A FALSE START
There was a tinge of red in the eastern sky when two very weary and
very hungry boys came tramping into Southampton and made their way down
to the docks. Among the innumerable vessels lying side by side they
presently came to one which presented an appearance of greater bustle
than the others; the steam was roaring from the funnels, cases and
boxes were being lowered into the hold amid much shouting and running
up and down of sailors, and everything betokened a speedy departure.
Of a man standing on the wharf, his hands in his pockets and a pipe in
the corner of his mouth, one of the boys inquired whither this vessel
was bound.
“D’n’-know,” grunted the man. “Dieppe, maybe, or St. Malo.”
“When does she sail?” asked the boy again.
“High tide; ’bout an hour.”
“Thank you,” said Percy, who had asked the questions; and then, turning
to me, he suggested that we had time to go and get some breakfast.
In a greasy little den by the waterside we managed to make a very
hearty meal, for we were too hungry to be particular, and in half
an hour we sallied forth again much refreshed. Somewhat to our
consternation, as we issued from the house we ran plump into the
arms of a big policeman, who eyed us, as we thought, with suspicious
keenness, but as he did not address us we walked back to the vessel, to
which a gang-plank had now been run out.
There did not appear to be many passengers going aboard, but among
them we noticed a large family, father and mother, three daughters,
and a son, awaiting their turn, and joining ourselves to this party we
walked on board with them, apparently without exciting any suspicion.
If any of the officers thought anything about it at all, they probably
supposed we were coming to see the rest of the family off.
We went at once down to the saloon, and walking up a long passage
toward the stern, tapped at the door of one of the state-rooms. There
was no answer, so, opening the door, we peeped in.
“This will do, Tom,” whispered my companion. “See; the beds are not
made up; this cabin is not taken.”
We slipped in, shut the door, and crawled beneath the berths on either
side. For the time, at any rate, we were safe.
During the long walk of the night before we had discussed a plan of
action, and had decided that, instead of paying for our passage before
starting, we would get on board and hide, if possible, in order to
avoid unpleasant explanations until it should be too late to send us
back; in which design we had succeeded more easily than we had ventured
to hope.
In about half an hour we heard a bell ring, somebody called out,
“Any more for the shore?” and not long afterwards, with a suddenness
which made us jump, there came, just under our heads apparently, a
_chug--chug--chug!_ and a splashing of water which notified us plainly
enough that we had started. Presently, from the slight motion of the
vessel, we guessed that we were clear of the docks and were steaming
down between the Isle of Wight and the mainland. This motion continued
for a long time, and then the boat suddenly heeled over and rolled back
with a creaking of timbers and a slamming of doors which proclaimed
the fact that we had rounded the Needles and were out in the English
Channel.
“Percy,” I whispered, “I wonder what they are doing at home now.
They’ve found your sheets hanging out of the window long before this.”
“Yes. And, Tom, I wonder if Bates has ventured to climb down the
chimney yet.”
“Not he,” I replied. “The keepers might, but Bates won’t.”
We lay silent again, and presently, worn out by our long night’s tramp,
and by the exertions and excitement of the day before, we fell asleep.
It was towards evening when the ringing of the dinner-bell woke us up.
Thinking it was the calling-bell at school, Percy started up and was at
once brought to a sense of his present situation by cracking the back
of his head sharply against the bottom of the berth. Seeing that I was
moving he whispered across to me:
“Tom, shall we go out now? We must be nearly across. How long does it
take to get over to France? Do you know?”
We had both crawled from our hiding-places, and were enjoying a hearty
stretch; I had opened my mouth to reply to Percy’s question, when we
heard footsteps in the passage, and a voice saying, “Number four. Lower
berth.”
“This is number four, Percy,” I whispered, hastily. “Shall we hide?”
“No,” said he, stoutly, and “All right,” said I; and standing side by
side we looked expectantly and with something of a tremor at the door.
The door opened, and a large man in a gold-laced hat put one foot
inside the cabin and stopped, regarding us with wide-opened eyes.
Behind him we saw a steward carrying an armful of bedding.
“Well, young gentlemen,” said the gold-laced man, whom we took to be
the Captain; “where did you spring from?”
“We came on board this morning, sir,” said Percy, “and we’ve been
asleep ever since.” Then, seeing that the man looked serious, he
hastily added, “We are ready to pay for our passage, sir.”
“And, if you please, sir,” I asked, “shall we be able to get something
to eat before we land?” For I was ravenously hungry.
At this the big man broke into a big laugh. “Well, yes,” said he. “You
will be more than hungry if you don’t. Where do you suppose you are
going to?”
“France,” we both answered together.
