_THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES._
CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;
OR,
THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.
BY OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,"
"THE STARRY FLAG SERIES," "THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES," ETC.
WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS.
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.
1873.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871,
BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
19 Spring Lane.
TO
MY YOUNG FRIEND
_JOSEPH H. KERNOCHAN_
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
"CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE" is the fourth of the UPWARD
AND ONWARD SERIES, in which Phil Farringford, the hero of these
stories, appears as a sailor, and makes a voyage to the coast of
Africa. His earlier experience in the yacht on Lake Michigan had,
in some measure, prepared him for a nautical life, and he readily
adapts himself to the new situation. Being a young man of energy and
determination, who puts his whole soul into the business in which
he is engaged, he rapidly masters his new calling. His companions
in the forecastle are below the average standard of character in
the mercantile marine; but Phil, constantly true to his Christian
principles, obtains an influence over some of them,--for vice always
respects virtue,--which results in the permanent reform of two of his
shipmates.
Fifteen years ago the fitting out of a slaver in New York harbor was
not an uncommon occurrence, though, happily, now the business is
wholly suppressed. What was possible then is not possible now; but the
hero of the story, and many of his shipmates, regarded the horrible
traffic with abhorrence, and succeeded in defeating the purposes
of the voyage upon which they were entrapped. In such a work their
experience was necessarily exciting, and the incidents of the story are
stirring enough to engage the attention of the young reader. But they
were battling for right, truth, and justice; and every step in this
direction must be upward and onward.
In temptation, trial, and adversity, as well as in prosperity and
happiness, Phil Farringford continues to read his Bible, to practise
the virtues he has learned in the church, the Sunday school, and of
Christian friends, and to pray on sea and on land for strength and
guidance; and the writer commends his example, in these respects, to
all who may be interested in his active career.
HARRISON SQUARE, BOSTON, August 21, 1871.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. IN WHICH PHIL TALKS OF GOING TO SEA, AND MEETS AN OLD
ACQUAINTANCE.
CHAPTER II. IN WHICH PHIL STARTS FOR NEW YORK, AND IS STOPPED ON
THE WAY.
CHAPTER III. IN WHICH PHIL GOES EAST, AND MEETS CAPTAIN
FARRADAY.
CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH PHIL VISITS THE BARK MICHIGAN, AND LOOKS AFTER
HIS FINANCES.
CHAPTER V. IN WHICH PHIL MORALIZES OVER HIS LOSS, AND HEARS FROM
ST. LOUIS.
CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH PHIL SIGNS THE SHIPPING PAPERS, AND RECOGNIZES
THE NEW MATE.
CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH PHIL ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE FROM THE BARK
MICHIGAN.
CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER, AND FINDS
SOMETHING ELSE.
CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF RATED AS AN ABLE SEAMAN IN
THE PORT WATCH.
CHAPTER X. IN WHICH PHIL STANDS HIS WATCH, AND TAKES HIS TRICK AT
THE WHEEL.
CHAPTER XI. IN WHICH PHIL MAKES A CRINGLE, AND VISITS THE
CROSS-TREES.
CHAPTER XII. IN WHICH PHIL ASCERTAINS THE DESTINATION OF THE
MICHIGAN.
CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH PHIL GOES AFT, WITH OTHERS OF THE CREW, AND
THEN GOES FORWARD.
CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH PHIL SPEAKS FOR TRUTH AND JUSTICE, AND A SAIL
IS DISCOVERED.
CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH PHIL IS ASSIGNED TO AN IMPORTANT POSITION BY
HIS SHIPMATES.
CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER IN THE
STEERAGE.
CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE
CABIN STEWARD.
CHAPTER XVIII. IN WHICH PHIL AND OTHERS VISIT THE CABIN OF THE
BARK.
CHAPTER XIX. IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS OBTAIN POSSESSION OF
THE MICHIGAN.
CHAPTER XX. IN WHICH PHIL ARGUES A POINT WITH WATERFORD, AND MOUNTS
GUARD IN THE STEERAGE.
CHAPTER XXI. IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES SECOND MATE OF THE MICHIGAN.
CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH PHIL LAYS DOWN THE LAW, AND IS AFTERWARDS
MUCH ALARMED.
CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH PHIL COUNSELS PRUDENCE, AND RESORTS TO
STRATEGY.
CHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICH PHIL PREPARES FOR A STRUGGLE, AND OPENS THE
FORE SCUTTLE.
CHAPTER XXV. IN WHICH PHIL COMPLETES THE VICTORY, AND EMPTIES THE
RUM BARRELS.
CHAPTER XXVI. IN WHICH PHIL REACHES NEW YORK, MEETS THE GRACEWOODS,
AND ABANDONS CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE.
CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;
OR,
THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.
