I may well speak with authority in this connection, because it was our ship, the Seagull, which first arrived at the scene of the disaster and rescued the passengers and crew of the ill-fated Karamata Maru from their imminent peril So I shall tell you the story in my own way, as it has an important bearing on the extraordinary events that afterward took place—events which have led me to write this book, and place on record a series of adventures so remarkable as to have been seldom if ever equalled.
To begin with, I beg to introduce myself as Sam Steele, of Chelsea, Massachusetts, eighteen, years of age and filling the responsible position of purser and assistant supercargo on the trim little merchantman yacht, the Seagull. Indeed, I am one of the three owners of our ship, the others being my father, Captain Richard Steele, and my uncle, Naboth Perkins. My father is a seasoned and experienced seaman, who has sailed in nearly every navigable part of the world. My uncle is an expert trader and an honest man—a combination that accounts for his great success in his profession.
Circumstances placed me on shipboard at an early age, and in the course of several long and eventful voyages I have encountered many adventures and queer happenings that have made me richer in experience than most young fellows.
One may remain modest and unassuming, I think, and still bear witness to the truth of adventures in which he has participated. It is not because I love to speak of myself that I am telling my own story, but because I have full knowledge of those events in which I bore a personal part, and so am qualified to relate them. And you will discover, when I have finished the tale, that I have not posed as a hero, but merely as a subordinate actor in the drama—what, I believe, is called a “walking gentleman” or “general utility man” in theatrical parlance. The theatre being, at its best, a reflection of real life, the illustration is permissible.
It will be necessary to tell you something about the company assembled aboard the Seagull when she began her voyage from San Francisco early in May to carry a cargo of mixed merchandise to Canton, China.
The Seagull has no regular itinerary, but sails a free lance in any sea and to any country where it may be profitable for her to go. Both my father and Uncle Naboth have adventurous natures, and prefer to let fate direct their future rather than attempt to plan a succession of tedious and uninteresting voyages which might mean surer gain but would afford less excitement. This has resulted, however, in a neat fortune for each of the Seagull’s three owners, and our success has encouraged us to persist in our eccentric methods. In the merchant service our beautiful ship is dubbed a “tramp,” and I and my chums are called “the Boy Fortune Hunters,” Uncle Naboth “the Yankee Trader” and Captain Steele “crazy old Peg-leg,”—because poor father has really a wooden leg, which in no way, however, renders him less able as a skipper. But we laugh at this harmless raillery and, well knowing that we are envied by many who thus banter us, pursue our own way with unconcern.
So it happened that after a prosperous voyage around the Horn, to deliver a valuable cargo of tin-plate to the great canning factories of Oregon and Washington, we had barely anchored in the bay at San Francisco before we received a commission to sail to Canton with a cargo of merchandise. This suited us all; but none better than me, for I had long desired to visit China, Japan and the Philippines. Also it suited Joe Herring, our cabin boy and my particular friend; and it suited Archie Ackley, a well-to-do young fellow who had sailed with us on a former voyage and passed as my chum. Archie was a reckless, adventurous sort of chap, and had made the trip around the Horn on the Seagull to give a broken leg time to knit perfectly, the said leg having been damaged in a foolish wrestling bout.
I am sure you would shake your head dubiously if I were to recount all of the characteristics of this youth which had endeared him to our little ship’s company. I should be obliged to say, for instance, that Archie was stubborn as a mule, conceited as a peacock, reckless of all conventionalities, and inclined to quarrel and fight on the slightest provocation. But I should hasten to add that he was brave as a lion and tender as a woman to those he loved. His loyalty had been fully proven on the occasion of that former voyage to which I have referred, when he accompanied us to Egypt and won our hearts completely.
Archie was about my age; but Joe, our cabin boy, was a little younger, and as staunch a friend and queer a character in his way as you will ever be able to find on this astonishing earth.
Joe is rich. He could purchase a mate to the Seagull and never feel the expenditure. He could sail on our craft, if he chose, as an honored guest; but he prefers to remain a cabin-boy. Yet, in truth, there is little caste among us, and if Joe prefers to have duties to occupy him during a voyage, and fulfils those duties admirably, no one admires him less for that reason. Captain Steele slaps him on the shoulder as fondly and familiarly as he does Archie or me, and fat little Uncle Naboth locks arms with Joe and promenades the deck with him for hours.