At this the big man’s countenance fell again. Telling the attending
Steward to leave the bedding, he shut the door, and said:
“Boys, I’m afraid you have made some grievous mistake. This boat is not
going to France. We are bound for New Orleans.”
It was our turn to look grave. Instead of a passage of six or eight
hours, we were in for a sea-voyage of two or three weeks. Added to
this, if we should give up all our money it would hardly suffice to pay
our way, and moreover we should on landing be stranded, penniless, in a
strange city in what was, to me at least, a foreign land. The situation
was decidedly serious.
“How did you ever come to make such a mistake?” our interlocutor went
on. “And why didn’t you take a ticket before coming on board? A pretty
mess you’ve made of it.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, sir,” replied Percy, with a glance at me
which I answered with a nod. “We ran away from school last night and
intended to go over to France for a time; but we were afraid to offer
to pay our passage beforehand lest you should refuse to take us; so we
slipped on board and hid in this cabin.”
“Well, well! You have certainly made a mess of it. I must go and tell
the Captain----”
“The Captain! We thought you were the Captain.”
“No; I’m the Purser. How much money have you, by the way?”
“Seven pounds, sir, and twenty-five dollars.”
“Hm! Sixty dollars. Not much more than enough to pay your passage by
steerage. And then you will be left paupers in New Orleans. Hm! I must
go and talk to the Captain.”
“If you please, sir,” said Percy, “can’t we earn our passage somehow?
We are both strong, and we’ll do anything.”
“I’ll see what can be done. Meanwhile you must have something to eat.
Come with me.”
The Purser led us to the Steward’s pantry, and there left us busily and
satisfactorily engaged in demolishing a dish of cold ham and a pile of
bread and butter.
“Percy,” said I, as soon as we were left to ourselves, “we’ve got into
a pretty hobble. How are we going to get out of it?”
“I don’t know how we are going to get out of it,” replied my companion.
“Unless we should meet another ship and the Captain should send us
back we shall have to go on to New Orleans. As far as we are concerned
I don’t care; it is thinking of the folks at home that bothers me. They
won’t know what has become of us, and there will be no means of letting
them know for three weeks, perhaps. If there was any way of getting
back I’d go back, and chance being hung, rather than let them worry
over us such a long time.”
“So would I,” was my response. “It would be quite a pleasure to meet a
policeman if he would guarantee to send a message home to say we were
all right.”
Though we were, perhaps, rather a harum-scarum pair of youngsters, we
were not altogether graceless. We were very sincerely troubled about
this matter. As it happened, however, our trouble was superfluous.
Though we were not made aware of the fact until long afterwards, it may
be well to say at once that our parents had already found out where
we were, and, knowing that we were well capable of taking care of
ourselves, so far from being overwhelmed with anxiety on our account,
they were almost disposed to chuckle over the predicament in which they
guessed we must be.
If only we could have known this, what a difference it would have made
to our comfort!
But two healthy boys cannot long remain in a doleful frame of mind,
and under the genial influence of the cold ham we presently began to
brighten up.
“That Purser is a jolly old buffer,” said I; “I only hope the Captain
is half as good a fellow. Suppose they let us work our passage, what
shall we do when we get to New Orleans?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” replied Percy. “First of all, as
soon as ever we set foot on shore, we must telegraph home, if it
takes every cent we possess. Then, I propose that we take one of the
big river-steamers up to St. Louis,--working our passage, if they’ll
let us,--and from there turn eastward, ride as far as our money will
take us, and walk the rest of the way to Philadelphia. I have lots of
relations in Philadelphia, and they will help us. What do you think?”
I readily acquiesced in Percy’s plan; as, indeed, I should have done
in any other he might have proposed. It was not likely that I should
be able to contribute any valuable suggestions on the subject, for
my knowledge of American geography and American distances was quite
microscopic in its littleness. Of St. Louis I had never heard before,
while as to the other two cities, I knew that one was somewhere in the
South and the other somewhere in the East, and that was all. How far
apart they might be I had no idea.
It was well we settled upon a plan of action while we had the chance,
for, as it happened, we were destined to have few opportunities of
conversing during the rest of the voyage. One of the stewards presently
came in with a message from the Purser, to say that the Captain could
not see us until next day, and that he--the Steward--would find us a
bed. Accordingly, after going on deck in the forward part of the ship
to get a breath of fresh air for half an hour, we went to bed and slept
soundly until next morning.
Soon after breakfast, our friend (as we had come to regard him) the
Purser came and told us to follow him to the Captain’s cabin. It was
with a good deal of apprehension that we entered the sanctum of the
monarch of this little floating kingdom, but as there was nothing else
to be done we plucked up such courage as was left to us and stepped
over the threshold.
