# Dave Porter in the South Seas/Chapter 19
#### CHAPTER XIX
##### DAYS ON THE OCEAN

The weather remained fine for a full week, and with favoring winds the Stormy Petrel bowled along merrily on her course. The ocean rolled lazily in the warm sunshine, a few birds circled about the ship, and once they passed a steamer com ing from the Hawaiian Islands, and a schooner from Manila, and that was all.
"Shall we stop at Honolulu?" asked Roger, of the captain.
"No. I thought of doing so at first, but now I shall make no stops until we get to Christmas Island, and from there we will go direct to Cavasa and then to Sobago. What we do after that will depend largely on what is done about a cargo."
So far none of the boys had experienced any sea sickness, and they congratulated themselves on their escape, but Billy Dill put a little damper on their ardor.
"This ain't no weather to judge by," was his comment. "Wait till we get some cross-winds and the ships starts to roll. Maybe then ye won't be so settled in the stomach."
​The few days on the ocean had done the old tar a world of good. His eyes were brighter and he was physically in the best of health once more. His mind, too, was clearer, and one day he announced to Dave that he had something to tell.
"I ain't quite sure as I have the exact straight on 't," he began. "A little on 't is still like a dream. But I know enough to make a putty straight story," and then he told his tale.
A good portion of it was not unlike the story of many sailors. When very young, he had had a strong desire to go to sea, and at his first opportunity had shipped as a cabin boy. From cabin boy he had become a foremast hand, and had been in such service more years than he could count. He had visited nearly every portion of the globe, and had been wrecked twice, once off the coast of Africa and once while trying to round Cape Horn.
Three years before had found him at Sydney, Australia, looking for a chance to ship. While down among the wharves, he had discovered a tramp vessel, the Mary Sacord, bound for Cavasa and other islands in the South Seas, and had signed articles for a year's cruise. The captain proved to be a brute, and there was fighting on the vessel from the time she left Sydney until Cavasa was reached. There, at the main seaport, Billy Dill went ashore and refused to go aboard again.
The captain of the Mary Sacord was very angry ​over the refusal of the seaman to continue on the trip, and threatened Dill with imprisonment, and even had the old tar arrested. But, at this juncture, two men came forward and aided the sailor in his trouble, and, as a consequence, Billy Dill was set free and the vessel went on her way without him.
One of the men who had helped Billy Dill was Dunston Porter and the other was Samuel Lemington. They were both Americans and fairly well-to-do. At first, they did not tell the old sailor much about their business, but they asked him if he wished to work for them, and he said he was willing, and they offered him thirty dollars a month and all his expenses.
The two Americans, so the tar discovered later, were after a treasure of precious stones, said upon good authority to have been hidden years before in the mountains by a former cannibal king of Cavasa and some other South Sea islands. The three journeyed into the interior of the island and spent months in looking for the treasure, but without success. Then came an earthquake and the volcano in the center of the island began to grow active, and all three had to flee to the coast in order to escape destruction.
It was on this treasure hunt that Billy Dill heard, through Dunston Porter, about the lost child that had been carried off by a nurse who was not mentally sound, although usually good-hearted. ​Dunston Porter had not said very much about the mat ter, for it seemed to hurt him a great deal—so much, in fact, that the old sailor did not think it best to ask for the particulars. But he knew one thing, that, try his best, Dunston Porter could not learn what had become of the woman and the little one, and he was half inclined to believe that both were dead.
"Well, did he say that the child was his son?" asked Dave, with deep interest.
"No, it was some relative of his, I think. I don't believe Dunston Porter was married."
"When you came back to the coast, what did this Mr. Porter do?"
"He and Mr. Lemington stayed in the town, trying to make up their minds as to what they'd do next. I got a chance to ship, and, as they didn't seem to want me any more, I sailed away, and then I did as I've told you before."
This was practically all the information Billy Dill could give concerning Dunston Porter and the missing child, although he told much more concerning the treasure hunt, and of several fights with the natives of the interior. He said the natives were a bad lot, and he wanted no more to do with them than was absolutely necessary.
"How old should you judge this Dunston Porter to be?" asked Dave.
"Forty to forty-five years old, my lad."
​"Did he ever tell you where he came from?"
"Not exactly. But he was an American, and he knew a good bit about San Francisco, Chicago, and New York, and I remember he once told about hunting in the Maine woods and in the Adirondacks."
"He didn't say a word about coming back to the United States?"
"Not that I can remember."
With this information Dave had to be content. The story had been a strain on Billy Dill, and afterward he complained of a headache and of feeling dizzy. But a good night's rest restored him completely.
The sailor was at all times delighted to instruct the boys in the art of seamanship, and under his tutelage they learned rapidly, so that any of them could go aloft and make or take in sail whenever required. He also taught them how to make knots of various kinds, and many other things useful on board a ship. In the meantime Captain Marshall allowed them to read his works on navigation, and gave them a few lessons in steering, and in the use of the compass, sextant, and other nautical instruments.