CHAPTER I.
IN WHICH PHIL TALKS OF GOING TO SEA, AND MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
"I have a very decided fancy for going to sea, father."
"Going to sea!" exclaimed my father, opening his eyes with
astonishment. "What in the world put that idea into your head?"
I could not exactly tell what had put it there, but it was there. I had
just returned to St. Louis from Chicago, where I had spent two years
at the desk. I had been brought up in the wilds of the Upper Missouri,
where only a semi-civilization prevails, even among the white settlers.
I had worked at carpentering for two years, and I had come to the
conclusion that neither the life of a clerk nor that of a carpenter
suited me. I had done well at both; for though I was only eighteen,
I had saved about twelve hundred dollars of my own earnings, which,
added to other sums, that had fallen to me, made me rich in the sum of
thirty-five hundred dollars.
My life in the backwoods and my campaign with the Indians had given
me a taste for adventure. I wished to see more of the world. But I am
sure I should not have yielded to this fancy if it had been a mere
whim, as it is in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred with boys. I had
never left, of my own accord, a place where I worked: the places had
left me. The carpenter with whom I had served my apprenticeship gave up
business, and the firm that had employed me as assistant book-keeper
was dissolved by the death of the junior partner. I was again out of
business, and I was determined to settle what seemed to be the problem
of my life before I engaged in any other enterprise.
For eleven years of my life I had known no parents. They believed that
I had perished in the waters of the Upper Missouri. I had found my
father, who had been a miserable sot, but was now, an honest, sober,
Christian man, in a responsible position, which yielded him a salary
of three thousand dollars a year. But while he was the degraded being
I had first seen him, his wife had fled from him to the protection and
care of her wealthy father. My mother had suffered so much from my
father's terrible infirmity, that she was glad to escape from him, and
to enjoy a milder misery in her own loneliness.
Though my father had reformed his life, and become a better man than
ever before, he found it impossible to recover the companion of his
early years. She had been in Europe five years, where the health of
her brother's wife required him to live. My father had written to
Mr. Collingsby, my grandfather, and I had told him, face to face,
that I was his daughter's son; but I had been indignantly spurned and
repelled. My mother's family seemed to have used every possible effort
to keep both my father and myself from communicating with her. She had
spent the winter in Nice, and was expected to remain there till May.
[Illustration: PHIL'S INTERVIEW WITH HIS GRANDFATHER.]
I had never seen my mother since I was two years old. I had no
remembrance of her, and I did not feel that I could settle down
upon the business of life till I had told her the strange story of
my safety, and gathered together our little family under one roof.
Existence seemed to be no longer tolerable unless I could attain this
desirable result. Nice was on the Mediterranean, and, with little or no
idea of the life of a sailor, I wanted to make a voyage to that sea.
I had served the firm of Collingsby & Faxon in Chicago as faithfully
as I knew how; I had pursued and captured the former junior partner
of the firm, who had attempted to swindle his associate; and for this
service my grandfather and his son had presented me the yacht in which
the defaulter had attempted to escape. In this craft I had imbibed a
taste for nautical matters, and I wished to enlarge my experience on
the broad ocean, which I had never seen.
In pursuing Mr. Collingsby's junior partner, I had run athwart the
hawse of Mr. Ben Waterford, a reckless speculator, and the associate
of the defaulter, who had attempted to elope with my fair cousin,
Marian Collingsby. I had thus won the regard of the Collingsbys, while
I had incurred the everlasting hatred of Mr. Waterford, whose malice
and revenge I was yet to feel. But in spite of the good character
I had established, and the service I had rendered, the family of my
mother refused to recognize me, or even to hear the evidence of my
relationship. I thought that they hated my father, and intended to do
all they could to keep him from seeing her. Her stay in Europe was
prolonged, and I feared that her father and brother were using their
influence to keep her there, in order to prevent my father or me from
seeing her.
I was determined to see her, and to fight my way into her presence if
necessary. At the same time I wanted to learn all about a ship, and
about navigation. I had flattered myself that I should make a good
sailor, and I had spent my evenings, during the last year of my stay
in Chicago, in studying navigation. Though I had never seen the ocean,
I had worked up all the problems laid down in the books. I wanted to
go to sea, and to make my way from a common sailor up to the command
of a ship. I say I wanted to do this, and the thought of it furnished
abundant food for my imagination; but I cannot say that I ever expected
to realize my nautical ambition. I had borrowed a sextant, and used it
on board of my boat, so that I was practically skilled in its use. I
had taken the latitude and longitude of many points on Lake Michigan,
and proved the correctness of my figures by comparing them with the
books.
