polite, though, to be sure, his appearance was hardly as prepossessing
as it might have been.
"The captain seems to be a very nice man," said he to Randall, after
that officer had left them.
"Oh, yes," answered Randall, dryly, "a very fine man the captain is.
I'm glad you like him."
"Have you been to sea a long time?" inquired Charlie.
"Yes, I have been ever since I was a boy."
"Do you like it?"
"Very much. It seems like home to me now. I shouldn't be willing to
live on land for any length of time."
"Did you begin very young?"
"I was about sixteen. How old are you?"
"Almost fourteen. I shall be fourteen next month."
"You are a very good size for your age."
"Yes," said Charlie, with boyish pride, drawing himself up to his full
height. Like most boys, he liked to be told he was large of his age.
"My father was quite a large man," added our young hero.
"I know it," muttered Randall to himself, as the handsome face and
manly form of the father rose before him. They were imprinted more
vividly upon his memory, because he felt that it was these very
advantages which had enabled his rival to succeed in winning the prize
for which he had vainly contended.
"Did you speak?" said Charlie, hearing indistinctly the words which his
companion muttered.
"No," said Randall, shortly. "But I promised to show you something
about the vessel. I suppose you know the names of the masts."
"Yes, sir."
"What do they call this?"
"This is the main-mast," answered Charlie, promptly, "and the others
are called the fore-mast and mizzen-mast."
"That is right; I suppose the masts seem high to you."
"Yes, very high," said Charlie, stretching his neck to enable him to
see the top.
"Then you don't think you should like to go aloft?" said Randall,
playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse.
"I don't believe I could. It would make me dizzy."
"You could do better than you think for, if you were obliged to."
"Perhaps I might," said Charlie, doubtfully. "Do the boys on board ship
have to go up there?"
"I had to when I was a boy."
"Wer'n't you afraid?"
"I suppose I was, but that didn't do any good,--I had to go."
"Wer'n't you afraid of losing your hold?"
"Yes, but it isn't often a boy loses his hold going up the first time.
He is so frightened that he clings to the ropes with a pretty tight
grip. But after he gets used to it--and it doesn't seem any worse
than going up stairs--he is apt to grow careless, and then there is
sometimes an accident."
"Then I suppose they fall on deck and are instantly killed," said
Charlie, shuddering.
"Not always, for when the ship is in progress it leans a good deal, so
that they are more likely to fall overboard."
"And get drowned!"
"Sometimes. They can't always keep up till assistance comes, especially
if they can't swim. Sometimes their fall is broken by the rigging, and
they manage to save themselves by catching hold."
They visited other parts of the ship, and Randall continued his
explanations. The sailors were all on board, at work in various ways.
They did not appear to notice the mate and his young companion when
they passed, but Charlie, chancing to look behind him, observed one
making a significant gesture to another, which evidently referred to
them.
Our young hero mentally thought this not very polite, but did not pay
much attention to it.
About this time a porter arrived from the clothing-store already
referred to, bringing a small blue chest.
"This is the ship Bouncing Betsey, isn't it?" he inquired.
"Yes," answered one of the sailors.
"I was told to bring this chest here, then."
"Who is it for?"
"Jack Randall."
"That's the mate, you lubber. Why don't you put a handle to his name?"
"No, it's for a boy."
"We haven't got any such boy aboard as I knows on."
"There ain't two ships of this name, are there?"
"Not as I ever heerd tell."
"Then this must be the ship. Where shall I stow this chest? I've got
tired of bringing it on my back."
"You'd better go and speak to the mate about it. There he stands.
Mayhap that's the boy the kit belongs to."
The porter walked forward.
"Does this belong to you?" he asked, laying down the chest.
"Yes."
"Then it wasn't for a boy?"
"Yes," answered the mate, carelessly. "It is for a nephew of mine who
is going with us this voyage."
"Is that the young gentleman?" asked the porter, pointing to Charlie.
"He thinks you're my nephew," said Randall, smiling. "A good joke,
isn't it?"
"This young gentleman is only looking about the ship a little," he
answered. "He don't think he should fancy going to sea."
"Beg pardon, I didn't know but he might be the one."
"Oh, no, certainly not."
"Shall I leave the chest here?"
"Yes, anywhere. No, you may carry it below. Here," summoning one of
the sailors, "Show this man where to put this chest."
