Jim Travers, as he lay in his hammock, overheard every word which the two
men had said, and considerable more to the same effect.
Unusually bright and mentally strong as he was, he comprehended it all,
and read the scheme as if in a printed book.
Hornblower, seeing him making his way along the wharf in New York, had
formed the plan of abducting him, and then securing a large reward from
the parents or guardian for his return. Accordingly he stole and placed
him in charge of his gang on the schooner, and then began negotiations
with the guardians for his return.
Here a strange combination of circumstances came about.
One of the most pathetic facts that came to light regarding the abduction
of Charley Ross, was the great number of other children that have been
found who had been lost for months and years.
There can be no doubt that a regularly organized system of child-stealing
prevails in this country, and there are at this hour hundreds of mothers
and fathers separated from their beloved offspring through the deviltry
of these kidnappers.
Hornblower must have supposed, from the appearance of Jim Travers, that he
was the son of well-to-do parents, who would "come down" handsomely for
his return. The extraordinary part of the business was, that, on the
morning succeeding Jim's abduction, there appeared in the papers an
account of the disappearance of a boy from Philadelphia, with the promise
of a liberal reward for any information that would lead to his return.
This account did not correspond entirely with the circumstances under
which Jim was taken, but the main facts were such that Hornblower was
satisfied he had the right lad in his keeping.
When Hornblower questioned Jim so closely in the cabin and took down his
replies, he had not a particle of doubt that the boy was telling him a
tissue of falsehoods from beginning to end. Toward the close of the
examination, however, it began to dawn on the abductor that possibly he
had made an error. Be that as it might, he was none the less convinced
that he had a bonanza in his hands, and one which could be made to serve
him as well as the original himself.
His captive corresponded so closely to the one advertised that he could be
made to pass muster as such, and the reward secured. This, it would seem,
was almost an impossible task, but Hornblower was confident of success.
This explanation will serve to show why he took the precautions which had
excited the impatience of his confederate, Bob.
Jim Travers did not know all this, but he easily understood from the
conversation of the two conspirators that he had been stolen for the sake
of making money out of his return.
"What a great mistake they have made," he thought; "there isn't any one in
the wide world that would give three cents to have me returned."
He concluded to stay quietly on board the schooner and let matters take
their course, as it did not occur to him that any personal danger might
arise from future complications. Could he have dreamed of what was coming,
he would have jumped overboard and risked drowning in his attempt to reach
land.
Jim had learned enough from the conversation in the cabin to keep him
awake until midnight. It was near morning when he dropped off into
slumber, which was not broken until the forenoon of the succeeding day was
half gone.
When he went on deck, he saw that the schooner was far below the city, and
standing straight toward the ocean. The weather was again cold, so he kept
within the cabin most of the time.
That night the negro Sam complained of feeling unwell, and threw his
massive form into his hammock, in the hope of becoming better after a
short rest. His sickness was not of a serious nature; but when such a big
man falls ill there is a great deal of it, and the African instantly
formed the belief that he was going to die, certain sure.
He groaned, and cried, until Jim himself became frightened, and went on
deck to ask the others to look after him. They replied that there was
nothing the matter with Sam, and that he would soon come around all right.
Jim did his best to relieve the negro, giving him the few simple remedies
at hand, in the hope that he would drop off to sleep. Sure enough, in the
course of half an hour Sam did fall asleep, and when he awoke, an hour
later, was well; and, fully appreciating Jim's kind attentions, said to
him, leaning on his enormous elbow in the hammock,--
"Tell you what, sonny, yous been mighty kind to me, and _I'll remember
you_, dat's what I'll do."
"You would have done the same for me, Sam."
"S'pose I would; but dar ain't many dat would hab done it for me, and I
_won't forget you_. But wasn't I 'bout de sickest coon dat you eber seen?"
"You seemed to feel very bad," replied Jim.
"Feel bad? you'd better beleib I did! Do you know what de matter wid me?"
"No."
"I had de Norf American cholera; dat's worse dan de African. I also had
the pneumonia, and de bronchitis, and de measles, and de small-pox, and
the cholly-wampus--all at the same time. Do you wonder dat I groaned?"
"I shouldn't think you could groan at all, if you had so many diseases as
that."
"Dar's war my toughness and wrastling powers show themselves. I just
wrastled and wrastled, and I frowed 'em all."
