glad to avail myself of your services. Should you be willing to engage
for three months at first, to see how we are mutually pleased with each
other? The pupil I have to offer you is a little addicted to mischief,
and I don't know how you may like her."
"I am quite willing to enter into such an arrangement," said Mrs.
Codman; "and in reference to the last point, I am quite sure I shall
like my pupil. I begin to like her already."
"Do you?" said Bert, with much satisfaction, rising from the ottoman,
and unceremoniously dropping the black kitten, who turned a somerset,
and ran off shaking her head.
In answer, Mrs. Codman held out her hand with a smile.
Bert hurried across the room, and placed her own in it confidingly.
"I am so glad you do," said she. "You won't make me study my eyes out,
will you?"
"That would, indeed, be a pity," said Mrs. Codman, looking at Bert's
bright eyes, sparkling with fun and mischief.
Mr. Bowman observed these signs of agreement between Bert and her new
governess with pleasure, and hastened to say, "In regard to business
arrangements we will speak by and by. I think I can promise that they
will be satisfactory to you."
It may be mentioned here, that Mr. Bowman, who was by no means disposed
to deal parsimoniously with those in his employ, fixed Mrs. Codman's
salary at six hundred dollars a year, which was four times as much as
she had ever been able to gain by her needle.
"When may we expect you?" he asked. "You have, doubtless, some
preliminary arrangements to make, for which you will please take
whatever time you may require. Meanwhile, accept this sum in advance."
He drew from his pocket-book a fifty-dollar note, which he handed to
Mrs. Codman. She could not feel any embarrassment in accepting a sum
so tendered, and bowing her thanks, intimated that she would make her
appearance on the following Monday, it being now Thursday.
The advance payment proved very acceptable to Mrs. Codman, as with it
she was enabled to replenish her wardrobe, a step rendered necessary by
her residence in Mr. Bowman's family. She was busily engaged for the
remainder of the week in supplying its deficiencies.
No one could be more overjoyed than was the humble washer-woman at
the success of her friend, of which she felt sure from the first,
knowing Mrs. Codman to be a _rale lady_. The latter, feeling that she
owed her present good fortune mainly to the zealous recommendation of
her friendly neighbor, purchased a neat dress, which Mrs. O'Grady was
prevailed upon to accept, on being convinced she would not thereby be
distressing herself, a fact of which she was assured on being told of
Mr. Bowman's liberality.
Yet there was, as the reader well knows, one thought which contributed
to diminish the joy which Mrs. Codman would otherwise have felt at
being restored, in a measure, to the mode of life to which she had been
accustomed, and relieved from the necessity of unremitting labor in
order to sustain life. This was, the thought of Charlie, her own brave,
handsome boy, who had been the joy and life of her little household,
now gone,--she knew not whither. The uncertainty as to his fate cost
her many a sleepless night. She was sustained, however, by a strong
confidence that he was yet living, and had little doubt that the
suggestion of Peter Manson was correct, that he had been carried off by
the captain of some vessel short of hands. Of course, she did not for
an instant harbor the suspicion that Peter himself had had anything to
do with his disappearance, being quite unaware that any motive existed
powerful enough to tempt the old man to such a crime.
"I shall hear from him; I shall see him again," she said, with earnest
conviction. "He is under the eye of Providence, wherever he may be, and
no harm shall befall him."
Still, even with this strong feeling of trust, there was an
uncertainty about the time when her wishes could be realized, which
could not fail to weigh upon the mother's heart. Then there was the
constant longing for his bright and enlivening presence, greater,
because he was her only child, and she was a widow.
The furniture which Mrs. Codman had in her rooms she was enabled to
dispose of without a very great sacrifice. She reserved a few articles,
endeared to her by association, which she stored in the room of her
friendly neighbor.
With her, also, she left a sum of money, sufficient to pay for her
month's rent, which would not be due for a fortnight after her removal
to the house of Mr. Bowman. Peter Manson was not a little surprised
and disappointed when, on visiting his tenant,--prepared to witness
her distress and hear entreaties for a reduction of her rent,--to find
her already gone, and to hear that she had obtained an advantageous
situation, though where, he was unable to ascertain, as Mrs. O'Grady,
with whom he was no favorite, was not disposed to be communicative.
