And get busy they did, with the result that after a great deal of humming and hawing and backing and filling, the longed for consents were more or less reluctantly given. The boys’ delight knew no bounds, and it was a hilarious group that made things hum on the Overland Limited, as it climbed the Rockies and dropped down the western slope to the ocean. The world smiled upon them. Life ran riot within them. They had no inkling of how closely death would graze them before they even set foot upon their ship. Nor did they dream of the perils that awaited them, in days not far distant when that ship, passing through the Golden Gate, should turn its prow toward the East and breast the billows of the Pacific.
[CHAPTER II]
An Unexpected Meeting
The “Fearless” was a smart, staunch ship of about three thousand tons—one of a numerous fleet owned by the line of which Mr. Quinby was the manager. She had been built with special reference to the China trade, and was designed chiefly for cargoes, although she had accommodations for a considerable number of passengers. She was equipped with the latest type of modern screw engines, and although she did not run on a fixed schedule, could be counted on, almost as certainly as a regular liner, to make her port at the time appointed. Everything about the steamer was seamanlike and shipshape, and the boys were most favorably impressed, as, under the guidance of Captain Manning, they made their way forward. Here they were introduced to the first and second officers, and then shown to the quarters they were to occupy during the voyage.
Like everything else about the ship, these were trim and comfortable, and the boys were delighted to find that they had been assigned adjoining rooms. By the time they had washed and changed their clothes, it was time for supper, and to this they did ample justice. They were valiant trenchermen, and even the narrow escape of the afternoon had not robbed them of their appetites.
“You’d better eat while you can, fellows,” laughed Bert. “We sail to-morrow, and twenty-four hours from now, you may be thinking so little of food that you’ll be giving it all to the fishes.”
“Don’t you worry,” retorted Dick, “I’ve trolled for bluefish off the Long Island coast in half a gale, and never been seasick yet.”
“Yes,” said Bert, “but scudding along in a catboat is a different thing from rising and falling on the long ocean swells. We haven’t any swinging cabins here to keep things always level, and the ship isn’t long enough to cut through three waves at once like the big Atlantic liners.”