Part 35 (1/2)

”Think I'll keep them bottled.”

”Say 'sir,' Sport!”

”Yes, sir,” answered Farnum, his quiet eyes steady and unafraid.

”When I give an order you expect to jump?”

”Jump isn't the word.”

”Sir!” thundered Green, and ”Sir” the newspaper man corrected himself.

”Got no story to spiel about being shanghaied, son?”

”Would it do any good, sir?”

”Not unless you're aching to get what that son of a Dutchman got. See here, sport! You walk the chalk line, and Bully Green and you'll get along fine. I'm a lamb, I am, when I'm not riled. But get gay--and you'll have a hectic time. I'll rough you till you're shark-food. Get that through your teeth?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Now you trot down to the fo'c'sle and dive into them slops you find there. You got just three minutes to do the dress-suit act.”

Jeff, as he pa.s.sed below, could hear the great bull voice roaring orders to the men. ”Set y'r topsails! Jam 'er down hard, Johnnie Dago! Stand by, you lubbers!... Now then, easy does it... easy!”

Within the allotted three minutes Farnum had climbed into the foul oilskin coat and tarry breeches he found below and was ready for orders.

”Clap on to that windla.s.s, sport! No loafing here.... Hump y'rself. D'ye hear me? Hump?”

Jeff threw his one hundred and fifty pounds of bone and muscle against the crank of the windla.s.s. Some men would have fought first as long as they could stand and see. Others would have begged, argued, or threatened. But Jeff had schooled himself to master impulses of rage.

He knew when to fight and when to yield. Nor did he give way sullenly or pa.s.sionately. It was an outrage--highhanded tyranny--but at the worst it was a magnificent adventure. As he flung his weight into the crank he smiled.

Part 2

Before the trade winds the _Nancy Hanks_ foamed along day after day, all sails set, making excellent time. But for his anxiety as to the effect his disappearance would have upon the political situation, Jeff would have enjoyed immensely the wild rough life aboard the schooner. But he could not conceal from himself the interpretation of his absence the machine agents would scatter broadcast. He foresaw a reaction against his bill and its probable defeat.

The issue was on the knees of chance. The fact that could not be obliterated was that he had been wiped from the slate until after the legislature would adjourn. For every hour was carrying him farther from the scene of action.

His only hope was that the _Nancy Hanks_ might put in at the Hawaiian Islands, from which place he might get a chance to write, or, better still, to cable the reason of his absence. Captain Green himself wiped out this expectation. He jocosely intimated to Farnum one afternoon that he had no intention of calling the Islands.

”When we get through this six months' cruise you'll be a first-rate sailorman, son, and you'll get a sailorman's wages,” he added genially.

The shanghaied man met his eye squarely. ”I think I could arrange to draw on Verden for a thousand dollars if you would drop me at the Islands.”

”Not for twenty thousand. You're going to stay with us till we get to the Solomon Islands, and don't you forget it.”

Bully Green had taken rather a fancy to this amiable young man who had taken so sensible a view of the little misadventure that had befallen him, but of course business was business. He had been paid to keep him out of the way and he intended to fulfil the contract.

”Here I'm educatin' you, makin' an able-bodied seaman out of you, son.

You had ought to be grateful,” he grinned.