Leaving Mrs. Codman thus comfortably provided for, we must now follow
the fortunes of our young hero, Charlie, whom we left securely bound in
the forecastle of the Bouncing Betsey.
XVI.
THE BEGINNING OF CHARLIE'S SEA-LIFE.
When the Bouncing Betsey was fairly out to sea, Captain Brace,
anticipating, with the malicious delight which a petty tyrant feels in
the sufferings of those subject to him, the grief and terror of our
young hero, ordered Charlie to be released from his bonds and brought
before him.
This order the mate chose to execute in person.
The pressure of the cords, with which he had been bound, had chafed his
limbs, and the constraint of his position had made them ache.
As the mate busied himself in unbinding him, Charlie inquired, with a
glimmering of hope, "Are you going to let me go?"
"Where?" asked Randall.
"On shore."
"Perhaps you don't know that, by this time, we are at least forty miles
from Boston."
"Could you send me back?" asked Charlie, his heart sinking within him.
"I suppose we might turn the ship about, and go back for your
accommodation," said the mate, with a sneer; "but I don't think Capt.
Brace would consent."
"Is there no way?" implored Charlie. "Couldn't you put me on board some
ship going back?"
"You can speak to the captain about that. He has sent for you. Come
along, and don't be all day about it."
Charlie stretched himself with the intent of gaining some relief from
the stricture he had suffered, and prepared to do what he knew there
was no means of evading, he followed Randall to the presence of Capt.
Brace.
"Well, Jack," said Capt. Brace, showing his teeth in an unpleasant
manner, "how do you like life on shipboard?"
"My name is not Jack," was our hero's reply.
"Indeed! Perhaps you will do me the favor to tell me what is it."
"My name," said our hero, not liking the captain's tone, "is Charlie
Codman."
"So you pretend to be wiser than your uncle," said Capt. Brace, looking
towards the mate.
"He is not my uncle," said Charlie, boldly. If he had felt it to be
prudent, he would have added that he had no desire for a relationship
to Randall, but he knew that it would not be wise.
"Do you dare to contradict my first officer?" demanded the captain,
with a frown.
"I am only telling the truth," said Charlie, undauntedly.
"_Silence!_" roared the captain, in a passion. "If he chooses to call
you his nephew, you shall be so; do you hear that? I say, do you hear
that?" he repeated, pounding with his clenched fist upon the table
before him.
"Yes, sir," said our hero.
"Take care that you remember it then. Your name, henceforth, is Jack
Randall,--at any rate, as long as you remain aboard this ship."
"How long am I to remain on board, sir?" Charlie could not help asking.
"How long?" repeated the captain. "_Forever_, if I choose. And now as
this is the last conversation which I intend to hold with you on this
point, you will bear in mind that you are shipped on board this vessel
as a boy, and that, if you don't do your duty you'll get----"
We suppress the word with which the captain closed his sentence, not
being willing to soil our pages with it.
This was rather a hard trial for our young hero, accustomed to a
mother's gentle and affectionate words. Had he been less manly, he
would have burst into tears; but he only turned pale a little, and bit
his lips.
"Take him on deck, Mr. Randall, and set him to work," said the captain;
"and mind, Jack, that I don't hear any complaints of you."
Charlie followed the mate to the deck. He had made up his mind that he
must stay in the ship during the voyage, or, at all events until they
reached land somewhere, and resolved that, since it was forced upon
him, he would do his duty as well as he could, and so afford as little
advantage as possible to those who seemed determined to persecute him.
He was set to work by Randall, who told him, in a sharp tone, to "mind
his eye and keep to work, if he knew what was best for himself."
The work was not difficult, but Charlie's fingers were unpractised,
and he might very soon have incurred the wrath of the captain and
mate, if Bill Sturdy, the sailor whose friendly advances to our hero
have already been noticed, had not approached him, the mate being
temporarily out of earshot, and given him a little instruction.
