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"No; wait a moment. I'll connect you."
"Hello," came, an instant later.
"Hello. Mr. Baldwin?"
"Yes."
"I am Captain Tom Halstead, here at the Palace Hotel, awaiting your orders."
"Is Dabson with you?"
"Dawson, sir," Tom corrected. "Yes; Dawson is with me."
"Then your whole crew is on hand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good! Well, as the finishers are about through with their repair work on my boat we shall be ready to get you aboard without delay."
"May I ask, sir, how big a boat – "
"Captain, be at my office, all of you in uniform, at four o'clock exactly."
"Very good, sir. Four o'clock."
"Captain Halstead, punctuality is one of my failings," warned Joseph Baldwin's voice.
"It's one of my studies, Mr. Baldwin."
"Then, at four o'clock?"
"Four o'clock, sharp, sir!"
"Good-bye."
Ting-ling-ling! Tom hung up the receiver.
"Well," came an eager chorus. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to get into our club sailing uniforms," smiled Captain Tom, "and we're to be at Mr. Baldwin's office at four o'clock to the minute."
"What sort of a boat – "
"Cruising or racing – "
"Coasting or sea-voy – "
"You'll all of you have to cut out the questions," laughed Tom Halstead. "I've told you every blessed thing I've just learned over the 'phone. Fellows, I think our Mr. Baldwin is stingy – "
"Stingy?" broke in Ab Perkins, with fine scorn. "And paying every one of us first-class salaries!"
"Stingy of words," finished Captain Tom, calmly. "If our new employer keeps on as he has begun, we won't know anything he means to do until the time comes to do it. Then he'll give his complete orders in from six to eight words. That's the way it looks. Now, for your uniforms. Come along, Joe, and we'll get into ours. Mr. Baldwin, I omitted to tell you, did inform me – "
Captain Tom paused, looking mysterious.
"Told you what?" chorused Dick, Ab and Jed, eagerly.
"That he's extremely partial to people who are punctual to the minute," finished Tom Halstead, making a sign that brought Joe along in his trail.
Sailors are accustomed to quick dressing, as they are to quick work of all sorts. Hence the six motor boat boys, all looking decidedly neat and important in their uniforms and visored caps, were soon on their way to the elevator shaft. Soon afterwards they stepped from the Palace entrance to the street, making for the other side of Market Street at the first crossing.
More than one swift pedestrian paused long enough to send a look back after these six trim, almost martial-looking young men, who walked in pairs and carried themselves like graduates of the Naval Academy.
It was just five minutes before four o'clock when the sextette halted outside the Chronicle Building.
"A couple of minutes to breathe," announced Halstead, watch in hand. Presently, he marched them into the corridor. Here, after a short wait, they stepped into one of the several elevators, leaving it a few floors from the street.
"Sixty seconds yet to spare," whispered Captain Tom, smilingly, holding up his watch.
Precisely at the dot of four o'clock the six motor boat boys filed in at the door of the Baldwin offices, after Halstead had turned the knob.
In the outer office were several clerks, behind a railing. An office boy sat at a desk close by the gate of the railing.
"Mr. Baldwin expects us at four," stated Tom to the boy. "Will you please tell him that Captain Halstead and party are here?"
The boy disappeared. When he returned a briskly-moving man of fifty was at his heels. It was Joseph Baldwin, one of the rich men of the Pacific Coast, and one of its most daring promoters. He was a man who acted, ordinarily, as though the day were but five minutes long and crowded with business. Mr. Baldwin looked like a prosperous business man, though there was nothing foppish in his attire.
"Captain Halstead?" he demanded, holding out a hand. The act was gracious enough, though hurried. In less than a minute Tom had presented his friends and all had been through the handshake.
Back of Mr. Baldwin stood a clerk, holding his employer's hat.
"I'm off for the day, Johnson," he announced. "Is the transportation at the door?"
"Yes, sir. I just looked out of the window. Your transportation is ready."
"Come along, Captain Halstead and gentlemen," directed Mr. Baldwin.
Though he led them swiftly, another clerk had slipped out ahead of them, and now stood by the elevator shaft. A car was just stopping at the floor. Down the party whizzed. Mr. Baldwin led the boys to a street door, outside of which two automobile touring cars stood.
