"Well, he hopes to," grinned Mart easily, shoving back the mop of black hair from his brow. "Going to take moving pictures, too. I'm the wireless operator."
"Eh?" Jerry Smith looked astonished. "Why, young sir, that is surprising! I did not know we—we were going to have a wireless operator!" His watery eyes blinked a little, and his soft voice dropped to a deeper tone. "Well, well! And I was just about your age, I imagine, when I first put to sea!"
Mart hoped for a moment that the old man was going to spin a yarn, but instead he only heaved a sigh and mopped at his nose with a huge bandanna.
"Well," he said to Bob, "I'm sorry to miss your father, young sir. And would you please to tell him that the crew'll come aboard to-morrow night, and that I'll be aboard afore then with the papers? I'll have to sign on as quartermaster, you know, and the cap'n—"
"Eh?" Bob struck in with a frown. "Why, you're going as a guest, Mr. Smith! Dad doesn't want you to sign on at all."
"Just Jerry, if you please!" the old man smiled quietly. "Jerry is my handle, young sirs, just Jerry. About signing on, now. I've never put to sea yet, young sirs, but what I've been entered shipshape and Bristol fashion, and I'm not going to start wrong at this time o' life. I want to be on the ship's articles as quartermaster, that's all—that's all. I got my discharges all proper, and if we should lose an officer, I've got a first officer's ticket. I don't want any wages, young sirs, but I want to be signed on all shipshape. It'll make me feel a sight better. You'll tell the cap'n that?"
"Why, sure!" returned Bob heartily. "And I'm glad to meet you, Jerry. You'd better keep in mind that I'm Bob, or Holly—either one hits the right spot—and I don't like that 'young sir' business."
"Nor me," put in the gray-eyed boy, stepping forward with his hand out. "I'm plain Mart, without any Mister either, Jerry, and I'm glad to meet up with you."
The three shook hands. Mart noted that old Jerry had a very strong chin and a tight-lipped mouth, for all his gentle appearance, and his hands were very gnarled and knotted. His dress was old and weatherstained, but had nothing of the sailor in it. Mart had seen enough of sailors along the waterfront, however, to know that clothes do not count in such cases.
With a final duck of his head, Jerry Smith turned and shuffled away.