"Well, my lad, what news?" inquired Bill. "Shipped for the voyage, are
you?"
"That's what the captain and mate say," returned Charlie.
"They're a pair of precious rascals," said Bill, lowering his voice,
"and it's my opinion they're well matched, so far as villainy goes."
"What made you ship on board the vessel?" inquired Charlie.
"Bless your soul, boy, I wouldn't a done it if I'd known who was in
command; leastways, if I had known a little more about him. But I
didn't ask any questions. I had just got in from a v'y'ge to Calcutta,
and happened to see one of my old shipmates, Jim Davis, walking on
the wharf. 'Bill,' says he, 'why won't you ship along of me?' I asked
him where he was bound, and he telled me to Valparaiso, on board the
Bouncing Betsey. Well, I've been most everywhere else, but I had never
been there, and reckoned I should like to see it. Besides, I'd got
tired of going to Calcutta. I've been there, man and boy, six or eight
times. It's too hot to live there some parts of the year. So I just
told him I was in for it if he was, provided there was a vacancy. I
asked him if he knew anything about the officers. He said he didn't,
but he guessed they would pass. So I just stepped into the office and
shipped. There, lad, that's the whole story. I don't mind it much
myself. They don't generally meddle much with me."
"Have you sailed with bad captains before?" inquired our hero.
"Yes, my lad, sometimes. One captain I sailed with--I was a young man
then--was Captain Maguire. He was a sort of an Irishman, I surmise, and
mighty fond of drink. He was pleasant enough when he was sober, but
that wasn't often. When he was drunk, he got into a regular fury. He
would tear round the deck like as he was crazy, and so he was after a
fashion, for he didn't seem to know, after he had got out of his fits,
what he had done when he was in 'em. One day, I remember, as I was at
work, he came up to me, and gave me a terrible thwack side of the head,
swearing like a trooper all the time."
"What did you do?" asked Charlie, looking up with interest into the
weather-beaten face of the old sailor.
"I'll tell you," said Sturdy; "you see, I'm pretty strong," glancing
at his brawny arms and herculean frame with pardonable complacency; "I
don't often meet a man I can't manage as easily as the mate can manage
you. Now the captain wasn't a large man, by any means, nor very strong,
either. As to the mates,--one of them was sick in his berth, and the
other was in another part of the ship; so I just took the captain up
in my arms, and carried him down to the cabin, kickin' and cursin', as
might be expected, and laid him down there. The officers did not see
what was goin' on, or there'd have been trouble. As for the crew, they
enjoyed it, and wouldn't a man of 'em tell; and as the captain didn't
remember anything about it the next day, I didn't get punished."
"Did you ever get punished?" asked Charlie.
"Never since I grew up, and had these to fight my way with," said Bill
Sturdy, showing his fists, which looked as if a blow from either of
them would have felled an ox. "No, my lad, these are what I call my
sledge-hammers, and I'd as lives have them to rely upon as a pair of
pistols."
At this point in the conversation Bill was called off to some other
part of the vessel, and the mate coming up discovered, somewhat to his
disappointment, that our hero had discharged his task in a manner which
did not admit of censure.
XVII.
THE RIVAL CHAMPIONS.
It is customary to divide a ship's crew into two watches, whose duty it
is to alternate in keeping a lookout at night. The first night-watch
commences at eight o'clock, and continues till midnight. This watch is
then relieved by the second, who have had an opportunity of sleeping
in the mean time, and who remain on duty till four A. M. They then
give place to the first, who are again on duty till eight in the
morning. Thus it will be seen that a part of the crew have eight hours'
sleep, while the remainder have but four. This inequality, however, is
remedied the next evening, when the hours are changed.
