Fortunately Dr. Moorland had arranged all the details concerning Jack’s sailing and had forwarded his steamship ticket and stateroom reservation to him while he was still in Middlebury, otherwise he never would have made the Pringle Line pier before the sailing hour. Somewhere south of Albany a freight train had been wrecked during the night and in consequence the entire line had been tied up for three hours. The Montreal express had merely crawled along for the greater part of its journey and when Jack awoke the next morning he found to his dismay that it had many miles to go before it reached the Grand Central depot. In fact, when it finally pulled into the train shed the young traveler had a little more than half an hour in which to reach the Brooklyn dock. [27]
Valise in hand he stood on the platform of the first car when the long train rolled in. And while the brakes were yet crunching against the wheels he leapt down, to the imminent peril of a colored porter whom he nearly bowled over in his mad haste to reach Forty-second Street. Down the long concourse and through the waiting-room he hurried until he finally gained the sidewalk. There he hailed the first taxicab in sight. Pausing only a moment to give the driver hasty instructions, Jack plunged inside and immediately was being whisked through New York at top speed.
But with all this hustle and bustle he came very near to missing the boat. Indeed he was among the last aboard. All but one gang-plank had been hauled in and the few remaining visitors were being hastened ashore by the stewards when he finally gained the deck and paused to catch his breath. She was a long low white-hulled steamer that sailed under the name of the Yucatan and her seaworthiness was apparent even to Jack, who had never before set foot on a ship’s deck.
[28]
The first thing that the boy from Drueryville Academy did after locating his stateroom was to see that the wallet with its precious contents was secure in its proper place. His mind at ease on this point, he immediately returned to the deck, for he was eager to see the sights of New York harbor. The Yucatan was slipping past the lower end of Governor’s Island and the entire skyline of Manhattan was spread out before his admiring gaze. But presently, as the ship passed Tompkinsville, his attention was diverted to three huge gray vessels with queer basket-like masts that were anchored just off the Staten Island shore. He recalled that a United States Navy coaling station was located in that vicinity and concluded that this was the reason for the presence there of three of the largest of Uncle Sam’s battleships.
And as these vessels faded in the distance a new delight was revealed to him. The Yucatan was steaming down the Narrows toward the lower bay and on either bank Jack beheld the many innocent looking grass-grown terraces of Fort Wadsworth and Fort Hamilton[29] behind which the deadly disappearing guns of the harbor defense are concealed. The mere sight of these embankments with the Stars and Stripes whipping in the breeze above them made the young Vermonter thrill with patriotism, and for the first time in his life he realized fully how glad he was that Yankee blood coursed through his veins. And as he stood there almost spell-bound by this picture of silent power, some one at his elbow spoke to him.
“They look almost impregnable,” said the stranger, whereat Jack turned to find himself addressed by a tall, good looking man whose face was tanned to a ruddy brown, and whose eyes sparkled with as much enthusiasm as his own.
“Indeed they do, and I am proud of them,” our young friend replied with feeling.
“So am I, son; so am I,” said the other with equal fervor. “And every day I feel more grateful to Providence for making an American of me. You’ll appreciate it too after you have traveled in foreign lands a little while.”
Jack instinctively liked this man. He was[30] so heartily enthusiastic about America and everything American that the boy could not help but admire him. Indeed he found him decidedly interesting as a companion and they chatted away about everything in general until the Yucatan reached Sandy Hook. Here the stranger brought forth a pair of binoculars and scrutinized the beach and the Atlantic Highlands beyond until he located the object of his search. Then he passed the glasses to Jack, saying as he did so:
“Here, look at the greatest lighthouses in the world. See those two towers standing out of the foliage over there on the hill. The reflection of their lights can be seen seventy miles out at sea.”
After a search Jack found them. They appeared like the towers of some medieval castle connected by a long low brick structure.
“Are those the Sandy Hook Lights?” he queried.
“No,” said his companion, “they are officially known as the Navesink Lights. The Sandy Hook Light is that old octagonal white tower over yonder. That is one of the oldest,[31] if not the oldest, lighthouse in America. It was built by the British Government in 1764 and during the Revolutionary War the King’s soldiers used it as a military prison. Not long ago when they were making some improvements in the foundation a dungeon was unearthed in which were found several human skeletons, evidently Colonial soldiers imprisoned there and not liberated when the lighthouse was abandoned. Now if you will turn your glasses off to the right you will be able to see the Sandy Hook Lightship. That little cockleshell of a craft is there winter and summer fighting every storm and fog that comes up. She’s in competent hands, however, for the captain is a master mariner.”
Jack was exceedingly interested. He wondered how his companion came to know so much about lighthouses and lightships and several times he was on the point of asking him. This, however, was not necessary, for a few moments later the information was furnished quite voluntarily.
“By the way,” said the stranger, after Jack had finished scrutinizing the tossing lightship,[32] “I’ve neglected to introduce myself. My name is Warner, James Warner, I am supposed to be a marine engineer. You understand; a builder of lighthouses, concrete dykes and all that.”
“And I am John Strawbridge of Drueryville Academy, but since Strawbridge is a rather large mouthful I suggest you call me Jack Straw. It’s handier, you know.”
“Jack Straw, eh? Well, that’s corking,” said Mr. Warner heartily, clapping the boy on the back. “Where are you bound for, Jack? I’m on my way to Tampico. President Huerta, of Mexico, has just given me a contract to rebuild the foundation of the Lobo’s Island Light. That is one of the most important coast markings in Mexico.”
“I’m bound for Necaxa, by way of Vera Cruz and Mexico City,” said Jack, who had already begun to feel like a seasoned traveler.
