At the Fall of Port Arthur: or, A Young American in the Japanese Navy

"Humph! Well, I saw him talking to a lot of Russians night before last. And when they passed a Jap the whole crowd jeered at the little brown man."

"Semmel, too?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall watch him," answered Captain Ponsberry, decidedly.

"Do, but don't let him know it. Some of these foreign sailors are ugly when they find out they are being suspected."

"Trust me to manage him," returned the commander of the Columbia; and there the talk on the subject came to an end.

CHAPTER II

A STORM ON THE PACIFIC

Larry found Captain Ponsberry working over a chart on the cabin table, laying out the course of the ship. The commander of the Columbia was a bluff, hearty individual and he and the young second mate thought a great deal of each other.

"Well, what is it?" asked the captain, looking up quickly.

"I came to report that a storm is coming up from the west," answered Larry.

"Humph! I was afraid we'd catch it sooner or later. Is it close up yet?"

"It's coming up pretty fast."

Captain Ponsberry said no more, but threw down his parallel rulers and his pencil. Catching up his cap, he mounted to the deck, and the young second mate followed at his heels. The captain gave a long look to the westward and then a gaze around the remainder of the horizon.

"Tell Cal Vincent to call all hands to shorten sail!" he called out to Larry. "Tell 'em to tumble up quick, too – thet storm ain't none too far off for comfort!"

Larry passed the word to Cal Vincent, who was the boatswain of the Columbia, and soon the whistle piped up shrilly, and those who were below or in the forecastle, came on deck in a hurry. Already the wind was freshening, ruffling up the whitecaps in all directions. The sky, that had been so blue a short while before, became leaden, and the depths of the ocean took on a somber hue. The barometer indicated a great and immediate change.

"Lay aloft there, men!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "Our sails are mostly new and we don't want them ripped up if we can help it. Skip along there, Peterson!" The latter words to a big sailor who was moving across the deck at a snail's pace.

The sailor addressed, scowled. It was not his watch on deck and he hated to have his midday nap disturbed.

"Got a nail in ma boot," he said.

"Well, haul it out – after the sails are trimmed," returned the captain, and then turned to another hand: "Semmel, what's the matter with you?" This to the suspicious-looking sailor with the heavy black beard.

"Nodding," grumbled Semmel, and turned away sulkily.

"Then get a move on, or we may lose a stick as well as a sail," and there followed a perfect volley of orders in a tone that none of the sailors misunderstood. Up to the yards they crawled like so many monkeys, and soon the creaking of halyard blocks was heard, as the topsails came down. The jib and flying jib were also taken in, and a little later the main-course and the mizzen-course.

"Reckon we can stand the fore-course for a little while longer," said Captain Ponsberry to Tom Grandon. "What do you think?"

"We can, unless it comes quicker nor it is coming now," returned the first mate.

"Well, keep an eye on the wind and reef her as soon as it begins to look nasty," said Captain Ponsberry, and returned to the cabin, to finish his nautical calculations.

The Columbia had left the last of the Philippines behind and was headed north through the China Sea toward the lower extremity of Formosa. She was not as new a ship as when Larry had first boarded her at Honolulu, for since that time she had seen half a dozen years of hard service. But Captain Ponsberry was a careful man and believed in making repairs as soon as they were needed, so there was small danger of her opening her seams or going to pieces even in the stiffest of blows. She leaked a little – the best of ships do that – but a short pumping every morning kept the water at the bottom of the well.

As second mate, it was Larry's duty to see that everything on the deck was "ship-shape," and this was especially necessary when a storm was coming up. He made a tour of the ship, his keen eyes taking in every detail.

As it happened, an hour before he had set the sailor Semmel to work stowing away some odds and ends of rope. He had supposed that this task was long since finished, but now he found the ropes scattered about as before.

"See here, Semmel," he called out, "why didn't you stow away those ropes as I told you?"

"Stow dem avay in a leetle vile," answered the sailor with the heavy beard.

"You'll stow them away now," returned Larry, sharply. He did not at all fancy the manner of the hand he was addressing. "I told you to do it an hour ago. We don't want anything loose on deck when this storm hits us."

"Vincent kicked de ropes out dare," growled Semmel. "I had nodding to do mit 'em."

"That isn't here or there. I told you to stow them away, and I want you to do it. If you don't, I'll have to report you to the captain."

"Oh, I do him!" grumbled Semmel, but he glared at Larry as if he wished to chew the young second mate up. "You put all dare vork on me, hey?" he added, after a pause.

"You've got to do your share of it."

"Humph!" Semmel seemed on the point of saying more, but shut his teeth and began to arrange the ropes in proper order. Larry watched him for a moment and then walked away. As soon as his back was turned the sailor shook his fist at the young second mate.

"You vait!" he muttered. "Chust vait, you Jankee rat!"

The sky kept growing darker, and soon came a puff of wind much heavier than any that had gone before. The Columbia had been moving over the waves on an even keel, but now she gave a sudden lurch to starboard.

"Reckon it's time to take them reefs in the fore-course," said Grandon to Larry, and soon the sailors were at work on the sheets, leaving just sufficient canvas up to make the schooner mind her helm. It was hard work, for the sudden gusts made the sail snap and crack like a whip.

So far it had not rained a drop, but now came a sudden downpour, the drops "as big as hen's eggs," to use Luke Striker's manner of describing them. Then came a flash of lightning out of the western sky, followed by a rumble of thunder.

"This is going to be an old-time storm," was Larry's comment, as he met Luke Striker near the forecastle. "I'll have to get my oilskin out."

Luke already had his raincoat on and soon the young mate was similarly provided. Wind and rain were increasing, and presently there came a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that made everybody jump. The thunder brought Captain Ponsberry to the deck in a hurry.

"Did that hit us?" he questioned, looking around anxiously.

"No, sir, but it was pretty close," replied Grandon.

"Is everything secure?" went on the commander, to Larry.

"Yes, sir."

It was difficult to converse further, for the wind was now whistling through the rigging, driving the rain in sheets across the deck. All had to hold fast for fear of being swept overboard. On every side the sea was lashing itself into a foam and the waves were growing higher and higher. At one instant the Columbia would seem to be riding on top of a mountain, the next she would sink down and down into the trough of the sea.

"Well, Larry, how do you like this?" questioned Captain Ponsberry, as he took a position beside the second mate.

"Oh, I don't mind it at all," was the cheery answer. "I used to mind the storms, but I've got used to them."

"This isn't a plaything we are getting."