Charlie was fortunate in one respect. He was placed on the same watch
with Bill Sturdy, who had established himself, in some sort, as the
boy's protector, and did not scruple to avow it. When some of the crew
began to tease and play rough practical jokes upon Charlie,--a mode of
treatment to which boys are frequently subjected on board ship,--Bill
Sturdy interfered, and in a sonorous voice exclaimed,--
"Look here, shipmates, don't lay a finger on this boy!"
"And why not?" inquired a burly sailor, with naturally repulsive
features.
"Because I say so," retorted Bill Sturdy.
"Who is he, I should like to know, that we are to keep our distance?"
"I'll tell you who he is, shipmates," was the answer. "He's a boy that
the mate has entrapped on board without his own consent."
"Isn't he the mate's nephew?"
"No more than I am, though the mate chooses to call him so. He's got a
mother living in Boston, and he's her only boy. She doesn't know what
has become of him. Now, shipmates, he seems to be a fine lad, and I'm
going to stand by him for his sake and his mother's."
Sailors are generous when you reach their hearts, and there was a
murmur of approbation when Bill concluded.
But there is no rule without an exception, and that exception was the
scowling sailor who has already been mentioned. Few knew much about
him. This was his second voyage on board the Bouncing Betsey. Next to
Bill Sturdy he was the stoutest and most athletic sailor on board the
ship. During the previous voyage he had been the bully of the crew,
taking advantage of his personal strength. Now they were relieved from
his tyranny. In Bill Sturdy he had more than found his match. No one,
comparing the two men, could doubt, that in a contest, the odds would
be decidedly in favor of Bill. Antonio, for this was his name, for he
was a Spaniard by birth, could not help seeing the changed state of
affairs. Now no one likes to be eclipsed, and to see the authority
passing from his hands into those of another. Certainly Antonio did not
behold this transfer with indifference. He could not brook holding the
second place, where the first had been his. But how could he help it?
Very evidently the opinions of the crew favored Bill Sturdy; not only
because they believed him to excel Antonio in physical qualities, which
hold a high value in the eyes of a sailor, but because he had, as yet,
shown no disposition to abuse his power. Antonio was resolved not to
yield without a struggle, and therefore determined to take the first
occasion to pick a quarrel with his rival, as this would give him an
opportunity to measure his strength with him. Antonio did not see, what
was evident to all else, that his rival was undeniably his superior
in prowess. People are generally slow to admit their own inferiority.
That is only natural. He hoped, therefore, that he should be able to
re-establish his supremacy by coming off a conqueror in the contest
which he had determined to do all in his power to bring about.
Antonio's attention had not been especially called to our hero, until
he heard Bill Sturdy avow his determination to take him under his
protection. Then, in a spirit of perverseness, and because he thought
it would open the way for the trial of strength which he courted, he
resolved to oppose him, and openly espouse the other side.
Accordingly, when the murmurs of applause, which had been elicited by
his rival's frank and generous appeal to the sympathies of the crew,
had subsided, Antonio looked round on the rough faces which surrounded
him, and growled,--
"Well, shipmates, are you going to submit to what this fellow says? He
dares you to touch this snivelling milk-sop of a boy."
Some of the faces grew dark and threatening at this representation.
Nothing stirs up a sailor's heart to opposition so readily as anything
which resembles a threat.
Bill Sturdy hastened to reply.
"He is wrong. I don't threaten any of you. I only ask if it is right to
play tricks, and abuse a boy who has already been treated so scurvily
by the mate. I don't believe there's any one of you that wants to curry
favor with Mr. Randall and the captain. Now there is nothing they will
like better than to see you kicking round this lad."
Neither the captain nor the mate stood very high in the good graces of
the crew, and the effect produced by this statement showed that it was
adroitly conceived.
Bill Sturdy took advantage of this to add, "Now, lads, when I say I am
going to stand by this boy, and see that he isn't abused, I know you'll
stand by me."
This frank and bold speech produced a decided reaction in favor of
Charlie.
There was another murmur of approbation, which was interrupted by a
stamp upon the deck by Antonio, who, with a ferocious contortion of
countenance, shouted, "If you're all going to follow this man's lead,
and do like dogs whatever he bids you, you'll find there's one here
that dares to be independent."
