Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XXI
CAVASA ISLAND AT LAST

Phil and Roger heard the conversation between Dave and the old sailor, and it worried them so much that they hurried below, to learn what might be going on.

"We must shift that part of the cargo first," came from the ship's carpenter. "Then, I think, I can do something, but I am not sure."

Captain Marshall at once ordered the cargo shifted as desired. This did not please the supercargo, but the master of the vessel paid no attention to Van Blott's objections.

"It is a question of keeping the ship afloat, Mr. Van Blott," said he, coldly. "If necessary, I'll have the whole cargo heaved overboard."

"But, sir – " commenced the supercargo.

"I can't talk about it now. My duty is to save the ship. Do you want to go to the bottom of the ocean?" And Captain Marshall spoke in such a decided way that Jasper Van Blott sneaked off and said no more for the time being.

A portion of the crew came below, and not without difficulty a number of heavy boxes and casks were shifted. Then the ship's carpenter and an assistant went to work to tighten up the seams, through which the water of the ocean was spurting furiously. It was a difficult and dangerous task, and it lasted the best part of three hours. But, at last, the workers got the better of the elements, and then the water went down steadily in the ship's well, as the men at the pumps continued their labors.

"Will the ship pull through?" asked Phil, of the captain.

"Yes, my lad, I think we are safe now – unless the blow makes us open some more seams."

After the repairs below had been made and the alarm had passed, Captain Marshall called the first mate to his side.

"I thought you said those seams were all right when we were at the dock at San Francisco," he began.

"They looked all right," mumbled Paul Shepley.

"You couldn't have examined them very closely."

"I did."

"Humph! After this I had better look to things myself," was the captain's comment, and he moved away.

A little later the supercargo and the first mate met in the waist. The storm was now dying down rapidly, and it looked as if the sun would soon break through the clouds.

"Well, I see you had another run-in with the old man," remarked Van Blott.

"So did you."

"You mean about the cargo?"

"Of course."

"Well, I didn't want him to nose around too much," and the supercargo grinned.

"Afraid he might run across some of that private stuff?"

"Hush! Somebody might hear you, Shepley. What was your row about?"

"He laid the opening of the seams on my shoulders – said I didn't inspect things properly at San Francisco."

"He seems to be getting harder than ever on us."

"That's it, and I am done, after this trip," growled the first mate.

"So am I – if I can make my little pile."

"That's what I mean. Van Blott, we must do it, too."

"I expect to, but it isn't going to be so easy as we thought. The owner of the ship has sent his son to watch me, and he and those other lads are rather clever."

"Pooh! you are not afraid of those boys, are you?"

"It isn't that. I'm afraid they'll discover something and take the news to the old man."

Here the talk had to come to an end, and the two men separated, promising to meet in the evening. That they had some scheme they wished to work, there could not be the slightest doubt.

By nightfall the storm was at an end, and the sun set in a perfect blaze of glory. Of the gale only a stiff breeze remained, and Captain Marshall lost no time in setting his sails as before. All the loose seams had been mended and the Stormy Petrel now took in no more water than was usual with her, and is usual with ordinary sea-going craft.

"I am glad that is over," remarked Phil, the next day, after a fair night's sleep.

"So am I, and I never want to experience another such storm," came from Roger.

"How do you both feel?" asked Dave.

"My seasickness is gone, thank goodness," answered Phil.

"Ditto here," said the senator's son. "Dave, you are a lucky dog, to keep so well," he added, a bit enviously.

"Perhaps it will be my turn next time, Roger."

After that the Stormy Petrel continued on her course for many days with but little out of the ordinary happening. Once or twice the boys had some sharp words with the first mate, and Phil had a "tiff" with the supercargo, but nothing like an open quarrel ensued. Yet the flames were smoldering, ready to break out at the first opportunity.

"Those two men hate us worse than poison," said Dave, one day. "I can see it plainly."

"That supercargo has it in for me," replied Phil. "I wish I could let my father know just how he is acting. He'd soon lose his situation."

They were now near the equator, and the weather was very warm, and would have been unendurably hot, had it not been for the constant breeze that was blowing. Nobody cared to do much in such an atmosphere, and the three boys were content to sit around or loll in hammocks suspended in shady portions of the deck. The broiling sun started the tar from the seams, and the odor therefrom was almost overpowering.

