“What’s that!” Captain Griffith exclaimed, looking at the new boy sharply. “If you mean the supercargo, his name is Mr. Silburn. Don’t forget that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry answered quite meekly; and Kit thought that a good time for him to withdraw, when the interesting process of training a willing but conceited boy was beginning.
There was a large streak of good nature in Harry, however, as well as a stock of humor; and he felt that he had wiped out this rebuff when he went up to Kit on deck on the third day out, and, touching his hat very formally, said:—
“Mr. Silburn, the Captain wishes to see you below, sir, if you please;” then drew his left eye down into a wink that was big enough for a dozen winks, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and strutted off whistling “Yankee Doodle.”
Every day Kit was busy for some hours with his manifests, which he worked at in the afternoons now instead of the evenings. And it was fortunate for him that he wasted no time at the start; for on the eighth day, when they were expecting every moment to sight Sombrero Key, the first land since leaving New York, they ran into a little tropical hurricane that tossed up a tremendous sea, and kept Captain Griffith on the bridge for nearly ten hours without rest. He did not stop his writing when the confusion on deck told him that they were preparing the ship for rough weather; but in a few minutes his head began to ache, and he closed his eyes to rest them. Then a chilly feeling ran down the back of his neck; he felt as if he must have taken a mixture of chicken salad, mince pie, ice cream, and soda water for dinner, and began to wonder whether a siege of illness was coming on. A minute later, however, Harry Leonard ran out of the pantry, holding both hands against his stomach.
“Oh, Kit!” he cried, “or Mr. Silburn, or Supercargo, or whatever your blessed name is, I’m so sick! oh, I wish you’d let me stay at home!” and he threw himself on one of the sofas and lay moaning.
That told Kit what was the matter with him; it was no tropical fever coming on, but a plain case of sea-sickness! On his third voyage, when he had risen to be a supercargo, he was desperately seasick for the first time, simply because it was the first really rough weather he had encountered.
The heavy rolling and pitching of the ship in that howling wind and tremendous sea, the incessant rattling and breaking of dishes in the pantry, the creaking of joiner work, the shouting of orders on deck, the men running to and fro to execute them, the whir and jar of the screw when a lunge of the bow raised it out of the water, combined to give Kit his first real idea of bad weather at sea. He went on deck, and the fresh air made him feel better; and he exercised his privilege as supercargo and went up on the bridge, where he instantly saw by the anxious faces of the Captain and first officer that they were worried. He knew that the storm alone was not sufficient to put the ship in danger; but they were in the neighborhood of Sombrero and other small islands of that group, night was coming on, and as there was no sun that day for an observation they were not sure of their position, and the outlook was not encouraging.
No supper was prepared in the cabin that evening, for neither the Captain nor his mate had time to eat; but sandwiches and hot coffee were put on the table; and when the Captain came down to swallow a cup of coffee in haste he merely shook his head in reply to Kit’s questions.
Late in the evening Harry still lay groaning on the sofa, and Kit was in and out, for neither of the boys felt inclined to turn in. About eleven o’clock a terrible pounding began on deck. It sounded almost as if one of the iron masts had fallen and was rolling about the deck. First there was a thumping from port to starboard that seemed enough to crush in the deck, followed by a moment of quiet, and then, as the ship rolled again, the rolling went from starboard to port. Harry sprang up in alarm.