Read Ebook: A Cadet of the Black Star Line by Paine Ralph Delahaye Varian George Illustrator

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 101 lines and 8658 words, and 3 pages

"Not to overlook the mate," exclaimed a hearty voice behind them, and Mr. Becket's head blazed grandly in a patch of sunshine, at the foot of the companion-way. "Beg your pardon, Mr. Cochran, but we are in the stream and your boatman wants to cast off. Any orders, sir?"

"I am coming, Mr. Becket. Well, it is good-by, and God bless you, Miss Margaret, and fair winds to you, and clear skies," said Arthur, as he clasped her hand for a moment. Then he followed Mr. Becket on deck. David ran after them, and as he helped his friend overside, Arthur asked:

"Is it go or stay, with you? The longer you hang in the wind without making up your mind, the worse it will be."

"It's the hardest thing I ever had to decide," replied David. "I sort of went ahead blind, and didn't know how much this was going to mean to me."

"Father and mother and I have begun to find out that you haven't been thinking of yourself at all, from start to finish," cried Arthur. "Maybe that is why all your friends like you."

This unexpected compliment took David aback, and all he could think of to say in parting was:

"You'll hear from me by to-morrow. It's all a game of figuring out what is right to do."

David watched the boat move shoreward, until it dodged behind a string of barges, and then he returned to Margaret in the cabin. She made a gallant effort to face the issue which they had argued over and over again.

Margaret was unconvinced, as she looked up at him with affectionate pride.

"I suppose you know what is best, Davy, and I want you to succeed more than anything else in the world. Duty is a queer thing anyhow. The Cochrans think I ought to stay ashore and go to school. But I know better. There never was a wiser teacher than grandfather, and he needs me, and school must wait. And you and I could study together, Davy. Think of the months and months at sea."

She thought it cruel of him to pin her down to this kind of an answer, but she met his questions as squarely as Captain John would have done.

"The course you ought to steer, if you have to take one or the other," was her verdict.

"'Don't forget your dearest folks,' will be what I'm saying to you, David," she answered, very softly.

David moved toward the companion-way. He saw how hard it was for Margaret to keep back her tears, now that the parting was so near.

"Don't forget me, little sister," he said, and his voice faltered. "I'll be waiting for you, forever and ever, amen."

He meant more than was in his words, for the "little sister" was dearer to him in this moment than she had ever been before. But he could not tell her what was in his heart. They went on deck as Captain Bracewell called out cheerily:

"I smell a shift of wind. We shall be under sail to-morrow. Why, the breeze has painted roses in your cheeks already, Margaret. There's nothing like getting to sea again. How about it, Davy Downes? Shall I put your name on the ship's papers?"

Captain Bracewell looked at the lad with approval, as he rejoined:

"It isn't always easy to get your true bearings, my boy, and maybe I did wrong in trying to persuade you to sail with an old fogy like me. We want you bad, but we're not going to stand in your way, hey, Margaret?"

The "little sister" had nothing more to say. Her bright world was clouded, and she could not look beyond this hour. It was Mr. Becket who cheered them with his never-failing good humor. Coming aft for orders, he stood surveying the silent group as if wondering what misfortune had happened in his absence.

"Cheer up, my children," was his exhortation. "You've got what you wanted, and what more do you want? Why, I didn't look as dismal as all this when my last skipper chased me ashore, with his one whisker whistlin' in the wind."

"David is going to leave us," said Margaret, solemnly.

"And what would we do with the useless little paint scrubber aboard a real ship?" exclaimed Mr. Becket. "He's never been aloft in his life."

"But I always wanted to be the kind of a seaman my father was," confided David, grateful for the cheer of this grizzled shipmate. "And I've just left that kind of a ship-master and a vessel that made me sort of choke all up to look at her."

Next morning came fair and sparkling, with a fresh wind out of the north-west that set the harbor to dancing. The liner's decks were crowded with passengers in holiday mood. From her huge funnels poured clouds of black smoke, to tell the water front that she was eager to be free and hurrying over seas. Promptly on the stroke of ten, as if she were moved by clockwork, the decks trembled to the thresh of her giant screws, hawsers came writhing in to the rattle of donkey-engines fore and aft, and the black hull of the liner slid slowly past her pier.

"You must not loaf on deck, boy, but maybe a minute won't hurt nothings. It vas a good sight, that. I know it all. Now I hear the captain say to the mate, 'Set your jibs.' And next it is, 'Set your staysails.' And then it is, 'Loose your lower topsails.' Then the mate vill sing out to the men, 'Haul away the lee sail,' or 'Overhaul the main-top-gallant bunt-lines.' But I am an old fool and you are a young loafer. Get along mit you."

"Very smartly done. The old man must have shipped a good crew. Wonder where he got 'em? That's the way Yankee ships used to make sail when I was a boy."

"Holy schmokes, your granddaddy is gettin' up his sky-sails. He vill give us a race, eh?"

"Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea, With a yeo, ho, blow the man down, And pray pay attention and listen to me, Oh, give me some time to blow the man down."

Soon the chorus changed as the topsail yards were swayed:

"We're outward bound this very day, Good-by, fare you well, Good-by, fare you well. We're outward bound this very day, Hurrah, my boys, we're outward bound."

"All's well. Love and greetings."

"Hurrah, my boys, we're outward bound."

Captain Thrasher chanced to catch a glimpse of the lad with the radiant face, who was leaning over the rail of the deck below him. With a kindly impulse, he sent a boy to call David to the bridge.

"You can see them a little better here," said the captain. "I take it that you're pretty sorry to leave those shipmates of yours. Did you want to go with them?"

The young able seaman stood very straight, and his square jaw was firm-set, as he replied:

"Yes, sir. But I decided to stay with you."

The captain of the liner understood the boy's struggle. He made no comment, but said to one of his officers:

"Tell the quartermaster to sheer a little closer to that ship. I may want to speak her."

"If you please, sir, two of those insane steerage passengers we are deporting have broken out, and are running amuck below. The rest of the people are scared clean off their heads, and I want more help to handle 'em."

The discipline which had become an instinct with Captain Thrasher caused him to grasp at whatever assistance was nearest to save every second of time he could. He saw David at his elbow, and snapped at him:

"Down you go! Jump! I'll send more help in a minute or two."

"Don't stand like a dummy! Below with you!"

"Stand guard over these poor lunatics till you are relieved," grunted the fourth officer.

David's face turned very red, he winked hard and tried to hold back the words that rushed to his lips:

"But I must go on deck, sir. I--I--" he broke off and steadied himself with a great effort. Before the amazed officer could reply to this mutinous outburst David had come to himself. Discipline and duty took command again, and he added in a tone of appeal:

"Please forget what I just said, sir. I didn't mean to talk back. Of course I'll stay."

The officer cast a sour look at the lad, as if in half a mind to punish him. Then with a gruff "Keep your tongue in your head next time," he went away.

The disconsolate David, sulking in the steerage, was not wise enough to know that in this trying hour he was doing that which would have made his "dearest folks" happy in this big boy of theirs.

"What I ought to do, not what I want to do: that is the course Captain John and Margaret told me to steer. And here is where I belong."

For additional contact information:

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet