# Dave Porter in the South Seas/Chapter 18
#### CHAPTER XVIII
##### SAILING OF THE "STORMY PETREL"

As soon as the party arrived at San Francisco, Phil set out to learn if the Stormy Petrel was in port. This was easy, for the firm of which Mr. Lawrence was the head had a regular shipping office near the docks.
"Yes, she is in and almost loaded," said the clerk at the office, as soon as he learned Phil's identity. "I'll take you down to her, if you wish."
"Very well," answered the youth, and soon he and his chums and Billy Dill were on board of the bark. A gang of stevedores were on hand, bringing aboard boxes, crates, and barrels, and in the midst of the crowd were Captain Frank Marshall and Van Blott, the supercargo, both directing operations.
"Well! well!" ejaculated the captain, on catching sight of Phil. "Got here at last, eh? Glad to see you. So these are the young gentlemen to go along? Well, I reckon you'll find the trip long enough. Glad to know you, Porter, and the same to you, Morr. Yes, we are mighty busy just now. Got a little of the cargo in the wrong way—tell you ​about it later"—the last words to Phil. "I shall be glad of your company. Go down into the cabin and make yourselves at home, and I'll be with you presently."
"Thank you," answered Phil. "But is that Mr. Van Blott over yonder?"
"It is. Want to see him? Trot along, if you do." And the captain turned to his work once more.
By his general manner Captain Marshall showed that he did not wish to come into contact with the supercargo just then, and Phil walked over to that personage alone. The supercargo was a tall, thin individual with a sallow face and a thin, yellowish mustache.
"This is Mr. Van Blott, I believe," said Phil.
"Yes," was the short and crusty answer, and the supercargo gave the boy a sharp look.
"I am Phil Lawrence. I guess you do not remember me?"
"Oh!" cried the supercargo, and his manner changed instantly. "How do you do? I didn't think you'd be here quite so soon. I hope your father is well?"
"Yes, sir. Then you got his letter, Mr. Van Blott?"
"Yes, this morning. I haven't read it very carefully yet. He said something about you helping me, if I needed help. Well, I won't bother you ​much. I have done the work alone in the past, and I can do it now."
"I am willing to do all I can to assist you," said Phil, politely.
"I don't doubt it. But I won't trouble you—so you and your friends can just lie back and enjoy yourselves," returned Jasper Van Blott, smoothly. "No use in working, when you are on a vacation."
"Oh, I shan't call it work. I want to learn a little about the business. Some day, you know, I am to go into my father's office."
At this a slight frown crossed the supercargo's face, but he quickly smiled it off. "As you please," he said. "But excuse me now, I'm very busy. We are trying to get ready to sail to-morrow by noon, and there is still a great deal to do."
In some way Phil felt himself dismissed, and he rejoined Dave and Roger, who were standing by the companionway. All went below, to find the cabin of the Stormy Petrel deserted.
"This is a fine cabin," remarked Dave, gazing around. "It's as cozy as can be."
"Where is Billy Dill?" asked Phil.
"He said he'd go forward and await orders."
"Did he say anything about the vessel?"
"Said she looked to be a first-class sailer and in prime condition," answered the senator's son. "He was delighted with her."
"What do you think of the captain?"
​"I think I shall like him," returned Dave. "Roger thinks the same."
"I don't like that supercargo," went on Phil, lowering his voice. "I am afraid I shall have trouble with him before the trip is over. He doesn't want me to know a thing about what he is doing."
A little later Captain Marshall came in and showed them the staterooms they were to occupy—one fair-sized one for Dave and Roger and a smaller one adjoining for Phil. Then he introduced the boys to his first mate, Paul Shepley, and to several others. When he got Phil by himself he asked the youth if the supercargo had said anything about the loading of the bark.
"Not a word," answered Phil. "Why do you ask that question?"
"We had some trouble just before you came on board. Mr. Van Blott wanted some things done one way and I wanted them another. He thinks he can run things, but I am going to let him understand that I am master here. I tell you this, because I want you to understand how matters are going."
"From what you say, I don't think you like Mr. Van Blott," said Phil. "If so, let me say, I don't think I shall like him myself."
"Oh, I can get along with him, if he will mind his own business and do what is right," answered ​the captain of the Stormy Petrel. "But he must not attempt to dictate to me, even if he is the supercargo."
"Well, I trust we have no trouble," answered Phil, with a sigh. But the trouble, he felt, was already in the air.
Late that afternoon their baggage came on board, and the boys set to work to establish themselves on the ship which was to be their home for so many weeks to come. In the meantime Billy Dill reported to the captain, and was assigned to his place in the forecastle as an extra hand at full pay. The old tar was pleased mightily, and the smell of oakum and bilge water appeared to act on him like a tonic. He was one to make friends readily, and soon established himself as a favorite among the foremast hands.
