"Dad sent down his whole outfit," explained Bob gleefully. "We're likely to get a chance for some fine shooting on the voyage. But say! Come in here a minute! This'll make you sit up, sure!"
He hastily led his chum into the smoking-room beyond. A large packing-case stood on the floor, and on the table was a small but complete moving-picture machine, at sight of which Mart gave a yell of delight.
"By golly!" he cried, examining it. "It's one o' those English things, Holly—I was reading about it last week! You take 'em around with you and—why, she's a wonder! No bigger'n a camera, either!"
In fact, the whole machine was no larger than a good-sized camera, and Mart decided on the spot that he would be moving-picture operator. It was Captain Hollinger's intention to take pictures of Kuala Besut, of his prospective gold-concession, of the whole vicinity, and of his tiger hunts if possible, and the two boys were wild over the prospect. Suddenly Mart turned as a quiet voice broke in from behind.
"Hm—hm—beg pardon, gentlemen!"
A stoop-shouldered, gentle-faced old man stood in the doorway, cap in hand. He had very watery blue eyes, his expression was mild in the extreme, and long white hair fell on his shoulders; but for his tanned, leathery skin, Mart would have taken him for an old clerk in a bank.
"Yes?" inquired Bob. "You wanted someone here?"
"Why, I was looking for the cap'n," said the old man. His voice was soft, but carried far. "My name's Smith, Jerry Smith, quartermaster."
"Oh, you're the Jerry Smith that's to sail with us!" Bob spoke in no little astonishment, for the old man looked anything but a tarry sailor. "Why, dad's gone uptown for the afternoon, Mr. Smith. I'm Bob Hollinger, and this is Mart Judson, who goes with us."
"Pleased, gentlemen," and the other jerked his head slightly, gazing around with mild interest. "That's a sight o' hardware, here in the main cabin. My stars! Is the cap'n going to shoot all those weapons, young sir?"