Sam swung his huge legs out of the hammock, took a seat near Jim, and,
reaching out, he gently closed his immense fist around the little white
hand of the boy. Then leaning forward until his black face, as broad as
the moon, was almost against Jim's, he whispered,--
"Yous been mighty kind to me, sonny, and, as I obsarved befor', I ain't de
one to forget it. Now, don't you disremember what I toles you. You tink
it's all nice and pleasant here on de boat, and so it am jis' now, but
dar's _breakers ahead!_ Dat boss ob mine am one ob de biggest debbils dat
am runnin' loose. Ef I should tell yous all dat I know 'bout him, your
hair would rose up and stick frough de roof wid horror. Can you swim,
sonny?"
"I am a good swimmer."
"Berry well; I'm mighty glad to hear dat; it's likely dat you'll hab to
swim for your life one ob dese days. Don't roll your eyes so--I don't
mean dat we's going to be wracked. But what I want to say am dat you must
keep mum, and don't let on dat you don't know nuffin. Don't act as though
you and me was much friends when de rest am 'bout, but you know dat I'm
jis' de best one dat you'll eber find."
"I understand all that," said Jim, who saw that the plan was only a simple
precaution against drawing suspicion to them; "but I had no thought that
any one would want to hurt me."
"Yous young, and don't understand dem tings like us better eddycated
gem'man. Old Hornblower am trying to sell you; and if he can't do it, and
tinks dat de ossifers am coming down on him, why he'll jis' chuck you
oberboard and dar'll be de end ob it. You see, yous a purty big boy to
steal, and if he lets you go, he'll be likely to hear from you again."
Jim thanked his new friend from the bottom of his heart, and asked him
what was the best thing to do.
"_Run away!_" was the emphatic reply.
"But I don't get any chance when they're close to shore. I am watched all
the while, and they are so far off at other times that I hardly dare try
it."
"I'll tell yous what to do; jis' wait till I lets you know dat de time am
come."
Jim agreed to this, and the African shortly after went on deck, while the
boy turned in for the night.
From this time forth the captive lost his reckoning altogether, and could
form no definite idea of the part of the world in which they were
cruising. He supposed they were somewhere along the Virginia or North
Carolina coast. At intervals of a day or two they ran in within sight of
some town, and the sailor known as Bob went ashore in the boat.
On these occasions there could be no doubt that he met Hornblower, and
that the schooner was playing her part in a drama which was likely to end
in a tragedy.
Fortified by the presence of such a friend as the negro Sam, Jim
determined to write a note to Tom, telling him what had happened, and
promising to return to him as soon as possible.
He had no trouble securing paper and the occasion; and when finished, he
intrusted the missive to Sam, with the strictest injunctions to drop it
into the office at the first town where he landed.
The negro did his best, and a week later, when he went ashore, he inquired
for the post-office, which he found after much trouble and delay. But he
had lost the letter, and truth compelled him to report the sad fact to his
young friend.
After that Jim did not run the risk of a second attempt.
"Providence will bring me out all right some day," was his conclusion;
"and then Tom and I will talk it all over."
The schooner coasted up and down for weeks and months, until spring.
During this period she had spent days in ports where Jim could not gain
the chance to find out the name of the town even.
Sam's ignorance was so dense that even if he heard the place called out,
he could not remember it ten minutes.
Several times Hornblower had appeared on board the vessel; but he held no
communication with Jim, nor could the latter gain any additional knowledge
of how he was progressing with his negotiations.
In the presence of others there was always a coolness between Sam and the
boy, and it was impossible that either of the sailors should have
suspected the strong friendship that bound the two together.
The fact that the vessel was working her way northward again made Jim
uneasy; for it convinced him that a crisis was at hand, and his fate was
likely to be determined one way or the other very soon.
Sam was of the same belief, as he took occasion to say when the chance
offered. Adding that he would keep his eyes and ears open.
On a beautiful day in spring the Simoon entered New York Bay, and Jim
resolved to seize the first opportunity to escape. The sight of the great
city filled him with such longings to see his old friend Tom, that he
could scarcely conceal his impatience from the others.
A grievous disappointment awaited him.
So strict a surveillance was kept over him, that no artifice was
sufficient to secure the coveted chance.
That night Hornblower was on board, and a long and angry conference took
place forward between him and Bob.
Jim would have given the world could he have learned what it was; but
neither he nor Sam was allowed to catch a single expression.
The next morning the Simoon left the wharf and started up the Hudson. Mr.
Hornblower had decided to effect a "change of venue."