# Dave Porter in the South Seas/Chapter 17
#### CHAPTER XVII
##### THE TRIP TO THE FAR WEST

"My stars! what a very busy place!"
This was Dave's exclamation as he and Oliver Wadsworth hurried along one of the streets of New York City, on the way to buy some small thing which had been forgotten. They had arrived in the metropolis an hour ahead of time, and the country boy had stared at the many sights in wonder.
"It is one of the busiest cities in the world," answered the manufacturer, with a smile. "A fortune can be made or lost here in no time."
"I believe you. And the people! Why, there is a regular crowd, no matter where you turn."
"Don't you think you'd like the city, Dave?"
"I don't know—perhaps I should, after I got used to it."
Roger and Phil had not yet come in, and they had left Billy Dill at the depot to watch out for them. On returning to the station, Dave and Mr. Wadsworth met the three at the doors.
"Here we are again!" cried Roger, shaking hands. "And not very much time to spare, either."
​"Is the train in?" asked the manufacturer.
"Will be in a few minutes, so the gateman said," answered Phil.
They saw to it that their trunks were properly cared for, and a short while after the cars came in and they climbed aboard. Seats had been engaged beforehand, so there was no trouble on that score.
"Now remember to write whenever you get the chance," said Oliver Wadsworth to Dave. "And if you run short of funds, don't hesitate to let me know."
"I'll remember, and thank you very much," replied Dave, and then the long train moved off, slowly at first, and then at a good rate of speed. Dave's long journey to solve the mystery of his identity had begun.
"Say, what mountain is this we're goin' under, anyway?" came presently from the sailor. "I noticed it when I came to New York."
"This isn't a mountain," laughed Roger. "It is New York City itself. We are under the streets."
"Great whales! Wonder they don't knock down the wall o' somebuddy's cellar!"
It was not long before they came out into the open, and then both Dave and the sailor looked out of the windows with interest. Phil and Roger were more used to traveling, and spent the time in pointing out objects of interest and in answering questions.
​The fine coach was a revelation to Billy Dill, who, in the past, had traveled exclusively in the ordinary day cars.
"These here seats are better nor them in a barber shop," he observed. "An' thet little smoking-room is the handiest I ever see. But, boys, we made one big mistake," he added, suddenly.
"What's that?" asked Phil.
"Unless we tie up to an eatin' house on the way, we'll be starved. Nobody brung any grub along."
"Don't worry about that," said Roger, with a wink at the others. "I think I can scrape up some crackers and cheese somewhere."
"Well, that's better—although I allow as how we could have brought some ham sandwiches as well as not."
They had all had dinner, so nobody was hungry until about six o'clock, when a waiter from the dining-car came through in his white apron.
"First call to supper!"
"Wot's thet?" queried Billy Dill.
"Come and see," answered Dave, and led the way to the dining-car. When the old sailor saw the tables, and saw some folks eating as if at home, he stared in amazement.
"Well, keelhaul me, if this don't beat the Dutch!" he ejaculated, dropping into a chair pointed out to him. "Reg'lar hotel dinin'-room on wheels, ain't it? Never heard o' such a thing in ​my life, never! Say, Roger, better keep that crackers an' cheese out o' sight, or they'll laugh at ye!" he added, with a chuckle.
"You never saw anything like this, then?" asked Dave.
"Never. I allers traveled in one o' them, plain, every-day kind o' trains, an' took my grub along in a pasteboard box."
Though amazed, Billy Dill was not slow about eating what was set before him, and he declared the repast the finest he had ever tasted. After the meal he went into the smoking compartment for a smoke, and then came back to the boys.
"Feelin' a bit sleepy," he announced. "I suppose there ain't no objections to my going to sleep."
"Not at all," said Phil. "Do you want your berth made up right away?"
"Humph! that's a good one!" laughed the tar. "They may have an eatin' room, but they ain't got no bedrooms, an' I know it. I'll do my best in the seat, though I allow a reg'lar long sofy would be better."
"Just you wait until I call the porter," said Roger, and touched the push-button. "This gentleman will have his berth made up," he went on, as the porter appeared.
"Yes, sah."
"Make it up with real sheets, messmate," put in ​Billy Dill, thinking it was a joke. "An' you might add a real feather piller, while ye are at it."
"Yes, sah," answered the porter, with a grin. "Please step to another seat, sah."
"Come," said Dave, and arose and took Billy Dill to the opposite side of the sleeping-coach.
The old tar dropped into a vacant seat and watched the porter as he began to make up the berths. From a smile his face changed to a look of wonder, and when he saw the clean sheets, blankets, and pillows brought forth he could scarcely control himself.
