him aboard----”

”Who is the fellow?” gasped I, in amazement.

”Says his name's Bodfish--young lout! I took pity on him when I saw him in that crimp-shop. He had spent a pocketful of money, or had it stolen.

I suppose he is the fellow that represented himself as you at the consulate,” said Captain Rogers.

”Paul Downes!”