"I wish we had an ice-making machine on board," said Roger, as he fanned himself. They had taken ice along, but the supply was running low, and he could not get quite as much as he desired.

"Never mind, we'll have a run ashore soon," said Dave. "That will be something of a change."

He had in mind the stop at Christmas Island, a small body of land belonging to England and lying in the Pacific, close to the equator. The island was sighted the next day, and they made a landing and roamed around for three hours, while some fresh water and other things were taken on board. Then, by nightfall, the bow of the Stormy Petrel was once more headed for the southwestward.

"Now we are in southern seas," cried Dave, one day, after the equator had been left behind. "I suppose we'll begin to sight some of the numerous islands before long."

"I shan't mind sighting the islands, but I don't want to run on some hidden reef," returned Roger. "The charts show a great number of reefs in this portion of the ocean."

Once more the days slipped by. It was fearfully hot, and the boys did not move, excepting when it was absolutely necessary. Occasionally they would sit at the bow and Billy Dill would tell them stories of the sea and of sights in foreign lands. He now said that he felt as of old.

"I was born for the sea," he observed. "It was a mistake for me to travel all the way across land to Oakdale, an' I reckon I got punished fer it."

"I am sorry you suffered, but I am glad I had the chance to meet you," answered Dave. "It may mean a great deal to me, you know."

"Thet's true, Dave. But take my advice an' don't depend upon it too much. I'd hate awfully to see ye disapp'inted."

"Yes – but I wish we were at Cavasa Island," said the country boy, wistfully.

The nearer the ship drew to the island mentioned, the more anxious did he become, although he did his best to conceal his feelings. But Phil and Roger understood.

"I sincerely hope Dave isn't disappointed," said the senator's son, when he and Phil chanced to be alone. "Think of coming such a distance as this on a wild-goose chase!"

"Well, it was the only thing to do," answered the son of the bark owner. "You and I would have done the same."

"I don't doubt it. But, look at it from every point of view, it is an odd situation. I only hope this Dunston Porter is still at Cavasa Island, or in that vicinity."

At last came the day when Captain Marshall called the boys to him and said they might sight Cavasa Island inside of the next twenty-four hours.

"You'll know the island at a glance," said he. "Approaching it from this side, it looks exactly like a long loaf of bread with a hump in the middle. The hump is the old volcano. The town at which we are to stop is located at the western extremity of the island. There is where the real shipping is done. There is a town at the eastern end, but the harbor is poor, and most of the inhabitants are natives."

"And what of the people where we are to stop?" asked Dave.

"About one-half are natives and the others a mixture of Americans and Europeans. The harbor there is a very good one indeed, and that is why it is so popular."

As they neared Cavasa Island, both the supercargo and the first mate appeared to grow more than ordinarily anxious, and talked together by the half-hour. Dave noticed this and so did the others.

"They have something in mind," said the country boy to Phil. "You'll surely have to be on guard when the cargo for Tolao is taken ashore."

The next day the boys kept on the lookout, having borrowed Captain Marshall's best glass. About noon Roger uttered a loud cry:

"I see something! It must be the island!"

"Let me look!" exclaimed Dave, and took the glass. "Yes, it is Cavasa Island!" he went on, "for it looks exactly as the captain said."

Inside of an hour they could see Cavasa Island quite plainly, and by nightfall they were ready to enter the harbor. But this was not to be accomplished in the dark, and so they had to remain outside until daybreak, impatient as Dave was to get ashore.

"What an odd collection of ships!" said Phil, as the Stormy Petrel made her way into the harbor. "They must have come from all parts of the world!" And this remark was largely true.

It had been arranged that Dave and Billy Dill should go ashore at the first opportunity, and Roger was to go with them.

"I am sorry I can't go," said Phil, to Dave. "But, you understand how it is," and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the supercargo, who was writing in one of his books.

"Yes, I understand, Phil," answered Dave. "I hope you don't have any trouble."

The shipping of Tolao was very much huddled together, and the boys had to depend upon Billy Dill to pilot them to the main thoroughfare of the town. The old sailor declared that the place had changed but little since his last visit, and said he would take them directly to the hotel at which Dunston Porter had been in the habit of stopping.