In the morning the boys took a final run ashore, purchasing a few things they thought they needed and mailing some long letters home. Coming back to the bark, they caught sight of the supercargo coming, with another man, from a drinking place on a corner.
"Humph! that shows he drinks," muttered Phil.
"I think most seafaring men do," answered Roger.
"Captain Marshall does not."
They had to pass the supercargo, who stood on the corner with his back to them, talking to the ​other man. Just as they went by, they heard Van Blott remark:
"Don't worry; this trip is going to pay me big, Bangor, and when I come back you shall have all that is coming to you." This was all the three boys heard, but it set Phil to thinking.
"I'd like to know how this trip is going to pay him big," said the shipowner's son. "Father says he gets his regular salary and a small commission."
"Perhaps he has some private deal he wishes to put through," suggested Dave.
"No; by his agreement he has no right to do any outside work. His time belongs exclusively to the Stormy Petrel and her cargo."
They returned to the bark, and quarter of an hour later the supercargo followed, with a flushed face that showed he had been imbibing more liquor than was good for him.
"Are you ready to sail?" demanded Captain Marshall, striding up.
"All ready," was the surly response, and the supercargo walked down to his stateroom and disappeared.
Orders were given to cast off, and in a very few minutes the bark was on her way from San Francisco Bay toward the Golden Gate. It was a perfect day, and by nightfall the harbor was left behind and land became a mere speck in the distance.
​The first night on the bark passed pleasantly enough for the three chums. At first the quarters on the vessel appeared small to them, but they soon grew accustomed to the change. All slept soundly and they were out on deck very shortly after sunrise.
"Well, how do you like life on Mother Carey's Chicken?" asked Phil, when they were gazing at the rolling ocean.
"Mother Carey's Chicken?" repeated Dave, with a puzzled look.
"Oh, I know what he means!" cried Roger, with a laugh. "A stormy petrel is a bird that the sailors call a Mother Carey's chicken."
"What a name! I think I like Stormy Petrel better," observed Dave. "But, I say, isn't this just grand! A fellow can open his lungs and drink in ozone by the barrel!"
"And hardly a cloud in the sky," added Roger. "If this is any criterion, we'll have the finest kind of a trip."
"Well, boys, I see you are up on time," came from a little behind them, and now Captain Marshall strode up. "Fine sea this, and a fine breeze, too."
"How long will this nice weather last?" asked Roger.
"Humph!" The captain humped his shoulders. "No man alive can tell that. A few days, at least, ​maybe a week or more. But, sooner or later, we'll pay up for it. The finer the weather, the bigger the storm to follow."
"I shouldn't mind an ordinary storm," observed Dave. "But I don't want to be wrecked."
"No danger of that, lad. The Stormy Petrel can outride any storm likely to blow in these parts. She is one of the best vessels I ever sailed in—a man couldn't ask for a better."
"How much of a crew have you, Captain Marshall?" asked Phil.
"I have sixteen men, all told, besides the tar you brought along." The brow of the shipmaster wrinkled slightly. "They are all pretty fair men, too, excepting four, and those four Mr. Van Blott brought in."
"What's the trouble with the four?"
"They drink, and they don't mind as they should." Captain Marshall turned to Phil. "After breakfast, I'd like to talk to you on business in the cabin," he added.
This was a hint that Dave and Roger were not desired, and, accordingly, after the meal they left Phil and the captain alone.
"I've been studying your father's instructions to me," said Captain Marshall to Phil. "As I view it, you are to be a sort of assistant to Mr. Van Blott."
"If he will allow it."
​"And if he won't?" The captain gazed at Phil sharply.
"Then, perhaps, I'll do something on my own account."
"Are you going to keep your eye on him?"
"Yes, but you need not tell him so."
"Don't worry—I shan't open my mouth, Philip. I am glad to hear of this, for, I tell you privately, Van Blott needs watching. He is a sly dog, and I am satisfied in my own mind that he has something up his sleeve."
"Do you know a man named Bangor in San Francisco? He was with Mr. Van Blott just before we sailed."
"Ah! I thought so! Yes, I know him, and his reputation among shippers is none of the best. He used to be a supercargo for the Donaldson-Munroe Company, but they discharged him for some crooked work. What were he and Van Blott doing?"
Phil told of what he had overheard.
"That confirms my idea exactly!" cried the captain of the Stormy Petrel. "There is something in the wind. You must watch out, by all means, and I'll do the same. This man must not be allowed to do anything wrong, if we can possibly prevent it."