“Necaxa,” exclaimed his companion; “why that’s where the big hydro-electric power plant is located. That’s where Mexico City gets its light from. Harry Ryder, the engineer in charge of the plant, is an old chum of mine.[33] In fact, we were classmates at Sheffield Scientific School.”
“Why, he’s the man I am expecting to visit there,” said Jack, somewhat surprised at the fact that Mr. Warner knew Dr. Moorland’s nephew. He refrained, however, from telling his companion the reason for his journey.
“Well, that’s mighty interesting,” replied the marine engineer. “I haven’t seen Harry Ryder in more than two years, though I’ve kept in touch with him. He’s a very capable fellow, and he deserves the honor of being in charge of the largest electric station in Mexico. He won the office, you know, about a year or so ago. President Madero held competitive examinations in Mexico City. Harry carried off the highest honors. But from what he told me he was rather hard pressed by several other good electrical engineers, both Americans and Mexicans. I guess he expected to lose his position when Huerta won the revolution and deposed Madero. But the new president reappointed him.”
Jack was greatly pleased to learn that Dr.[34] Moorland’s relative was so well liked by his former classmate. It served to increase his interest in the man whose plans he was carrying and he concluded that his visit to Mexico was destined to be very pleasant with Mr. Ryder as his host. He became silent after that, for his thoughts were far away, anticipating his sojourn in the land that Cortez conquered. The voice of Mr. Warner interrupted this pleasant mental occupation.
“Look over there on the horizon. That’s a storm cloud. I rather think it’s fixing for a blow. Do you ever get seasick?” he queried.
“Well, I’ve never had an opportunity to find out,” said Jack, “for you see this is my first experience on salt water.”
“Well, you’ll know within an hour. It’s freshening up now and before long the boat will be pitching around like a Mexican burro, a beast you are destined to become acquainted with before you have traveled in Mexico very long.”
Jack smiled at Mr. Warner’s simile, but it was not long before he noticed that the long[35] rolling swells had changed to white crested waves that pounded against the steel sides of the Yucatan with a hiss and a shower of salt spray. The pitching of the ship had increased, too, by the time he and Mr. Warner went below for luncheon. Indeed, he found it rather hard to follow his companion across the dining saloon without seeming to stagger. At the same time he began to feel very peculiarly. It was as if he had been swinging around and around so violently that he had finally become very dizzy. He tried his best to hide his feelings from Mr. Warner, hoping that he would be a little better after he had eaten. But his companion looked at him sharply as he took his seat at the table and Jack was certain that he saw the semblance of a smile about the corners of his mouth. This nettled the boy and he determined that he would master the peculiar feeling immediately. About that time, however, the waiter placed a plate of hot soup before him. Jack looked at it once and all his self-control vanished. Somehow the sight of food made him extremely[36] ill and without even the formality of excusing himself he pushed back his chair and bolted for his stateroom.
Life hardly seemed worth living to Jack Straw during the next three days for he was so ill that he could not stir out of his stateroom. The Yucatan pitched and rolled as if she was being tossed about for a plaything by some very inconsiderate giant, and it frequently seemed to the boy that the steel hull was on the point of foundering under the heavy seas that broke against it. Nor did Jack care particularly whether it did or not.
Several times he made an attempt to leave his stateroom, believing that he would feel very much better if he could only reach deck. But each time he left his berth he became so nauseated that he was glad to climb back again. Mr. Warner made three efforts to visit him but Jack had bolted the door against all intruders, including a solicitous steward who tried to persuade him to drink a cup of tea and eat some hot toast.
On the morning of the fourth day out, however, he awoke to find himself much relieved.[37] To be sure he was very weak, but the sea had gone down and walking was not the effort it had been before. He found himself able to eat a light breakfast and later he managed to reach his steamer chair into which he sank with a sigh of relief. He was not the only passenger convalescing. Indeed all the occupants of the steamer chairs were pale and weak appearing and Jack found a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that others had been affected by the storm.
The Yucatan was plowing her way through the dark blue water of the Gulf, riding the long lazy swells with graceful ease, and to Jack, who had never before been out of sight of land, the vast stretch of water was awe-inspiring. The vessel seemed small and insignificant out there all alone and he wondered how Columbus and other early adventurers had ever found courage enough to sail for weeks over untraveled seas knowing so little of their destination. In fact, how mariners could navigate a vessel even with present-day charts and equipment seemed a mystery to the boy from Vermont.
[38]
Late that afternoon while Jack was trying to get interested in a book that he had brought from his stateroom, Mr. Warner appeared on deck. “By George,” he exclaimed as he caught sight of Jack, “you’re not the boy with whom I was talking a day or so ago! Why, you look as pale as a ghost. You must have had a rather disagreeable few days. Well, we did run through something of a blow and I guess you weren’t the only one who was seasick. To tell the truth, I felt a little squeamish myself for a time.”
“I think it was about the most unpleasant sensation I ever had,” said Jack.
“You are right,” said Mr. Warner; “but most of us have to experience it sometime. Well, you are headed straight for your destination now. I expect we will reach Tampico by late to-morrow night or the following morning, and after that it is only a day to Vera Cruz. I am rather glad I came across you here, for I’ve a lot of figuring to do on some specifications I brought with me and I may not have an opportunity to see you again before I land. I’ll say good-by to you now and[39] let me wish you the very best of luck in Mexico. Be sure and remember me to Harry Ryder when you see him and tell him also that I may find an opportunity to visit him if I am in Mexico long enough.”
Jack shook his hand warmly, for he had come to like the marine engineer a great deal.
“I am sure we shall see each other again some day,” he said as they parted company.