“Mr. Reader, allow me to present Captain Kerns.”
Captain Kerns merely grunts, and, kind Mr. Reader, you must overlook his lack of formality, because the captain is an old salt and his manners are a little briny.
In way of further explanation, I may say that the Frontier Boys are just returning from a trip to Hawaii in which they have explored the wonderful crater of Haleapala on the Island of Maui, and their ship the Sea Eagle, whose capture is another story, is pointing her prow eastward through the rough channel that separates Hawaii and Maui.
They are en route to the coast of California, and as soon as they land they have planned to make an exploring expedition into the wilds of The Sierra Nevadas, in search of a lost mine, rumors of which have come to their ears. Besides the three Frontier Boys and their comrade Juarez, there is their friend Jeems Howell, a shepherd and philosopher, from a small island off the coast of California; Captain Kerns, a retired ship’s master who was persuaded to come along merely to supervise; Jim, the oldest of the three brothers, being the acting commander, though generally referred to as skipper. And besides these, there is old Pete, an ancient mariner, the engineer, and a sturdy boy below who does a good deal of the stoking.
Besides these dramatis personæ, there is a general chorus of Mermen and Mermaids, sharks, porpoises, sea serpents et al.; as Jo Darlington would say, it was the sharks that et all. But this is no reflection upon the appetites of the boys, which was invariably good, if we may except Tom Darlington and Jeems Howell just at the present moment.
Now, on with the voyage: as the principals have been introduced and are ready, they can come to close grips with the ocean and all its dangers, so that the referee, being the writer, has made his exit through the ropes, allowing a free field and no favor. It is a tough beginning as far as sea way goes. The hour is close upon midnight in mid-channel, and that is no dream even on so staunch a little craft as the Sea Eagle.
“That time she lapped the starboard boat into the water,” yelled Jim. “Hold steady now, lads.”
Then up rose the ship on the other roll to larboard; over, over, over she went; would she never stop? Then with a straining of all her timbers, that had all the effort of severe muscular tension, she did stop, then back she rolled on the other tack which was equally as sharp, the brass balls on top of her masts pointing from star to star, describing, it seemed, almost a semi-circle.
To make it more interesting the Sea Eagle would then dip under a huge wave and the water would swish and roll aft along the main deck. The wind whistled and hummed through the taut ropes, and altogether it was a lively night, even if the sturdy old captain did discount its terrors. Occasionally Jim and Jo would slide across the bridge and bring up against the side; but as a rule they kept their sea legs in good shape.