"So your nephew is going to sea," said Charlie, with some curiosity.
"Yes."
"Does he think he shall like to go?"
"I don't believe he thinks much about it."
"How large a boy is he?"
"I should think he was about as large as you. Yes, come to think of it,
I don't believe there can be any difference between you."
The joke was a cruel one, as Charlie found to his cost, before long.
"Is he on board now?"
"I don't see him," said the mate, looking in the opposite direction
from where Charlie was standing. "But I think he will be on board very
soon. Were you ever dressed in sailor's clothes?"
"Never," said our hero.
"I wonder how you would look. You are just about my nephew's size. Have
you any objection to trying on his clothes?"
Charlie had not. In fact he was rather curious to learn how he should
look in this unusual attire. Accordingly he went below, and was soon
dressed in full sailor rig. It was a very good fit, and very becoming
to our hero, who was a remarkably handsome boy.
"A good fit, is it not?" asked the mate.
"Excellent," said Charlie.
"One would almost think the clothes were meant for you," said Randall,
with a smile, which Charlie did not understand.
X.
CHARLIE IN A TIGHT PLACE.
Charlie surveyed himself in his new attire with some complacency.
He felt that it was becoming, and it gave him a new feeling of
manliness. In fact it seemed to him, for the time being, as if he were
really a sailor. Charlie, however, though he was very well pleased
with his sailor's rig, did not feel in the least tempted to wear it
professionally. Accordingly, after the survey was over, he began to
divest himself of it.
"What are you doing?" asked the mate, laying his hand heavily upon the
shoulder of our young hero.
"Taking off your nephew's clothes," returned Charlie, looking up in
considerable surprise at the tone in which he was addressed.
"What's that for?"
"To put on my own."
"Then you needn't trouble yourself," said Randall, composedly; "those
you have on are your own."
"What do you mean?" asked Charlie meeting the mate's triumphant look
with an open, manly glance.
"I mean," said Randall, with a sardonic look, "that the clothes were
bought for the one who now wears them."
"Bought for me!" exclaimed Charlie, in great bewilderment.
"Yes. You wondered how they happened to fit you so well. That is easily
explained. They were picked out on purpose for you. The old Jew in the
clothing-store took your measure with his eye while you were standing
there with me. Faith, he's got a pretty sharp eye."
"But your nephew?" said Charlie, his heart sinking, as he began to
comprehend the plot to which he had fallen a victim; "I thought you
said they belonged to him."
"Well," said Randall, with a harsh laugh, "you're my nephew."
"I am not," said Charlie, with something of haughtiness in his tone, as
he surveyed the mate scornfully.
"He's got his mother's look," muttered the latter. "That's the way
she looked when she sent me about my business. She'd look something
different, I fancy, if she knew I'd got her boy in my power. I've got
the whip-hand of her now, and she'll live yet to repent the day she
rejected Jack Randall."
These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, and did not
prevent his answering at once Charlie's bold denial.
"There's a little too much pride about you, youngster. It'll need
taming down. You're to be my nephew while you're aboard this ship.
Remember, your name is Jack Randall. Take care that you claim no other."
"What good will that do?" said Charlie. "I am not going to remain on
board."
"You're not, eh?" said the mate, significantly.
"No," said Charlie, boldly.
"Suppose I say you shall."
"Then," said Charlie, firmly, "I say you are mistaken."
Our hero was a boy of spirit, and had no idea of being disposed of
without his own consent. He commenced tugging away at his blue jacket
with the intention of pulling it off.
"What are you doing?" asked Randall, with a frown, advancing and laying
a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Haven't I told you to keep those
clothes on?"
"You have no right to interfere with me," said Charlie, stoutly, his
eye flashing with indignation. "Give me back my clothes."
"You can't have them. If you strip off those you have on you'll have to
go without any."
Exasperated, Charlie made a spring forward, and attempted to wrest his
clothes from the hands of the mate.
"Ha, my fine fellow!" exclaimed Randall, as, evading the boy's grasp,
he lifted them beyond his reach. "So you are inclined to be mutinous,
are you? Very well, we have a remedy for all such cases, and a very
simple one it is."
So saying, he drew a stout cord from his pocket, and advanced towards
our hero with the intention of binding him.