"All right," said Dave. "You can't get there any too quick for me," and they walked on, with the heart of the country boy beating as it had seldom beat before. To him, his whole future seemed to rest upon what he might learn in the next few hours.

CHAPTER XXII
ABOUT SOME MISSING MEN

The hotel proved to be a one-story building of Spanish architecture, with numerous small windows and a rather low door. It was presided over by a round-faced Englishman, who stared at Billy Dill curiously when the old tar presented himself.

"Do you remember me, Mr. Chadsey?" asked the sailor.

"I do," was the answer. "You were here some years ago. But I cannot recall your name."

"Billy Dill."

"Oh, yes, yes; you were with Mr. Porter and Mr. Lemington," returned the hotel-keeper.

"That's it. I am looking for Mr. Porter now."

"Sorry, but he isn't here."

"Isn't here?" cried Dave, and his heart sank. "Isn't he in town at all?"

"No, he left the island a couple of months ago."

"And where did he go to?"

"I don't know. He said something about going to Sobago Island and something about going to Australia, but where he really did go to, I have not learned."

"This young man is very much interested in meeting Mr. Porter," explained Billy Dill. "His name is Porter, too, and I reckon they are related. Have you any idea where we can find out where Dunston Porter went?"

"Might find out at the shipping offices."

"Why, of course!" exclaimed Dave. "Let us go to the different offices at once."

Billy Dill was willing, and without loss of time led the way to the street upon which the majority of the shipping of Cavasa Island was booked. The offices were mostly small and rather dirty, and around them hung sailors and other men, of various nationalities, and some of them far from prepossessing in their general appearance.

They visited two offices without success, and then came to a place located on a corner, with doors on both streets.

"Hello!" cried Roger. "There is Mr. Van Blott just ahead of us! Is this the shipping firm with which Mr. Lawrence does business?"

"I don't think it is," answered Billy Dill.

"Then what is he doing here?"

"Must have a little business of his own," said Dave. "But I don't care. Come along." Just then he was thinking only of his personal affairs.

They entered the office, which reeked of tobacco smoke and the smell of rum. In the rear was another office, and they were just in time to see the supercargo go into this, shutting a partition door behind him.

Looking around, Dave saw a clerk at a corner desk looking over some papers with an elderly German.

"I will be at liberty in a few minutes," said the clerk, in broken English. "Please to take seats," and he pointed to a couple of low benches set against the wall and the partition.

Billy Dill sat down on the bench along the wall and Dave and Roger upon that next to the partition, which was not over seven feet in height. Save for the rattling of the papers at the corner desk the office was very quiet, and the boys readily heard the talk going on behind the partition.

"So you really have some goots on board?" came in a somewhat German voice. "I vos afraid you vould not bring any."

"Didn't I say I'd bring them, Baumann?" returned Jasper Van Blott. "I've got them, and the only question is, how am I to get them here, and when are you going to pay me?"

"I pay so soon as de goots is here," said the German shipping agent. "I not pay a dollar before."

"But you will send your men down to the dock?"

"Oh, yes, I do dot. Vot dime you vonts dem, hey?"

"To-morrow morning at eight o'clock, sharp. Tell them to watch me, and when I wave my handkerchief they can come forward and get the goods."

"How many poxes vos dere?"

"Sixteen, all told. You want to be careful and caution your men. I don't want Captain Marshall to learn what I am – "

The boys heard no more, for at this juncture the clerk came forward, having finished his work at the corner desk.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, blandly.

"I am looking for a man who is supposed to have left Cavasa Island by steamer, or sailboat, about two months ago," said Dave. "His name is Dunston Porter. Can you tell me if he shipped from here?"

The clerk looked over a book he drew from a desk.

"I see nothing of the name," he said, after a pause.

"You would have the name, if he had taken passage from here?" questioned Roger.

The clerk nodded. Then, when he found that he could do nothing more for them, he dropped into an easy chair, lit a black-looking cigar and took up a newspaper.

"There is one more shipping office," said Billy Dill, as he led the way to the street. "We'll go there."

"Dave, did you hear that talk in the back room?" questioned the senator's son, as they were hurrying down the street.

"I did."

"What do you think of it?"

"I think the supercargo is up to some game, and we must tell Phil and Captain Marshall."