The Captain was a grey-haired, clean-shaven little man, with a keen
eye and a quick manner. He looked up as we came in.
“Oh, these are your stowaways, are they, Mr. Purser?” said he. “So you
have run away from school, have you, you young scamps? Do you know I
could put you in irons and take you back to Southampton if I chose? I’m
not sure but that I ought to do it. How am I to know that you are not
running away from the law?”
At this accidental shot Percy and I felt very uncomfortable, perceiving
which, and supposing that he had hurt our feelings, the Captain changed
his tone.
“Well, well,” said he, good-naturedly, “I don’t think that; your
appearance is in your favour; you look like an honest pair of
youngsters. So you want to work your passage, do you? Is either of you
any good at figures?”
“Yes, sir,” said I, brightening up in a moment, and pointing with my
thumb at Percy. “Goodall, here, is a regular nailer.”
“Oh, Goodall is a regular nailer, is he?” repeated the Captain,
relaxing into a smile. “Well, Mr. Purser, suppose you take this nailer
and set him to work in your office. Keep him tight at it; make him earn
his passage. And you, you great hobbledehoy,”--to me,--“what can you
do? Your hands are more use to you than your head, I’ll wager.”
I suppose my wits were somewhat confused by this sudden address; at any
rate, after a moment’s consideration, I commenced the enumeration of my
capabilities by saying thoughtfully:
“Well, sir, I’m a pretty good shot with a bow and arrow”--at which
absurd reply both the Captain and the Purser burst into peals of
laughter.
“How old are you, boy?” asked the former as soon as he had recovered
his powers of speech.
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Sixteen! I thought you were eighteen. Are you willing to shovel coal
for a living for the next two weeks?”
“Yes, sir,” said I, eagerly.
“Very well, then. The Chief Engineer tells me, Mr. Purser, that one of
his firemen is laid up with a sprained wrist; so find this boy a suit
of overalls if you can and turn him loose in the boiler-room. It is a
good hot job, and it will take off some of his flesh; he’s a deal too
fat. Now, get along with you, you young scamps, and mind you behave
yourselves.”
“Well, boys,” said the Purser, after we had retired, “you have come
out of that scrape pretty well.”
“Thanks to you, sir, I expect,” said Percy.
“I put in a good word for you, I admit,” replied our big friend. “I was
pleased with the way you spoke up last night. Now I must see to putting
you to work. Come along.”
As a result of the Purser’s arrangements Percy and I were separated;
he being pretty closely confined by his duties in the Purser’s office,
while I, dressed up in a canvas suit, was sent down into the black
depths of the ship, to shovel coal.
It would be needless repetition to go into all the details of our
voyage, every day being but a counterpart of the day before. It is
enough to say that when, after a smooth and uneventful passage, the
engines at last stopped, and I was at liberty to go on deck, I found
myself looking out over a great city,--the metropolis of the Southern
States.
Before we went ashore I was told that the Captain had sent for me to
his cabin, and as soon as I had washed and changed my canvas suit for
my own clothes I hastened to obey the message. I was about to knock at
the door when I saw Percy coming towards me, and guessing that he had
received a similar command I waited for him.
As I stood there close by the door I heard the Captain’s voice
addressing someone inside. He seemed to be much amused by something his
companion had just been telling him, for he was laughing heartily.
“Capital idea!” he exclaimed. “It will do them all the good in the
world. You may report from me that they have behaved very well, and
that in my opinion they are quite capable of taking care of themselves.”
At this moment Percy joined me, when we at once knocked at the door and
stepped into the cabin. The individual to whom the Captain had been
talking, a small, sharp-faced man in a check suit, rose as we entered,
and taking no notice of us apparently, thanked the Captain for his
information and went out.
“Well, boys,” said the Captain, “I sent for you to tell you that
I have had a satisfactory report of both of you, and to give you
this”--handing us ten dollars each; “I’m told you have earned it.
Now let me give you something else--a piece of advice. Telegraph to
your friends for the money and turn right round and go home again.
Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, sir; and thank you,” said Percy and I together, glad to be
thus dismissed without the cross-questioning to which we had feared
we might be subjected. Having then taken leave of our good friend the
Purser, we straightway went ashore.
Pausing only for a few minutes to look down upon the city, and to
wonder how the inhabitants ever dared to go to bed with that tremendous
river only awaiting an opportunity, apparently, to rush in and drown
them all before morning, we set off in search of a telegraph-office,
whence we sent a brief message home, and having also mailed a long
letter which Percy had written during the passage out, we retraced our
steps to the river-side.