"Captain, I want you and Dawson in the car with me. Let your friends follow in the other."
Two tonneau doors closed with bangs. Off whizzed the cars. Speed laws did not appear to be made for the concern of a man like Joseph Baldwin. It seemed as though the cars had barely started when they ran out onto a dock not much to the westward of the ferry houses.
A man in plain blue uniform and visored cap, wearing the insignia of a quartermaster, stood at the far end of the dock. He saluted as soon as he espied Joseph Baldwin hastening toward him.
"I see you're on time, Bickson."
"Yes, sir."
By this time Mr. Baldwin was going down a short flight of steps to a landing stage. There lay moored a trim-looking sixteen-foot power tender.
"Fall aboard," briefly directed Mr. Baldwin, and the motor boat boys, rather enjoying this systematized bustle, obeyed.
Bickson, without waiting for orders, cast off, started the motor and sent the boat gliding out into the stream.
"Quite a motor yacht that carries a quartermaster," observed Captain Halstead, with a smile.
"I carry three," rejoined Mr. Baldwin, thrusting a cigar into his mouth and lighting it with a "blazer" match.
In and out among the shipping the tender glided. Then, at last, Captain Tom caught sight of a graceful craft some hundred and twenty feet long. She looked like a miniature liner.
"I wonder if I'll ever command a handsome craft like that?" thought the young motor boat skipper, with a brief pang of envy. "Jove! what a boat!"
The next thing the motor boat boys knew they were running up alongside this hundred-and-twenty-footer. A young man of twenty-five or twenty-six, whose uniform proclaimed him to be a watch officer, stood at the top of a side gangway.
"This can't be the boat – such a beauty!" gasped Tom Halstead, inwardly. Joe Dawson's eyes were full of wonder. Ab Perkins's lower jaw was hanging down in proof of his bewilderment. Dick Davis's face was flushing. Jed was staring. Only Jeff Randolph appeared indifferent.
"How do you do, Mr. Costigan?" hailed Mr. Baldwin, leading the way up the side gangway. "Mr. Costigan, pay your respects to the new captain of the 'Panther.' Captain Halstead, Mr. Costigan, your third officer."
If Mr. Costigan appeared astonished, Tom Halstead did not look less so. That he was really to command this big, handsome craft seemed to Tom like a dream. A moment before, when he had realized that the "Panther" was Mr. Baldwin's craft, the most the Maine boy had expected was that he and his companions would be allowed to stand watch in the engine room and on the bridge. But – captain!
Third Officer Costigan, however, saluted in a most proper manner. Tom held out his hand cordially.
"Presently, Mr. Costigan, I shall ask you to show me about this craft."
"At your orders, sir," replied Costigan, again saluting his commanding officer, then making his way forward.
"Here's the captain's cabin. I have the key," announced Mr. Baldwin, leading the way to a door immediately aft of the pilot house. The owner unlocked the door, then led the way inside. Again Captain Tom wondered if he could be dreaming. Though everything was compact in this stateroom, yet all the conveniences were there, too. There was a double bed, a wardrobe locker, running water, two easy chairs, a desk, and a table just under a well-stocked China and glass cupboard.
"Your stateroom runs right through the deck-house from starboard to port," explained Mr. Baldwin, who now appeared less pressed for time. "Bathroom and chart-room open out of this cabin aft. I think, Captain, you will be comfortable."
"Comfortable!" murmured Tom, then smiled in sheer delight.
The other motor boat boys stood about the doorway, not offering to enter while the owner was there. Mr. Baldwin dropped into one of the arm chairs.
"Now, Captain, I'll tell you what we have aboard," continued the owner. "Costigan is third officer. He's a good fellow, and a capable sailor, but he has his limitations, and – well, I don't believe he'll ever be much more than a third officer. You'd better keep him in that grade – unless you find he's better than some of your comrades. One good thing about Costigan is that he has a pilot's license for San Francisco Bay and the coast hereabouts. He's a good pilot, too. Another good thing about Costigan is that he's loyal, and a man who knows how to keep his tongue resting in the back of his mouth.
"Besides Costigan, there are three quartermasters and seven men in the crew. We have also a cook and helper, a cabin steward and a men's steward. That's the whole outfit. We have no one, at present, in the engine-room department. You have men with you to fill out those positions, haven't you, Captain?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let me see how you'll go to work to place them," shot out Mr. Baldwin, instantly.