"We'll be full-fledged sailors before this voyage is over," remarked Roger to his chums. "I declare, I almost feel as if I could handle a small ship already."
​"Maybe you could, on the Leming River," rejoined Phil. "But when it came to a big storm on the Pacific, I rather believe you'd find it a different story."
So far, Phil had had but little to do with the supercargo, but now he asked the man if he could look over the books. Jasper Van Blott agreed, but the scowl on his face showed plainly that the move was not to his liking. Phil went over the accounts at his leisure, but could find nothing wrong in them. There were a few entries that looked odd, but the supercargo was ready with explanations concerning them.
"Well, have you found anything wrong?" questioned Dave, after Phil had spent three days over the books.
"Nothing much, Dave," was the answer from the shipowner's son.
"The supercargo isn't very friendly, I notice."
"Oh, he hates it, that I am going on this trip," answered Phil.
There seemed to be but one man on the ship with whom the supercargo was thoroughly friendly, and that was Paul Shepley, the first mate. The pair were together a large part of the time, and their conversation was frequently an animated one.
"I can't get it out of my head that those two are working together over something," said Dave. "Why, they are as thick as bees in a sugar barrel."
​"I've noticed that, too," came from Roger. "Perhaps they are hatching up some mischief."
On the following day the weather became more unsettled, and occasionally the clouds showed themselves above the horizon. Captain Marshall gave orders to his mate that a strict watch should be kept for a blow.
"I guess we are in for it, now!" cried Dave, that afternoon. "It is much rougher than it has yet been."
"I know I am in for it," answered Roger. His face was white, and wore a troubled look.
"What's the matter, seasick?"
"I—I fancy so. My head spins like a top and my stomach is starting to do the same."
"Better go below, lad," said Captain Marshall, coming up. "It won't do you any good to remain on deck."
Roger shuffled off to the companionway, and Dave went after him. The senator's son was growing worse every minute, and it was not long before Phil announced that he also felt sick. Both went to their staterooms, and Dave did what he could to relieve their distress.
"If the old tub would only stop for a minute—just one minute!" groaned Roger.
"That's what I say," responded Phil. "Oh, dear! I'd give a hundred dollars to be on shore again!"
​"I think I'd make it a thousand," groaned the senator's son. "Why, Dave, don't you feel it at all?"
"Well, I feel a little strange," answered the country boy, but he did not add that it was because he had to stand by and assist his friends. He made them as comfortable as possible, and then rushed to the deck, to get some fresh air and to get the matter off his mind.
A storm was certainly brewing, and Dave won dered how soon it would strike the Stormy Petrel and how long it would last. The black clouds were piling up in the sky and the wind came in unsteady puffs. Below, the clear, blue water had turned to a dark green.
The first mate was in charge of the deck and, so far, he had given no orders to shorten sail. Ever and anon a sail would crack in the wind and the bark would give a plunge in the sea. Dave walked forward to where Billy Dill stood by the rail, watching the sky anxiously.
"This looks stormy, doesn't it?" questioned the youth.
"Stormy? Great dogfish! I should allow as how it did, lad. We're in for a blow, an' a big one, too."
"Then isn't it about time to take in sail?"
"I should say it was."
"Then why doesn't the mate do so?"
​At this question the old tar shrugged his shoulders.
"Reckon he wants to take the benefit o' all the breeze he can," he answered. "But it ain't the best thing to do—not to my way o' reasonin'. If he ain't keerful, we may lose a topmast, or more."
"I suppose you don't dare to say anything to him?"
"No. He's in charge, an' thet's all there is to it."
The storm continued to approach, and now several of the sailors looked anxiously at the first mate. He was evidently in a savage mood, and paid no attention to them.
"Unless he does sumthin' soon, we'll lose a stick, sure," said Billy Dill to Dave, in a low tone. "I never saw sech a contrary mate in my life!"
"Perhaps I had better speak to Captain Marshall," suggested the country youth.
"I wish ye would—it would be safer. But don't let Shepley know it—or he'll be as mad as a hornet at ye," added the old tar.
Leaving the bow, Dave hurried to the stern and toward the companionway. Here he almost ran headlong into the first mate.
"Hi! look where you are going!" ejaculated the man, roughly. "Have you no manners?"
"Excuse me," returned Dave. "Don't you think we are having a pretty big blow, sir?" he added.
​"Oh, this won't amount to much," grumbled Paul Shepley. "Nothing to get scared about."
Dave said nothing to this. He hurried below, and a moment later stood in front of Captain Marshall's stateroom door. The master of the Stormy Petrel was taking a nap, but at the boy's knock roused up instantly.