"Cables, capstans, an' codfish!" he murmured. "Thet beats the dinin'-room, don't it? Say, maybe they hev got a ballroom on board, an' a church, an' a—a—farm, an' a few more things."
"Not quite," answered Roger, with a laugh. "But there is a library, if you want any books to read."
"Beats all! Why, this here train is equipped like a regular ship, ain't she?"
"Almost," said Dave. "Here are two berths; you can take one and I'll take the other."
"Good enough, Dave. Which will ye have?"
The boy said he preferred the lower berth, and Billy Dill swung himself up in true sailor fashion to that above.
"Makes me think o' a ship!" he declared. "I know I'll sleep like a rock!" And half an hour ​later he was in the land of dreams, and then the boys also retired.
Morning found them well on their way to Chicago, and just before noon they rolled into the great city by the lakes. Here they had two hours to wait, and spent the time in getting dinner and taking a short ride around to see the sights.
"This is as far west as I have been," said Roger. "The rest of the journey will be new to me."
"I once took a journey to Los Angeles," said Phil. "But I went and returned by the southern route, so this is new to me also."
"I have never traveled anywhere—that is, since I can remember," put in Dave. "But I am sure I am going to like it—that is, if I don't get seasick when I am on the ocean."
"Oh, I suppose we'll all get our dose of that," responded the senator's son.
"Maybe not," said Billy Dill. "Some gits it, an' some don't."
Nightfall found them well on the second portion of their journey to San Francisco. There was an observation car on the train, and the whole party spent hours seated on camp-chairs, viewing scenery as it rushed past them. Now and then, for a change, they would read, and Billy Dill would smoke, and the boys often talked over what was before them.
"My father said I might tell you the object of ​my trip," said Phil to his chums. "But he does not want anybody else to know of it, unless it becomes necessary for me to say something to the captain. The supercargo of the ship is a man named Jasper Van Blott. He has worked for my father for some years, and my father always thought him honest. But lately things have happened which have caused my father to suspect this supercargo. He sometimes disposes of certain portions of a cargo, and his returns are not what they should be."
"Then you are to act as a sort of spy," said Roger.
"I am to watch everything he does without letting him know exactly what I am doing. And when he makes a deal of any kind, I am to do my best to ascertain if his returns are correct. If I find he is honest, my father is going to retain him and increase his salary; if he is dishonest, my father will discharge him, and possibly prosecute him."
"Have you ever met this Van Blott?" asked Dave.
"Once, when he called on my father two years ago. He is a smooth talker, but I did not fancy his general style. He is supposed to be a first-class business man, and that is why my father has retained him. I do not believe Captain Marshall likes him much, by the way he writes to father."
"Have you ever met Captain Marshall?"
"Oh, yes, twice. You'll like him, I know, he ​is so bluff and hearty. My father has known him for many years, and he thinks the captain one of the best skippers afloat. He has sailed the Pacific for ten years and never suffered a serious accident."
"In that case, we'll be pretty safe in sailing under him," observed Roger. "It will certainly be a long trip—four thousand miles, or more!"
"Do you know anybody else on the ship?" asked Dave.
"I do not, and I don't know much about the ship herself, excepting that she is named the Stormy Petrel. Father bought her about a year ago. She is said to be a very swift bark, and yet she has great carrying capacity."
"Will you please explain to me just what a bark is?" said Roger. "I must confess I am rather dumb on nautical matters."
"A bark is a vessel with three masts. The front mast, or foremast, as sailors call it, and the main, or middle, mast are rigged as a ship, that is, with regular yardarms and sails. The back mast, called the mizzen mast, is rigged schooner fashion, that is, with a swinging boom."
"That's plain enough. Hurrah for the Stormy Petrel! Dave, we'll be full-fledged sailors before we know it."
"We must get Billy Dill to teach us a thing or two before we go aboard," said the country boy. "Then we won't appear so green."
​This all thought good advice, and for the re mainder of the journey they frequently talked nautical matters over with the old tar. Billy Dill had his book on navigation with him, and also a general work on seamanship, and he explained to them how a ship, and especially a bark, was constructed, and taught them the names of the ropes and sails, and many other things.
"You'll soon get the swing on it," he declared. "It ain't so much to learn fer a feller as is bright an' willin' to learn. It's only the blockheads as can't master it. But I allow as how none o' you expect to work afore the mast, do ye?"
"Not exactly," answered Phil. "But there is no harm in learning to do a sailor's work, in case we are ever called on to take hold. Somebody might get sick, you know."
"Thet's true, lad—an' I can tell ye one thing: A ship in a storm on the Pacific, an' short-handed, ain't no plaything to deal with," concluded the old tar.