Within the doors he had so unceremoniously pushed open, Ned found a kind of shabby office and lounging lobby, equipped with ricketty furniture and smelling horribly of stale tobacco. The floor was littered with paper and cigar stumps and everything was dirty to a degree, a condition very offensive to the smart young Dreadnought Boy. But Ned was paying not much attention to these details. His eyes rapidly swept the room. Behind a desk, caged off from the rest of the place, a fat, flabby-looking German with a pair of huge yellow moustaches was engaged on some sort of blotty bookkeeping. His big moustaches and round, unwholesome face made him look not unlike a big walrus. On the walls hung a few pictures of old-time clipper-ships and various[51] other works of art, portraying “The Mary Anne Jennings in a Sou-wester off Ushant,” and “The American Barque Elisha J. Holmes Caught Aback off Cape Horn.” Under glass cases were curios of different kinds from the Seven Seas. Dust and grime lay thick on everything. Apparently it was many moons since a broom or soap and water had penetrated there.
The walrus-like German looked up as Ned entered, and right there Ned saw the wisdom of his move in coming in alone. The proprietor, as he guessed the man at the desk to be, greeted him with a nod.
“From der Manhattan, hein?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s my ship,” responded Ned, returning the nod. He saw at once that the man was quite unsuspicious of him and thought he was merely a foolish, weak-minded sailor out for “a good time.”
“Vell, you are velcome py der Fair Vind. Py der inside you findt plendy of your shibmades[52] from der Manhaddan. Dey are fine fellows, all off dem.”
“Yes, they are fine fellows,” thought Ned to himself, but aloud he rejoined:
“Thank you; where will I find them?”
“In der back room, my heardy. Budt say,” the walrus-like man’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Ned searchingly, “you don’t seem like der sort dot comes py me place regular.”
“No, it’s my first cruise,” rejoined Ned.
But the other was more used to sailors and navy usages than Ned had bargained for.
“Your first cruise?” he grunted with growing suspicion. “Vot you do py uniform uv cunner’s-made, den?”
“I mean it’s my first cruise to the coast,” rejoined Ned, inwardly adding, “I’ll have to be careful. This place is every bit as bad as the fellow from the New Hampshire said it was, and the proprietor is as fine a specimen of a land-shark as you’d meet with in many a long day’s cruise.”
[53]
The proprietor’s suspicions were apparently lulled by Ned’s straightforward manner.
“Go righd aheadt, mein poy,” he said paternally and waved his fat, pudgy hand toward a door in the rear of the dingy front office.
Ned made his way toward the door indicated and shoved it open. If the atmosphere in the musty office outside had been bad, the air within the room fairly made Ned gasp. It was blue and thick with wreaths of tobacco smoke from a score of pipes and cigars. The Dreadnought Boy blinked and then gave vent to a loud sneeze.
This drew general attention toward him.
“Shut that door, you long-shore swab!” yelled somebody out of the blue mist.
Ned shut it and then sneezed again. Both he and Herc abhorred tobacco in any form. They knew that the user of it cannot develop athletically. It destroys staying power and wind, and in ordinary life its effect is to diminish efficiency in any line of work.
[54]
He blinked and winked two or three times before he got used to the dense, pungent fumes and the semi-twilight. Then with difficulty he began to make out the faces of the men congregated within.
Nobody paid any attention to him and he looked about eagerly to see if he could distinguish some naval uniforms. He was not long in doing so. Six of the men he was in search of were in the place, laughing and talking as if such a thing as overstaying their leave were the lightest matter in the world.
Seated near to where Ned was standing, but with his back turned to him, was a young sailor named Childs. He was an ordinary seaman and usually a quiet, self-respecting fellow. But he had wandered into bad company. On a chair opposite to the youthful sailor was seated a well-dressed man with a hawk-like face, who was apparently trying to impress something on the young fellow’s mind.
[55]
Ned came a little closer and listened. He knew how many traps are set for Jack ashore, and he was convinced that the hawk-faced man was trying to entice young Childs into one of them. It didn’t take long to show him that he was right.
The well-dressed man was telling Childs a wonderful story about a gold-mine that he had in the Sierras, and was trying to persuade the young fellow to induce his companions to club their funds and buy some shares in it. When this had been done, he said, he would have them sent up to the fabulously rich mine, and there they could hide till the fleet had sailed and the search for them had blown over. In the meantime, by simply digging in the mine they would have become almost, if not quite, millionaires.
The foolish young sailor, as Ned could see, was drinking in this ridiculous tale with greedy attention.
“But are you sure the Navy people couldn’t locate us and get us back on board ship?” he was[56] asking. “You know a deserter gets a severe dose of punishment.”
The other waved a not over-clean hand upon which, however, a “diamond” as big as a hazelnut glittered.
“Why so timid, my lad?” he asked banteringly. “I thought all you sailors were brave and bold and—and all that sort of thing. Why, you could hide up at that mine for ten years if you wanted to and no one would ever find you. But you won’t want to hide that long. When you come out with gold galore and have your own mansion and auto, who would ever suspect that you were a runaway sailor? Who’d even dare to hint at such a thing?”
“That’s so,” agreed young Childs. “I haven’t got an awful lot of money. But I could get some from my folks, I guess, and so could some of my ship-mates.”
The eyes of the hawk-faced man glittered greedily.
[57]
“It’s a gilt-edged proposition and you can write the folks at home so,” confided the rascal to the gullible young blue-jacket. “I don’t mind telling you that if I hadn’t taken a personal liking to you I’d never have let you in on it. It’s just pure unselfishness on my part, that’s what it is. But there, I’m wealthy enough now and can afford to be a good fellow to those I take a fancy to.”
“That’s mighty good of you,” replied poor Childs warmly. “I’ll give you a deposit on ten shares now and I’ll write home for more.”
He reached for his wallet and the hawk-eyed man’s evil optics glittered.
“I don’t mind telling you,” he said impressively, “that your intellect and ability will warrant me in naming you for the Chairman of the Board of Directors as soon as we get our company incorporated and things going.”
Young Childs’ face fairly glowed.
“You arrange for another suit for me,” he said as he opened his wallet, in which reposed his[58] pay, and prepared to hand it over, “and then I’ll speak to my ship-mates about their part in it. I guess we can raise quite a sum. It does seem a big step, though, from a blue-jacket to a mining magnate. I have to thank you for that. The only thing that worries me is the chance that they may grab me before I get to the mountains.”
“No chance. Schmidt, the boss of this place, will arrange all that. He’s helped lots of sailors before now. Now hand over that money.”
“All right. I’m your man——”
“No, you’re not. You belong to Uncle Sam!” And Ned’s hand fell on the young sailor’s shoulder. “Now put back your money and come with me.”
 
“No, you’re not. You belong to Uncle Sam.”—Page 58.
Both men leaped to their feet. An angry light flashed into young Childs’ eyes as he saw Gunner’s-Mate Strong confronting him with a half-angry, half-pitying look on his firm, clean-cut features.