I intended to go to Nice, whether I went to sea as a sailor or not. I
had sold my boat for eight hundred dollars, and with seven hundred more
I had saved from my salary, I had fifteen hundred dollars, which I was
willing to devote to the trip to Europe. But somehow it seemed to go
against my grain to pay a hundred dollars or more for my passage, when
I wanted to obtain knowledge and experience as a sailor. I preferred
to take a place among the old salts in the forecastle, go aloft, hand,
reef, and steer, to idling away my time in the cabin.
"I want to be a sailor, father," I added. "I want to know the business,
at least."
"I'm afraid that boat on the lake has turned your head, Philip," said
my father. "Why, you never even saw the ocean."
"Well, I have seen the lake, and the ocean cannot be very much
different from it, except in extent."
"But the life of a sailor is a miserable one. You will be crowded into
a dirty forecastle with the hardest kind of men."
"I am willing to take things as they come. I am going to Nice, at any
rate, and I may as well work my passage there, and learn what I wish to
know, as to be a gentleman in the cabin."
"You are old enough to think for yourself, Philip; but in my opinion,
one voyage will satisfy you."
"If it does, that's the end of the idea."
"Do you expect to go to work in a ship just as you would in a store,
and leave her when it suits your own convenience?" asked my father,
with a smile.
"I can ship to some port on the Mediterranean, and leave the vessel
when she reaches her destination."
"I think not. I believe sailors ship for the voyage out and home,
though you may be able to make such an arrangement as you propose. I
don't like your plan, Philip. You are going to find your mother. It is
now the middle of March. If you get off by the first of April, you may
make a long passage, and perhaps not reach Nice till your mother has
gone from there."
"I shall follow her, if I go all over Europe," I replied.
"But don't you think it is absurd to subject yourself and me to all
this uncertainty?"
"Perhaps it is; but I wanted to kill two birds with one stone."
"When you throw one stone at two birds, you are pretty sure to hit
neither of them. Be sensible, Philip. Go to New York, take a steamer to
Liverpool or Havre, and then proceed to Nice by railroad. You will be
there in a fortnight after you start."
My father was very earnest in his protest against my plan, and finally
reasoned me out of it. I believed that fathers were almost always
right, and I was unwilling to take the responsibility of disregarding
his advice, even while he permitted me to do as I pleased. I had been
idle long enough to desire to be again engaged in some active pursuit
or some stirring recreation. I abandoned my plan; but circumstances
afterwards left me no alternative but to adopt it again.
I immediately commenced making my preparations for the trip to Europe,
and in three days I was ready to depart. I had called upon and bade
adieu to all my friends in St. Louis, except Mr. Lamar, a merchant who
had been very kind to me in the day of adversity. On the day before
I intended to start, I went to his counting-room, and found him busy
with a gentleman. I waited till he was disengaged, and picked up The
Reveille to amuse myself for the time. Before I could become interested
in the contents of the newspaper, the voice of the gentleman with whom
the merchant was occupied attracted my attention. I looked at him a
second time, and as he turned his head I recognized Mr. Ben Waterford.
I was conscious that this man was my enemy for life. I was rather
startled, for I assure my sympathizing reader that I was not at all
anxious to meet him. The last time I had seen him was on the bank of
Lake Michigan, at the mouth of a creek where I had left him, having
taken possession of his yacht, after a hard battle with him, in order
to prevent him from running away with my fair cousin, Miss Marian
Collingsby. I had entirely defeated his plans, as well as those of Mr.
Whippleton, Mr. Collingsby's partner; and when the business affairs of
the latter were examined, they involved those of the former. He was
driven into bankruptcy, and did not again show his face in Chicago.
Very likely, if I had not thwarted him, he would have married the
daughter of Mr. Collingsby, and, perhaps, at the same time, have saved
himself from financial ruin.
I read my newspaper, and hoped Mr. Ben Waterford would not see me. I
was rather curious to know what business he had with Mr. Lamar. I could
hear an occasional word, and I was soon satisfied that the parties were
talking about lands. The Chicago gentleman was at his former business,
evidently; for then he had been a speculator in lands. I could not
understand how one as effectually cleaned out as he was represented to
be could have any lands to sell, or any funds to buy them.
"How are you, Phil? How do you do?" said Mr. Lamar, as, for the first
time, he happened to discover me.
"Don't let me disturb you, sir. I will wait," I replied.
"Ah, Phil! how do you do?" added Mr. Waterford; and I thought or
imagined that there was a flush on his face, as though the meeting was
no more agreeable to him than to me.
I shook hands with Mr. Lamar, but I had not the hypocrisy to do so with
the Chicago swindler, though he made a motion in that direction. He was
not glad to see me, though he smiled as sweetly as the rose in June.
"Take a seat, Phil," continued Mr. Lamar. "I will think of the
matter, Mr. Waterford," he added, as the latter turned to leave the
counting-room.