Three days later, Joe Hardy, looking nothing like his usual self in his old sailor clothes and dirt spattered face, strolled up the gang plank of the ship called Wraith.It was huge, over a hundred feet long and bearing six boilers. Everywhere men scurried, preparing for their departure at the night high tide. Nothing betrayed the fact that valuable weapons lay hidden below decks, awaiting shipment to a military base in South Korea. Even the very crew probably didn't know.

All the Hardys had said goodbye to their son yesterday afternoon in Bayport Airport as he caught his flight to Los Angeles. Not even the captain knew that he was anything other than an ordinary sea rat and Fenton declared it would be suspicious if Joe had any mushy goodbyes. Frank had left the pervious day for his job in D.C., so at least that goodbye had been separate.

A man, of about forty years of age and about six feet tall and sporting a mop of curly brown hair came to greet Joe as he entered the ship. "You must the new crew member. I'm Tyler Brenden, first mate."

"Joe Harley."

Tyler glanced at the rucksack that Joe was carrying and frowned. "I'll need to see that, Joe. Here's a set of dog tags to wear, just in case. Crew lodgings are below the foredeck hatch, find an empty space."

The Hardy nodded held out his bag for Tyler to search. When the mate was satisfied, he slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the indicated hatch. Tyler called him back. "Joe, this may not be a sailing ship, but it's as good as. We operate under the same hierarchy, mostly because there are moments on a ship when it could save your life and others. From now on, you will call me sir and stay until I give you leave to go."

Joe grimaced. Structure and following orders wasn't up his ally. "Yes, sir."

The mate looked him up and down and then said, "Dismissed."

A ladder led down from the hatch, disappearing into blackness. Joe frowned, and then, securing his sack of clothing, climbed down. Twenty rungs down he met the floor and three walls. The empty space lead down a small corridor where light came from an end. Joe followed the corridor, and in the dim, noted that it wasn't a corridor, but a dormitory, two sets of bunk beds with a storage cache separated by a thin wall on both his left and right.

At the last room, a small lamp shone. A small man was digging in his own little cache, but turned when he saw Joe.

"Newbie?" He asked with a slight laugh. When Joe nodded, he stuck his head out beyond the thin wall and looked down the room. "Cap'n told me that we was to start ya at ter bottom, like everyone. Know what that is?"

Joe frowned, trying to remember from all the sailing books he had every read. "Cabin boy?"

The man let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Cabin boy? Boy, this is the twenty first century. Try scullery. You work with Cook and when he don't need you, yer to report to the mate that controls the watch."

Joe's stomach did a back flip. Nice. He would get loads of detective work done in the kitchens. The man squinted at him. "You look like a softie. Cap'n will appreciate it if you toughen up a bit." He opened a door where Joe had expected the wall at the end of the dormitory to be. By the light of the lamp, Joe could see four pallets lying the floor, only one of which looked occupied.

"Softy, you and Boy, the other crewman like you will share this one. I have duties. Report to Cook in ten minutes for duties." Without giving his name, he handed Joe the lamp and strolled out towards the ladder and deck.

Alone, Joe chose the pallet next to the occupied one and used the old sheet his mother had given him to make the bed. There was a small pillow, but it was old and smelled of mildew. Joe sat down on the pallet and winced. He would feel everything through this. Next to it, he placed his rucksack in the topless, built in box nearby. Then he returned to the normal dormitory, let the lamp in the rack along the wall and went to find Cook. This was going to be a long voyage.