"That's just my idea, too, Dave. Let me see, the name of the firm was Baumann & Feltmuller, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

They were soon at the last of the shipping offices. Here the clerk could scarcely talk English, and they had to call in the services of a gentleman who chanced to be present and who could speak the native tongue. A booking list was consulted, and it was announced that Dunston Porter had taken passage for Nanpi, on Sobago Island, just six weeks before.

"Six weeks!" cried Dave. "I hope he is there still. Now, how can I communicate with him, Roger?"

"You can send him a letter," answered Roger. "But you must remember that the Stormy Petrel is going to Nanpi as soon as her cargo for this town is unloaded."

From the shipping clerk they learned that Dunston Porter had gone to Sobago alone – that is, without his partner, Mr. Lemington. A further searching into the shipping lists revealed the fact that the partner had sailed for Australia seven weeks past.

"I reckon they dissolved partnership," observed Billy Dill, "an' one went his way, an' tudder the other way. An' I likewise guess they didn't git thet treasure."

There was now nothing to do but to return to the bark, and this they did without delay. The boys found that Captain Marshall had gone ashore on business, and so called Phil aside and related to him what had been heard in the office of Baumann & Feltmuller.

"You are right – there is something in the wind," said the shipowner's son. "I wish the captain was here, so I could consult with him."

"He'll be back soon, won't he?" questioned Roger.

"He said he might not be back until late this evening."

Phil was interested in what Dave had to tell about Dunston Porter, and said he would urge the captain of the Stormy Petrel to set sail for Nanpi at the earliest possible moment.

It was not until ten o'clock that Jasper Van Blott came back to the bark. He immediately walked up to the first mate and the pair engaged in conversation for some time. Then the supercargo went to bed, and Roger and Dave did the same. Phil sat up, reading and awaiting the captain's return.

It was almost seven o'clock when the country boy sprang up and awakened the senator's son. Both hurried into their clothes and then into the cabin, where they met Phil, whose face was full of worry.

"What's the matter?" asked both.

"Captain Marshall hasn't come back yet."

"Hasn't come back?" ejaculated Dave. "Do you mean to say he stayed away all night?"

"Exactly; and I don't know what to make of it."

"Did he say he might remain away?" came from Roger.

"No."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, and neither does Mr. Shepley."

"What will you do about – " began Dave, and cut himself short, as Jasper Van Blott came into the cabin.

"Mr. Van Blott, do you know anything about the captain?" questioned Phil.

"I do not," was the short reply.

"It is queer that he should stay away all night."

"Oh, captains like to have good times occasionally," continued the supercargo, with a sickly grin.

"If you mean by that, that Captain Marshall went off to have a good time, as you put it, I do not think so," returned Phil, coldly. "He is not that sort."

"Perhaps you know him better than I do," flared up the supercargo.

"I know that he is a man who sticks to his duty, Mr. Van Blott. Something has gone wrong, or he would be back."

"As you please." The supercargo paused. "Well, it doesn't matter much," he continued. "I know what to do, and I am going ahead without waiting for him."

"You mean about unloading?"

"Yes."

"Would it not be better to wait until Captain Marshall returns?"

"No, it would only be a waste of time."

No more was said just then, and a few minutes later breakfast was announced. As soon as it was over, Phil called his chums aside.

"I wish you'd do me a favor," he whispered. "Go ashore and try to hunt up the captain. He must be around somewhere. I will try to hold the supercargo back as much as I can."

Dave and the senator's son were willing, and in less than ten minutes were on the dock and moving for the streets beyond.

"Where are those boys going?" asked Jasper Van Blott, coming up to Phil.

"They are going to look for Captain Marshall."

"Humph!" muttered the supercargo, and said no more.

"I think we had better wait until the captain returns," went on Phil.

"I am not going to wait," snapped Van Blott. "I am going to get that cargo ashore as quickly as it can be done."

And fifteen minutes later the hatches were opened and the work of getting out the boxes, barrels, and casks began.

CHAPTER XXIII
IN WHICH THE SUPERCARGO IS CORNERED

From one street corner Dave and Roger hurried to another, looking in every direction for some sign of Captain Marshall. This hunt they kept up for the best part of half an hour, but without success.

"He is certainly nowhere in this vicinity," said the senator's son. "I wonder where he can be keeping himself."

