This is a fiction short story".I don't care what your orders are. Cap'n Hollinger sent for me, and I'm going aboard or I'll know the reason why!" "Well, ain't you just heard the reason why, son? He ain't here, and orders is orders. There ain't no one comin' aboard the Seamew , that's all. Nothin' was said about any Mart Judson, kid"".Then I guess your ears need tuning up. I'm comin' aboard, see?" "Ye'll go overboard then. Well, if the kid ain't goin' to walk right up to me ! Look out there, kid get off that gangplank in a hurry!" Trouble was in the air. At the rail of the trim yacht Seamew lounged Swanson, her burly first officer, pipe in mouth. He was evidently angry, for his heavy features were dark and lowering and his deep set blue eyes glittered ominously. But the boy who faced him from the wharf was no less stirred up. Mart Judson looked a good deal more than his seventeen years, for he had worked his own way in the world and his face had a serious air of responsibility. He wore a smudgy mechanic's cap and greasy overalls, and from his keen gray eyes, determined mouth and chin, and straight black hair, an observer might have deduced that he could be a hard worker and a stubborn fighter if need were. Yet it was small wonder that Swanson had laughed at him.