RODNEY FINDS A PATRON.
Late in the afternoon Rodney strolled up the East River wharves.
He was hungry, for he had eaten nothing all day. He was very
sad, and sat down on a cotton bale, and cried. In what a
position had a single day placed him! He had no place where he
could lay his head for the night, no bread to eat, and he knew
nobody whom he dared to ask for a meal; and so, with a sorrowful
heart, he sat down and wept.
He buried his face in his hands, and for a long time sat there
motionless. He did not know that a man was standing before him,
watching him, until he was startled by a voice:
"Why, my boy, what is the matter with you?"
He looked up, and saw a tall man in a sailor's dress standing
near him.
"I want to get a place on a ship, sir, to go to sea," replied
Rodney; "I can't find any place, and I have no money and no
friends here."
The man sat down beside him, and asked him, "Where are your
friends?"
"In Albany, sir."
"What did you leave them for?"
"Because I wanted to go to sea."
They talked some time together, and Rodney told him truly all about
himself and his friends. The man seemed to pity him, and told him
that he was a sailor, and had lately been discharged from a United
States vessel, where he had served as a marine,--that he had spent
almost all his money, and was looking for another ship. He told
Rodney to go with him, and he would try what could be done for him.
They went into a sailors' boarding-house, and got something to eat.
Then the man,--who said his name was Bill Seegor, and that he
must call him Bill, and not Mister, nor sir,--took him with
himself into a ball-room. Here he saw a great many sailors and
bad women, who danced together, and laughed, and shouted, and
cursed, and drank, until long past midnight. Rodney had never
witnessed _such_ a scene. He had never heard such filthy and
blasphemous language, nor seen such indecent behavior.
"Come, my lad," said a bluff sailor to him; "if you mean to be a
man, you must learn to toss off your glass. Your white face
don't look as if you ever tasted anything stronger than tea.
Here is a glass of grog,--down with it!"
And Rodney, who wanted to be a man, drank it with a swaggering
air, though it scorched his throat; and then another, until he
became very sick;--and the last he remembered was, that the
sailors and the women all seemed to be swearing and fighting
together.
The next morning he was awaked by Bill Seegor, and found
himself in a garret, on a miserable bed, with all his clothes
on. How he had ever got there he could not tell. His head ached,
and his limbs were stiff and pained him when he moved. His
throat was parched and burning, and he felt so wretchedly, that,
if he had dared, he would have begged permission to stay there
on the bed. But Bill told him that it was time to start and look
up a ship, for he had only money enough to last another day.
After breakfast they started, and inquired at every place which
Bill knew, but without success; no men or boys were wanted.
In the afternoon, Rodney was terribly frightened at seeing his
brother-in-law walking along the wharves. He knew in a moment
that he had come to New York to search for him; and he darted
round a corner into an alley, and hid himself behind some
barrels, till he had passed by. He afterwards learned that his
brother-in-law had been looking for him all day, and that he had
found and taken his trunk, and had been several times at places
which he had just left. O! if he had then abandoned his foolish
and wicked course, and gone home with his brother, how much
misery he would have escaped! But he contrived to keep out of
his way.
That evening Bill said to him, as they were eating their supper
in a cellar--
"Rodney, to-morrow morning we must start for Philadelphia."
"But how shall we get there?"
"We shall have to tramp it."
"How far is it?"
"About a hundred miles."
"How long will it take?"
"Four or five days."
"But how shall we get anything to eat, or any place to sleep on
the road?"
"Tell a good story to the farmers, and sleep on the hay-mows."
Rodney began to find out that "_the way of the transgressor is
hard_."
That night they went to the theatre. Bill had given Rodney a
dirk, which he carried in his bosom. They went up into the third
tier of boxes, which was filled with the most wicked and debased
men and women. While the rest were laughing, and talking, and
cursing, Rodney sat down on the front seat to see the play; but
they made so much confusion behind him that he could not hear,
so he turned round, and said, rather angrily: "I wish you
wouldn't make so much noise."
"Who are you talking to?" shouted a rough, bully-looking man
behind him, with a terrible oath; "I'll pitch you into the pit,
if you open your head again."
He rushed towards him, but, quick as thought, Rodney snatched
the dirk from his breast, drew his arm back over his head, and
told the bully to keep off. The man stopped, and in an instant
the whole theatre was in confusion. The play on the stage
ceased; and there, in full view, leaning over the front of the
box, stood the boy, with the weapon in his hand, gleaming in the
eyes of the whole audience.
Bill Seegor rushed to him, pulled him back toward the lobby, and
took the dagger from his hand. The bully then aimed a tremendous
blow at the boy's face, which fortunately was warded off by one
of the women. Just then a police-officer came up, and, taking
Rodney by the collar, led him down stairs. Half a dozen men, who
were Bill's friends, followed; and when they got into the
street, they dashed against the officer, and broke his hold,
when Bill caught Rodney by the arm and told him to run. They
turned quickly through several streets, and escaped pursuit.
Do you think that Rodney was happy amid such scenes? Ah! no; he
was alarmed at himself. He felt degraded and guilty; he felt
that he was taking sudden and rapid strides in the path of
debasement and vice. He thought of his home and its sweet
influences. He knew how deep would be the grief of those who
loved him, should they hear of his course. His conscience
condemned him, and he thought of what he was becoming with
horror. But he seemed to be drawn on by his wild desires, and
felt scarcely a disposition to escape the meshes of the net that
was winding around him.
The sailors praised him, and patted him on the back; told him
that he was a brave fellow,--that he was beginning right, and
that there was good stuff in him. And Rodney laughed, tickled by
such praises, and drank what they offered, and tried to stifle
his conscience and harden himself in sin. Yet often, when he was
alone, did he shrink from himself, and writhe under the lashings
of conscience; and the remembrance of home, and thoughts of his
conduct, rendered him very wretched.