They walked on more slowly, and at the entrance to a lane came to another halt. Then, chancing to look into the lane, Dave uttered a short cry:

"There he is!"

Coming along the lane was Captain Marshall. His step was an uncertain one, and he pitched from side to side. As the two boys ran forward, the master of the Stormy Petrel gave a lurch and landed on some old boxes with a crash.

"Oh, Dave, can this be possible!" murmured Roger. "I did not think the captain would do it."

"Let us help him to the ship," answered Dave. He was as much shocked as his companion, and he could not help but think of what the supercargo had said.

"Oh, is it you, boys?" mumbled the captain, as he espied them. "I want to – to get back to the ship."

"We'll help you," said Dave.

"I've had an awful night – my mind is in a perfect whirl," went on the master of the Stormy Petrel.

"We'll soon have you safe on the bark," put in Roger.

The two assisted the captain to his feet. His eyes had a peculiar stare in them. Suddenly he clapped his hand to his pocket.

"Funny!" he muttered. "Very funny! I've got my watch! And I've got my money, too!"

"Did you think they were gone?" queried Dave.

"Well, I shouldn't be – be surprised. I thought they did it to rob me. What time is it? Oh, but I am weak in the legs, boys!"

"It is about eight o'clock."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"Then I must get back to the Stormy Petrel by all means. I – how did you come to find me?"

"We were out looking for you," answered Roger. "We were alarmed, and so was Phil, because you didn't come back last night."

"I – I meant to come back. Oh, how my head spins! I wish I had a drink of water! That coffee they dosed me with was vile."

"Coffee they dosed you with?" queried Dave. "Were you drugged?"

"I must have been, lad. I met some men, and they wanted me to drink with them. I refused. Then they offered me some coffee and native cakes, and, to be sociable, I took the stuff. Directly afterward I began to grow sleepy, and then I didn't know a thing until I woke up at the end of that lane awhile ago."

"Did you know the men?" asked Roger.

"I did not, but they pretended to know me. It's queer they didn't rob me. I wonder why they drugged me?"

"I don't know," answered Dave, "unless – "

"Unless what?"

"I shouldn't like to say, Captain Marshall. But I'll tell you one thing, you are wanted on board of the Stormy Petrel at once."

"Who wants me?"

"Phil Lawrence. We have learned something about Mr. Van Blott which we think you ought to know. But you must get your head cleared up, first of all."

They walked the captain back to the bark, and, by accident more than design, managed to get the skipper on board without the supercargo seeing the party. Then they called Phil into the cabin, and in the meantime got the captain some fresh water and some other things they fancied might do him good. They were glad to note that his dizziness was fast leaving him.

"This looks suspicious to me," said Captain Marshall, after he had heard what the boys had to relate. "But I cannot accuse Van Blott of having me drugged, as I have no proof of it. I do not know who those men were, and, more than likely, they will keep themselves out of sight."

"That is true," returned Phil. "But you can help me regarding this stuff to be taken away by Baumann & Feltmuller, can't you?"

"Certainly, Phil. I want to know all about that stuff before it leaves this ship. Have you the records of the goods?"

"No, sir; Mr. Van Blott has locked the books in the safe."

"Then, if I were you, as your father's representative, I should demand to see the records. I will back you up."

"If you will back me up, I'll go to him at once. He is already getting the goods out of the hold."

"I'll put a stop to that," answered the captain.

He was still feeble in the legs, but managed to climb to the deck, and walked to where the supercargo and the first mate were directing the unloading of a portion of the cargo.

"Hello, so you are back!" exclaimed the supercargo, and his face paled a little.

"I am," returned the captain, coldly. "Mr. Shepley, did you give orders to unload?" he went on, turning to the mate.

"I – I – er – did," stammered the mate. "You said yesterday we were to start first thing this morning."

"I did – but I expected to be here when we began. Mr. Van Blott, Philip Lawrence wishes to see you in your office."

"I haven't time to bother with him now," growled the supercargo. "Go ahead with those cases!" he shouted to some stevedores who were nearby, and pulling out his handkerchief he gave it a flourish toward the dock.

"Drop those cases!" roared Captain Marshall, his face growing red. "Drop them, I say!" And the natives who were carrying the cases stopped short.