Charlie sprang for the stairs, and was half way up before the mate
caught him and dragged him back.
"Well, boy, you're a pretty tough customer--true grit. You're just the
boy to make a sailor of. I must make sure of you."
So saying, he succeeded, in spite of Charlie's vigorous exertions, in
tying his hands and feet. Not until thus rendered quite helpless did
the brave boy suffer himself to burst into tears.
"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.
"I am going to make a sailor of you," answered the mate.
"But I don't want to go to sea," answered Charlie.
"So you said once before, but you'll change your mind before long."
"My mother will not know where I am. She can't get along without me,
for she depends upon me in part for support."
"I dare say she'll get along somehow," said Randall, coolly. "She won't
miss you much, and she ought to feel glad that your uncle has taken
charge of you."
"Uncle!" retorted the boy, with flashing eyes. "I wouldn't own you as
uncle for all the money in Boston."
"You wouldn't!" said Randall, his tone changing, and a dark look
overspreading his face. "Very well, my bold lad, you may have reason to
repent those words. You may find out by and by that it is as well to
be civil to your superior officer. I will do nothing about it now, but
when we are out of port and fairly at sea, look out!"
Charlie, who was quick-witted, caught a hint from these words, and at
once set up a scream, hoping to draw attention from outside.
"That's your game, is it?" said the mate. "We'll soon stop that."
So saying, he drew out the boy's own handkerchief, and gagged him
so that there was no further fear of his being able to make any
disturbance which could be heard on the wharf or on neighboring vessels.
Feeling now secure, he left Charlie mute and helpless, and ascended to
the deck.
"What was the noise I heard below, Mr. Randall?" asked the captain,
pausing in his walk, and addressing his first officer.
"My nephew!" said Randall, with a smile.
"Ha! he is a little obstreperous, is he?"
"A trifle so."
"Doesn't like the society of his uncle sufficiently to want to go to
sea with him, I suppose?"
"I dare say he would like to change his quarters," said Randall,
composedly.
"How did you reconcile him to his fate?"
"A couple of strong cords and a gag did the business. They will keep
him quiet till we get out to sea, and then perhaps we can discover some
other means of bringing him to terms."
"A slightly different application of the cords, perhaps, Mr. Randall."
The mate smiled approval of this jest, and as his services were now in
requisition to expedite preparations for departure, he left the captain
and went about his duty.
Meanwhile the mate's conduct had not been unobserved by the crew. Among
these was an old sailor who rejoiced in the name of Bill Sturdy. It is
needless to say that this was not his real name. No one appeared to
know what his real name was, and he had become so used to this, that he
generally called himself so. The name Sturdy had probably been given
him on account of his sturdy make. He was stout and very powerful.
Probably there were no two men on board the ship who would not have
felt some hesitation in attacking Bill Sturdy.
It may be added that the name was no less appropriate if we consider
it bestowed on account of his character and disposition. He was
unpolished enough, having beaten about the world all his life, yet he
had been gifted by nature with a fund of sturdy common sense and powers
of observation which made him more thoughtful and intelligent than most
of his class. He had a kind heart, and hated to see oppression. This
was his first voyage on board the Bouncing Betsey; the ship on which he
had last served having been wrecked, and he with a few others having,
with difficulty, saved themselves. Since he had engaged on board the
Betsey, the stories he had heard of the captain's brutality led him
to repent of his determination, and he had resolved within himself to
remain on board but a single voyage.
He had had his attention drawn to our hero and the mate, and he
observed that the latter came up alone from below.
"That's a trim, handsome little lad," he said to himself; "I wonder
what the mate is so attentive to him for. There's some deviltry in the
wind, as sure as my name is Bill Sturdy. I hope, for the boy's sake, he
isn't going to ship with us. If he does. I must do what I can for him,
for I mistrust he'll want a friend."
XI.
OFF TO SEA.
The thoughts of our young hero as he lay helpless, gagged and bound,
were hardly of the most cheerful character. The blow had been so
sudden, that he was quite unprepared for it. Added to this, his
apprehensions were vague and indefinite. There seemed something
mysterious about the manner in which he had been spirited away, and
this thought increased his feeling of discomfort. A danger which can
be measured and comprehended in its full extent may be boldly faced,
however great, but when we are ignorant of its nature and extent that
is not so easy.
