That afternoon they gained their last sight of land for many days, as the Seamew entered the Kamukahi Channel, passing between the green-clad hills of Niihau and Kauai, and then struck out on her straight course for the southernmost of the Philippines, with nearly five thousand miles of sea before her and seventeen days of journeying, if all went well.
For two days all went well, indeed, and then came on what Liverpool Peters described as a moderate gale, but which seemed like a hurricane to Mart. They had had fine weather so far, and Mart had long ago dismissed all thoughts of seasickness, but now he gave up completely. Bob had long since been seasoned, of course, and poor Mart suffered alone for three terrible days.
On the third day he felt sure that he was dying, but when Bob came down to the stateroom and grinningly offered him a big chunk of raw fat pork, Mart forgot his symptoms suddenly. Flinging himself out, he caught his tormentor and bore him to the floor. Bob rose with a bleeding nose, wiped the pork from his face, and fled; and Mart found that he had recovered his health suddenly. After a good meal he was himself again, and the two boys were too firm in friendship to be shaken by a good-humored "scrap" of such a nature.
Then ensued such days as Mart Judson had never dreamed of, when they got into the doldrums, the powerful engines of the yacht forcing her ahead at a steady fifteen knots through calm and glassy waters. The sun was tremendously hot, of course, but the yacht's motion created a perpetual breeze, while her awnings kept the bridge and lower decks cool.
They were far out of the course of steamers, and saw no craft of any kind, save fleets of "Portuguese men-o'-war," as Joe Swanson and the others called the jellyfish squadrons. Indeed, there was no lack of sea life all about them. Mart ate fried flying-fish for the first time in his life, and one day the Kanakas on watch set up a yell of "Shark! Him shark!"
All hands rushed out on deck for the fun. Getting in the extreme stern, Mart and Bob thrilled at sight of the dorsal fin cutting the water twenty feet astern, while the shark could plainly be seen gobbling the refuse which the cook had just flung out from the galley. His long, dirty-white body was anything but pleasant, and when he turned over to catch a morsel and his V-shaped mouth became evident, Mart felt a repulsion that was little short of fear.
The whole crew came aft in high glee, while "Liverpool" Peters, the second officer, bore an immense hook made fast to a line. Having baited the hook with a lump of pork, he flung it over the rail; the boys craned forward eagerly, and an instant later they saw the floating pork vanish in the maw of the shark.
"Pull!" yelled Peters, and the men made fast to the line. Then ensued an hour of the wildest excitement, for the shark fought gamely, but he could not bite through the big steel shank of the hook, and was finally drawn alongside. Peters finished him with a revolver bullet, and the Kanakas dined on roast shark that night.
More than once after that they caught sharks, as well as several of the pilot fish which were continually leaping beneath the bows of the yacht, while the boys managed to get good sport with smaller fish. Best of all, however, was the shooting at porpoises.
Every morning Captain Hollinger would fetch his rifles up to the chart house, and the boys would join him. There, sitting in their deck chairs beneath the awnings, they would load up the rifles and sit watching.