"Mr. Perkins, first officer; Mr. Davis, second officer," replied Halstead, promptly. "Mr. Costigan, of course, third officer."
"And in the engine room?" pressed the owner.
"Mr. Dawson, chief engineer; Mr. Prentiss, first assistant; Mr. Randolph, second assistant engineer."
"All right," nodded Joseph Baldwin. "That makes our complement complete, I think. Now, Captain, publish your selections to the crew and take command. There's the bell at the side of your desk."
Hardly had Tom Halstead, still feeling as though in a trance, pressed the button, when a jauntily uniformed sailor appeared at the doorway, saluting.
"My compliments to Mr. Costigan; ask him to come here," ordered Tom.
From the speed with which he reported, Third Officer Costigan must have been awaiting the summons.
"Pipe the crew forward of the pilot house, Mr. Costigan. All hands. I've something to say to them."
The third officer's whistle rang out shrilly forward. A few moments later Captain Halstead was notified that all hands were on deck.
Tom thereupon went forward, accompanied by the new officers of the "Panther," who were proclaimed to the crew, including even the stewards and cooks.
"And I now invite the officers to my cabin," said Captain Halstead as he wound up his harangue to the men. "The details of the deck and engine room watches will be decided at once."
This was soon done. Following the practice that now obtains on many yachts, the watches were made eight hours long, instead of four. This enabled each member of a watch to get a full sleep between watches. In ordinary weather neither the captain nor first officer stands watch. The captain's, or starboard, watch was to be taken by Dick Davis as second officer. Mr. Costigan, third officer, was to stand the first officer's, or port, watch. Joe Dawson, as chief engineer, was generally responsible for the engineering department, but stood no watch in the engine room, the starboard watch at the motors falling to Jed Prentiss, and the port watch to Jeff Randolph. Bickson, as chief quartermaster, was made responsible for the general policing of the craft, the other two quartermasters taking watch trick at the wheel in the pilot house.
During the making of these arrangements Mr. Baldwin had strolled aft to his own suite of rooms. These, immediately aft of the chart room, consisted of parlor, bed-room and bath. Aft of these quarters lay the deck dining room, from which a staircase led down to the cabin proper. Off the cabin were eight handsome staterooms for the owner's guests.
All this Tom and his comrades saw as Costigan piloted them over this superb yacht.
Forward of the main cabin, below, was the chief engineer's stateroom, which Joe would occupy by himself. In Joe's room, also, was service for the chief engineer's meals.
Then there was a stateroom for the second and third officers, and another for the engineer's two assistants. For these junior officers, and Mr. Costigan, there was an officers' mess. Further forward was the crew's mess, then the kitchen department. Ahead of this was the engine room, with the crew's forecastle quarters right up in the bow of the craft, below decks.
"You see, sir," explained Mr. Costigan, "there's everything that could be thought of for the comfort of officers and crew."
"It's the most compact boat I could imagine," declared Captain Tom, enthusiastically.
"You may well say that, sir."
They passed on to inspect the engine room. Joe's eyes fairly gleamed as he inspected the twin motors, the dynamos and all the other details of his own department. It was a finer engine room than Joe Dawson had hoped to command for many years to come. He remained below, with his assistants, to inspect their new domain, while Tom, Ab and Dick returned to the deck with Mr. Costigan.
The "Panther" was schooner rigged, with a full set of sails for each of the two masts. There was a short bowsprit, carrying two jibs.
"This craft does pretty well under sail, sir," declared the third officer.
"She looks as though she ought to," replied Captain Tom. "But what gait does she make with her power alone?"
"She's been running, cruising, sir, at about twelve to fourteen miles an hour. She's listed as a twenty-two mile boat at her best, but I believe, sir, that a good engineer could get twenty-four out of her."
"The new chief engineer is one who can get out any speed that the motors will stand."
"He looks it, sir."
Halstead was careful always to use the word "Mister." Watch officers and engineers, who are also officers, are always addressed in that way, by the captain, or even by the owner. Costigan was equally careful to say "sir," when addressing any officer of grade above his own.
"When you can spare the time, Captain, I'll have a few words with you," called Mr. Baldwin, showing his head through the starboard doorway of his suite.