Charlie understood as much as this, that it was the intention of
Randall to carry him off to sea. But why he should have taken such
pains to ensnare him, when there are always plenty of boys glad to
obtain such a situation, he could not conceive.
Charlie was no coward. He was no stranger to the bold spirit of
adventure by which boys of his age are apt to be animated. Indeed,
under different circumstances, and if the arrangement had been of his
own free choice, it is quite possible that he might have looked forward
with pleasurable anticipations to the life that awaited him. But there
was one thought uppermost in his mind that gave him no little pain
and anxiety, the thought of his mother. He was her all. In the large
and busy city she knew but very few; she had none whom she could call
friends. Her hopes were all centred in him. Still farther, it was in a
great measure owing to his activity and industry that she had been able
to live with a degree of comfort, for though she was always at work,
the avenues of industry open to women are few, and toil at the needle
is so unsatisfactorily compensated that Charlie, though working fewer
hours, was able to contribute considerably more than half of the sum
required for their joint support.
How would his mother get along during his absence, the length of which
he could not estimate? Would she suffer not only in mind but in bodily
discomfort? Well he remembered how pleasantly the evenings had passed
when they were together. Now there must be a long separation. Would
he ever see his mother again? She would not be able to retain their
present lodging, now that the entire rent would fall to her to pay.
Perhaps when he did he should be unable to obtain any clew to her
whereabouts. This was indeed a terrible thought to poor Charlie, who
chafed like a caged lion in his confinement. He endeavored to unloose
the cords which bound him, but with little prospect of success; for no
one better than a sailor understands the art of tying a knot securely.
While Charlie was doing his utmost to free himself from the cords that
bound him, having already removed the gag, he was startled by a low
laugh of triumphant malice.
Looking up, he saw the mate, the author of all his misfortunes,
watching him with great apparent enjoyment.
"Ah, Jack," he said, "I see you are hard at work. Work away. If you
untie those knots you've got more skilful fingers than the one that
tied them, that's all."
"Come and release me," said Charlie. "You have no right to keep me
here."
"You are mistaken," said the mate, coolly. "I have the best of all
rights."
"And what right is that?" demanded our hero.
"_The right of power!_" answered Randall. "Might makes right, perhaps
you have heard."
"How long are you going to keep me here?" asked Charlie, after a pause.
"Till we get far enough out to sea to make it safe to release you."
Charlie kept silence. He felt that it would be useless to appeal to the
mercy of the mate, who appeared bent upon carrying him away. He turned
his face resolutely away from Randall, for whom he began to entertain
a stronger feeling of dislike than he had supposed himself capable
of feeling. Hitherto he had only been accustomed to an atmosphere of
affection, and though he had met with some rebuffs in his daily search
for employment, he could always return at night to a home and a mother,
with whom he could forget whatever had been disagreeable during the
day. Now his position was entirely changed. The only one he knew on
board the vessel was one whom he had no reason to believe friendly, but
very much the reverse.
By this time the noise upon deck, which he could hear plainly, had
become greater and greater. He could hear frequent orders given by the
captain, and also by the mate, who had now returned to his post.
Soon the vessel, which had been at rest, appeared to be moving. He
could hear the plashing of the water against its sides. He felt that it
was in motion, slow at first, but afterwards more rapid. He conjectured
that the ship was being towed out to sea by a steam-tug.
He wished that at least he could get to a window, and catch a last
glimpse of the land to which he was about to bid so unexpected a
farewell. But this, tied hand and foot as he was, was impossible, and
he felt that now it would do him no good even if he should succeed
in breaking his bonds. Already they were speeding out to sea as fast
as the tug could convey them. There was no redress or help for him
beyond the limits of the vessel in which his tyrants exercised absolute
control, for he felt well assured that Captain Brace was in league with
the mate, or, at all events, would interpose his authority to support
Randall in his plans.
So time sped on, the ship continuing all the while in steady motion.
At length the tug left them and returned to the city, leaving the
vessel to shift for itself. Although Charlie could not see what was
going on, he judged this from the noise and shouts of command given
above, to which he listened with sharpened attention.
Charlie felt that with the departure of the steam-tug all possibility
of escape had passed. The last link which had bound him to the shore
had been snapped asunder.
