Excerpt
THE VOYAGE IS BEGUN
“A-a-ll ha-a-ands! Up anchor! A-ho-oy!”
Instantly all was bustle and action on board the brig Josephine. The sailors ran hither and thither, the sails were loosed and the yards braced. The clanking of the windlass soon told that the anchor was being raised.
“Whew! I never saw so much excitement and hurry in all my life,” exclaimed a boy, who with three companions stood on the deck of the brig and looked on at these activities without actually taking part in them themselves. The speaker was Fred Button. He was a tiny little fellow, known affectionately among his friends as Stub, or Peewee or Pygmy. This last name was frequently shortened into Pyg, much to Fred’s disgust, though he had learned better than to lose his temper because of teasing or little things that did not just suit him. He had given up such foolishness long ago.
With his three companions he had embarked on the Josephine for a voyage to Buenos Aires in South America. The lure of the sea had attracted these four boys and the desire to see something of foreign lands had spurred them on. They were on board in the capacity of passengers though it was also their desire to help the crew in whatever way they were able.
Standing beside Fred Button was John Clemens, a boy who was as unusually tall as Fred was short. He was extremely thin, however, and with his six feet three inches of height he looked like a string, according to his friends. In fact that was what they usually called him.
Next to him was Grant Jones. Grant was about eighteen, the same age as the other three boys though he was their leader in a great many ways. No matter what he attempted he always did it well. In school work he usually led his class and on the athletic field he far outshone the others. His talents had won him the nickname of Socrates which, however, was usually shortened to Soc. “Old Soc Jones” was always a favorite.
The fourth member of the group was George Washington Sanders. He was always good natured and his witty remarks had made him intensely popular with all who knew him. In honor of the name he bore he sometimes had been referred to as the father of his country, which appellation, however, had finally been corrupted to Pop.
“It certainly is busy around here, isn’t it?” exclaimed Grant Jones in response to Fred Button’s remarks previously referred to.
“And it’s all mystery to me,” added John Clemens. “These orders being shouted and the strange things the men are doing are getting me bewildered.”
“I’ve been standing here expecting some one of the sailors to mistake you for a mast and hang a sail on you any minute, String,” said Pop Sanders slyly, at the same time nudging Fred Button.
“Is that so?” exclaimed John Clemens quickly. “At any rate, I’d rather be the shape of a mast than a bag of ballast.”
“That’s the way, String,” said Grant Jones encouragingly. “Don’t let him get the better of you.”
“He never has and he never will,” said John complacently....