As we left the post-office we noticed the sharp-faced man whom we had
seen in the Captain’s cabin. He was talking to a policeman, who, as we
passed, turned his eyes in our direction and laughed at something the
small man said. The sound of the laugh was a great relief to us. If we
were the objects of it, well and good. The policeman might laugh at us
as much as he liked, provided he did not interfere with us. To tell the
truth, we had been somewhat apprehensive lest we might on landing be
snapped up by the authorities and shipped off to England, willy-nilly.
Among the many steamboats of extraordinary shape--as they seemed to
me--lying along the levee we soon found one about to start up the
river, and stepping on board we addressed ourselves to one who appeared
to be in authority--an authority he maintained, seemingly, by the use
of a copious and needless flow of profane language.
“Well, what do you want?” asked this personage, turning upon us as
though he had been a dog, and we had come to steal his bone.
We stated our desires and our qualifications, with the result that we
both secured places as “roustabouts”; and thoroughly disgusted were we
both with our tasks long before we reached St. Louis. It was not so
much the nature of the work to which we objected, nor was it to the
society of the negroes and poor-whites with whom we were herded; our
main objection was to the stream of foul language for ever being poured
upon us by “his profanic majesty,” as Percy called him, the Mate. It
required all our resolution not to desert half-a-dozen times on the way
up, but being determined to stick to our plan, if possible, we managed
to hold on until, at last, the ordeal was over, and we found ourselves
one day walking, free and untrammelled, in the streets of St. Louis.
The first thing we did on landing was to enter a cheap clothing store
and purchase some underclothes--a much-needed addition to our wardrobe.
As we were going out again we brushed past a man who was trying on a
new necktie before a looking-glass, and happening to look into the
glass, I saw, rather to my surprise, that it was the small, sharp-faced
man whom we had twice seen in New Orleans. It struck me as being an odd
coincidence, but nothing more, and I did not even mention it to Percy.
Betaking ourselves next to a little eating-house, we ordered some
dinner, and while waiting for it Percy amused himself and me by reading
items from the old newspaper in which our clothes were wrapped.
Presently he gave a subdued whistle, and after glancing around the room
to see if anyone was observing us, he leaned across the table and said,
softly:
“Tom, here’s something about us. Listen. ‘The police of Philadelphia
have been requested by the Chief-Constable of Southampton, England, to
look out for two runaway boys. The names of the boys are Per’--there’s
a piece torn out here, but lower down it goes on--‘has many relatives
in Philadelphia, and it is expected they will probably make for that
city.’”
This was a dreadful shock to us. Here was our line of retreat cut
off, so to say. The mention of the Chief-Constable of Southampton
fully convinced us that the paragraph emanated from Sir Anthony, whose
resentment at having his pheasants shot and his keepers entrapped we
pictured to ourselves in lively colours. Doubtless, we thought, the
police of Philadelphia were all on the lookout, and should we venture
within the limits of that city we should instantly be pounced upon by
them and sent back across the water to be delivered into the clutches
of the vengeful Sir Anthony. What were we to do?
We ate our dinner in silence and perturbation of spirit, and, still
undecided as to our future course, we were about to rise and go out,
when Percy, with a thump upon the table, suddenly exclaimed:
“I know what we’ll do, Tom.”
“What?” I asked.
“Instead of going east, we’ll go west. We’ll go to Ogden in Utah.”
“Where’s Ogdenenutah?” said I, thinking it was all one word.
“In the Rocky Mountains.”
“Is it? That will suit me. I’ve always wanted to see the Rocky
Mountains. But why should we go to that place with the long name in
particular?”
“Because I have an uncle and a cousin living in a mining town called
Golconda, not far from there. I have not seen them since I was a little
bit of a boy, but I have heard my father talk of them, and I am sure
they will be just the ones to tell us what we ought to do.”
“All right,” said I. “Let us go to Ogdenenutah. How are we to get
there?”
“Why, I think we had better go part way by train and part way on foot.
It won’t do to spend all our money on railway tickets, because there’s
no knowing what may turn up. We will go by train as far as we think we
can afford to go, and walk the rest of the way to Ogden--Ogden in the
Territory of Utah, you old stupid!”
“Very well,” said I, nodding my head in approval. “We’ll go to Ogden in
the Territory of Utah. How far do you suppose we shall have to walk?”
“I can’t say for certain, of course, until I see how far our money will
take us, but five hundred miles perhaps,--possibly more.”
“Phew!” I whistled. “That is something like a walk. Never mind. We’ll
do it. We’ll go to the Territory of Ogden in Utah if we have to hop.”
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