While he was plunged in sorrowful thought he suddenly heard a step
descending the stairs.
Thinking it was the mate, of whom he felt that he should see in future
much more than he cared, he did not turn his head.
"Hallo, my lad," was the salutation of the new-comer, in a rough, but
hearty voice, "how came you in this trim?"
It was not the mate's harsh voice. Quickly turning round, Charlie's
eyes rested on the bronzed but good-humored face of Bill Sturdy, the
stout sailor to whom reference has already been made. Whatever may be
thought of physiognomy as an index of character, it is undeniable that
we are either attracted to or repelled from certain faces.
Now the first sight of Bill Sturdy's honest and good-humored face
seemed to Charlie like a ray of light in a dark place. He felt that
he was a man to be trusted.
"Will you be a friend to me?" asked Charlie, with instinctive
confidence.
"That I will, my lad," exclaimed Bill, with hearty emphasis; "but tell
me who tied you up in this fashion?"
"His name is Randall, and I believe he is the mate."
"The lubberly rascal! And what did he do that for?"
"He entrapped me on board the vessel, and now he is carrying me out to
sea, against my will."
"How came you in your sailor's rig?" asked Sturdy.
Charlie explained the trick which had been practised upon him, which
Bill Sturdy denounced in good set terms, though possibly more strong
than refined.
"He's a rascal; there ain't a doubt of that," said Bill. "I should like
to overhaul him, and teach him better manners. As for you, my lad, I'm
sorry for you. You've shipped for the v'y'ge, and there ain't any help
for it, as I see. But you may depend upon one thing, old Bill Sturdy
will look out for you, and will be your friend."
"Thank you," said our hero, feeling more cheerful and hopeful. It was
something to have one friend on board.
"I mistrust there are some rascals aboard," muttered Bill to himself,
as he went up on deck. "They'd better not interfere with me or that
young lad!" and he extended his muscular arm with a sense of power.
XII.
LANDLORD AND TENANT.
The payment of a thousand dollars to Randall had been a severe blow
to old Peter Manson, and this consideration materially lessened the
satisfaction which he felt in Charlie's removal.
We re-introduce him to our readers, engaged, as usual, in counting over
his hoards. Preparatory to doing so, he carefully secured the outer
door, and also the door of the apartment which he occupied.
Then lifting up a plank from the floor, he raised from beneath a large
box containing gold coins. It was very heavy, and it was not without
difficulty that the old man, who was very feeble, succeeded in lifting
it to a level with the floor.
The box was, perhaps, four fifths full.
The old man surveyed the deficiency with a groan.
"It might have been full," he muttered, "if I hadn't been obliged to
pay away such a sight of money to that determined man. One thousand
dollars! two hundred bright, sparkling coins! How many, many weary days
it will take before I can supply their place. It was all but full. It
wanted only ten more coins to make five thousand dollars. Oh gold, gold,
gold! How beautiful you are! To me you are food and drink and clothing
and friends and relations. I care for nothing but you."
While Peter was indulging in this soliloquy, he was engaged in counting
the coins in the box.
The result of the count showed one less than he had anticipated.
The old man turned pale.
"Some one has robbed me," he muttered. "Or, perchance, I have counted
wrong. I will go over it again."
This he did with eager haste and a feeling of nervous anxiety, and, to
his no small dismay, the count resulted as before.
"They have taken my money!" exclaimed Peter, tearing his white hair in
anguish. "They will make me a beggar, and I shall be reduced to want in
my old age. Oh, oh!"
In the midst of his lamentations he suddenly discovered the missing
coin, which had rolled away, without his observing it, to the opposite
side of the room.
Chuckling with delight, he picked it up and replaced it in the box.
His duty satisfactorily performed, the miser put on his cloak, and
prepared for another task. This was, to raise Mrs. Codman's rent,
and so compel her to leave the rooms which she rented of him. This,
however, was unnecessary, since, deprived of Charlie's earnings, his
mother would have found it impossible to pay the rent previously
demanded.
Peter Manson resolved to call upon his tenant in person. He was not
afraid of recognition. He felt that the changes which twenty years had
wrought in his appearance, would be a sufficient protection. Indeed,
this had already been tested; for Peter had already called several
times on the same errand, without attracting a glance which could be
construed into recognition.