"Captain Marshall – " began Jasper Van Blott. "I – what do you mean by this – er – by this – "

"I told you that Philip Lawrence wanted to see you in your office. You had better see him before we move any more of this cargo."

"Yes, but – "

"I won't argue the matter, Mr. Van Blott. I was drugged last night. Do you understand? Drugged! But my mind is clear now, and I want everything on this bark to run smoothly. You had better go to your office, and I'll go with you."

The supercargo glared at the captain, and the latter glared in return. Then Van Blott shrugged his shoulders.

"As you please," he said. "But it is a strange proceeding." And he walked to that part of the ship where was located his little office. As he passed the first mate, he gave the man a wink and turned his eyes toward the cases on the deck. Paul Shepley nodded slightly.

In the office they found Phil awaiting them. Roger followed the pair, but Dave had seen the wink that was passed, and remained on deck, and a moment later seated himself on one of the very cases the stevedores had been in the act of removing from the ship.

"Ain't you going with them?" asked the first mate, coming up with a dark frown on his face.

"No, I think I'll stay here until they come back," answered Dave, lightly.

"Then please get off of that box."

"I am not hurting the box, Mr. Shepley."

"Get off, I say!"

The boy from the country did so.

"I believe Captain Marshall wanted nothing moved until he came back," said Dave, gazing boldly into the mate's angry face. "Perhaps I had better call him, if you are going to work again."

"Who said I was going to move anything?" growled Paul Shepley, his manner showing that that was just what he had had in mind to do. "Don't you get too fresh around me, or there will be trouble!"

"Well, if there is trouble, I'll do my best to stand up against it."

"Aw! you make me tired!" grumbled the first mate, and strode away in deep disgust, leaving Dave master of the field.

In the meantime a stormy meeting was being held in the supercargo's office. At first Van Blott flatly refused to allow Phil to look at his books, but at last brought forth several, which the shipowner's son knew were of little importance.

"I want the books that relate to the goods to be landed here," said Phil. "I want to know all about each piece before it is put ashore."

"Humph! You are getting very particular, young man!" observed the supercargo.

"I do not deny it."

"Did your father send you on this trip to spy on me?"

"You may put it that way, if you wish, Mr. Van Blott. I am here simply to learn this business and to see that everything is O. K."

"If everything is all right, what have you to fear from an inspection like this?" came suggestively from Captain Marshall.

"I am not going to work here and be watched like a criminal!" stormed Jasper Van Blott. "If old man Lawrence can't trust me, it is time we parted company!"

"I agree with you," returned the captain.

"Do you?" came with a sneer. "Very well. I'll close up my accounts and quit."

"You'll not do it just yet," put in Phil. He was pale, but determined.

"I won't?"

"No. Before you quit you must make an accounting to me of goods and money, and satisfy me, and also Captain Marshall, that everything is O. K. in every particular."

"Bah! Boy, who gave you authority to talk to me in this fashion?"

"My father."

"I don't believe it. Why, you are a mere boy – you don't know what you are saying. I'll close up this business to suit myself and leave my keys with Captain Marshall, and that will end it."

"Mr. Van Blott, you must remember that Philip Lawrence is the shipowner's son," said the captain, sternly.

"I don't care if he is. He has no legal authority, and I don't propose to let him drive me."

"Just wait a minute, until I come back," said Phil, starting for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Roger.

"To my stateroom. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"What is he going to do?" questioned the supercargo, uneasily.

"I don't know," answered Captain Marshall, shortly. "But, if I were you, Mr. Van Blott, I should listen to him. In a certain sense, he represents his father on this vessel."

"He doesn't represent him with me!" muttered the supercargo. His anger had made him lose a good portion of his common sense.

There was a minute of silence, during which Jasper Van Blott strode up and down the narrow office. Then a step was heard outside, and Phil reappeared, carrying a large envelope in his hand.

"My father said I was not to use this unless it was necessary," he said, drawing a paper from the envelope.

At the appearance of a legal-looking document the supercargo started back.

"What's that?" he demanded, hoarsely.

"This is a document authorizing Captain Marshall to take charge of your affairs, Mr. Van Blott. He is to investigate everything, under my supervision, and is to hold you strictly accountable for everything you have done since starting on this voyage."