Part 12 (2/2)

Why, the s.h.i.+p was not yet at sea, and in all the clutter of charging. He began to answer back. In a moment it was a quarrel. Abruptly it was a fight. The mate marked Selover beneath the left eye. The captain with beautiful simplicity crushed his antagonist in his gorilla-like squeeze, carried him to the side of the vessel, and dropped him limp and beaten to the pier. And the mate was a good stout specimen of a sea-farer, too.

Then the captain rushed below, emerging after an instant with a chest which he flung after his subordinate. It was followed a moment later by a stream of small stuff,--mingled with language--projected through an open port-hole. This in turn ceased. The captain reappeared with a pail and brush, scrubbed feverishly at the offending spot, mopped it dry with that same old red bandana handkerchief, glared about him,--and abruptly became as serene and placid as a noon calm. He took up the direction of the stevedores. It was all most astounding.

n.o.body paid any attention to the mate. He looked toward the s.h.i.+p once or twice, thought better of it, and began to pick up his effects, muttering savagely. In a moment or so he threw his chest aboard an outgoing truck and departed.

It was now nearly noon and I was just in the way of going for something to eat, when I caught sight of another dray laden with boxes and crated affairs which I recognised as scientific apparatus. It was followed in quick succession by three others. Ignorant as I was of the requirements of a scientist, my common sense told me this could be no exploring outfit. I revised my first intention of going to the club, and bought a sandwich or two at the corner coffee house. I don't know why, but even then the affair seemed big with mystery, with the portent of tragedy.

Perhaps the smell of tar was in my nostrils and the sea called. It has always possessed for me an extraordinary allurement----

A little after two o'clock a cab drove to the after gangplank and stopped. From it alighted a young man of whom I shall later have occasion to tell you more, followed by Dr. Schermerhorn. The young man carried only a light leather ”serviette,” such as students use abroad; while the doctor fairly staggered under the weight of a square, bra.s.s-bound chest without handles. The singularity of this unequal division of labour struck me at once.

It struck also one of the dock men, who ran forward, eager for a tip.

”Kin I carry th' box for you, boss?” he asked, at the same time reaching for it.

The doctor's thin figure seemed fairly to shrink at the idea.

”No, no!” he cried. ”It iss not for you to carry!”

He hastened up the gangplank, clutching the chest close. At the top Captain Selover met him.

”h.e.l.lo, doctor,” he squeaked. ”Here in good time. We're busy, you see.

Let me carry your chest for you.”

”No, no!” Dr. Schermerhorn fairly glared.

”It's almighty heavy,” insisted the captain. ”Let me give you a hand.”

”You must not _touch!_” emphatically ordered the scientist. ”Where iss the cabin?”

He disappeared down the companionway clasping his precious load. The young man remained on deck to superintend the stowing of the scientific goods and the personal baggage.

All this time I had been thinking busily. I remembered distinctly one other instance when Dr. Schermerhorn had disappeared. He came back inscrutably, but within a week his results on aerial photography were public property. I told myself that in the present instance his lavish use of money, the elaborate nature of his preparations, the evident secrecy of the expedition as evidenced by the fact that he had negotiated for the vessel only the day before setting sail, the importance of personal supervision as proved by the fact that he--notoriously impractical in practical matters, and notoriously disliking anything to do with business--had conducted the affair himself instead of delegating it,--why; gentlemen, don't you see that all this was more than enough to wake me up, body and soul? Suddenly I came to a definite resolution.

Captain Selover had descended to the pier. I approached him.

”You need a mate,” said I.

He looked me over.

”Perhaps,” he admitted. ”Where's your man?”

”Right here,” said I.

His eyes widened a little. Otherwise he showed no sign of surprise. I cursed my clothes.

Fortunately I had my master's certificate with me--I'd pa.s.sed fresh-water on the Great Lakes--I always carry that sort of doc.u.ment on the chance that it may come handy. It chanced to have a couple of naval endors.e.m.e.nts, results of the late war.

”Look here,” I said before I gave it to him. ”You don't believe in me. My clothes are too good. That's all right. They're all I have that are good.

I'm broke. I came down here wondering whether I'd better throw myself in the drink.”

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