After supper Charley unpacked his valise and got out the silver-mounted revolver presented to him by Mr. Weston. He noted its calibre and sauntering down to the hardware store purchased several boxes of cartridges of a size to fit. He gave a couple of boxes to Walter who possessed the exact duplicate of his weapon.
"That's my first preparation for our trip," he said laughing.
But, although he spoke lightly, he was troubled by vague misgivings that their new venture was not going to be the smooth sailing his companions believed. For one thing, he doubted if rough, blunt, quick-tempered Captain Westfield was just the man to successfully handle the suave, oily, treacherous Greeks.
CHAPTER IV.
THE START.
"We have got to get a move on us," Captain Westfield said as the four chums gathered together at the breakfast table. "I've been out enquirin' around this mornin' an' I've larned that the sponging fleet sails in two days. Of course we don't have to go with the fleet, but, bein' as it's our first trip an' we're green at the business, I reckon, we had better keep with the crowd an' learn all we can. I've been up to see the United States Commissioner an' got charts of the sponging grounds an' took out papers for the ship. We're all officers on the papers, lads. He put me down as captain of the schooner, Chris is mate. You, Charley, are captain of the diving boats, an' Walter's chief engineer."
"I don't want to be no mate," Chris protested. "I wants to be de cook. Dat's schooner's got a powerful fine galley an' a sight ob pots an' kettles. Golly! I reckon dis nigger can fix up de grub better dan any of dem ignorant furriners. A mate ain't no manner ob count on board a little ship. De captain's always blamin' him for somethin' or udder an' de crew always hates him. He's always in trubble wid one or the udder. Now de cook's always his own boss, he don't hab to stay out nights in de cold an' de rain an' ebbery one is powerful perlite to him, 'cause dey wants to keep on de bes' side ob de one dat handles de grub. I'd rather be a cook dan an ole mate any day."
"But you don't know how to rig up their queer furrin dishes, lad," the captain explained. "They ain't used to eatin' grub fixed up good like you fix it."
"Golly! I reckon dat's so," agreed the little negro, pompously. "I spect dey doan know much 'bout cookin'. Reckon dey wouldn't eat any more ob der own if dey got a taste ob mine."