Saying this, he advanced suddenly to Charlie, who was at work near by,
and, seizing him by the shoulder, was about to proceed to some act of
violence.
As soon as Bill Sturdy perceived his design, he sprang forward and gave
him a powerful blow which would have felled him to the deck, had not
Bill slipped a little, as he delivered it.
Instantly the Spaniard's sallow face was suffused, and, with a torrent
of oaths and a howl of fury, he precipitated himself upon Sturdy.
But it was easier to catch a weasel asleep, than to take the stout
sailor unprepared.
With his feet firmly planted upon the deck, and his fists in a proper
position, he received the bully, parrying his blows with wonderful
dexterity, and succeeding in planting others no less effective.
A ring of sailors gathered around, eager to watch the progress and
termination of the affray. There were not a few among them, who enjoyed
the punishment which they foresaw the Spaniard would receive from his
antagonist. He had so tyrannized over them in the past, that they felt
little sympathy for him now.
Baffled, blinded, and howling with mingled rage and vexation, the
Spaniard continued the unequal fight. As for Bill Sturdy, he was cool
and collected, apparently neither angry nor excited, but wary and on
the alert.
At length Antonio, perceiving a marlinespike at a little distance,
sprang towards it. It was a critical moment for Bill Sturdy, for a
marlinespike, in the hands of a furious and determined man, is a
formidable weapon.
His movement did not escape the notice of Sturdy.
He had acted principally on the defensive thus far, but he now saw that
something decisive must be done.
Springing forward, he closed with his assailant, lifted him from the
deck, and, carrying him to the companion-way, hurled him down stairs.
Then, turning to the crew, he exclaimed, "Shipmates, I call you to
witness that this quarrel was forced upon me. Have I done right or
wrong?"
"Right!" exclaimed all, in concert.
At this moment the mate, attracted by the noise, came on deck.
XVIII.
ANTONIO'S RESOLVE.
"What has been going on?" asked Randall, perceiving, from the position
of the sailors and their looks, that something had happened. What it
was, he surmised, having heard something of the noise of the conflict.
No one of the sailors spoke, but all looked at each other in hesitating
silence.
"What was it? Are you all deaf?" demanded the mate, impatiently.
"A little fight, that is all, Mr. Randall," answered Bill Sturdy,
coolly hitching up his pants.
"And you were one of the parties?"
"I believe I was."
"And who was the other?"
"Antonio."
"And where is he now?"
"He has gone below," said Bill, in a significant tone.
"What was the fight about?" inquired Randall, who, in ordinary cases,
would not have cared to pursue the subject farther, but had an
undefined idea that it was in some way connected with our hero, for
whom he felt no peculiar affection.
"The fact is," said Bill Sturdy, "Antonio undertook to abuse that lad
there," pointing to Charlie; "and I ain't one to stand by and see a boy
abused. Besides," he added, with a latent humor which all understood,
though he did not allow it to alter the gravity of his countenance, "I
knew he was your nephew, and that made me the more anxious to defend
him."
Randall was placed in an awkward predicament. He could not deny that
Charlie was his nephew after his express declaration to that effect,
while at the same time the relationship which he claimed was far from
exciting, in his own mind, any attachment for the boy. Still it closed
his mouth for the time. He only muttered, in an undertone, that the boy
must fight his own battles, and disappeared from the deck.
"Fight his own battles!" repeated Sturdy, indignantly. "A pretty sort
of an uncle he is, to match a boy of fourteen against a grown man, and
a strong one at that. However," added Sturdy, complacently, "the lad's
got a friend that is a match for Antonio at any time."
"That he has," answered a comrade; "but I say, Bill; I couldn't help
laughing to see how you made that old shark shut up his mouth by
telling him it was his nephew you were fighting for. It made him mad,
but he didn't know what to say against it."
"His nephew! No, Jack, it's well the lad isn't any kith or kin of his.
A drop of his blood would be enough to spile a decent lad."
"Ay, that it would."
Presently Antonio came on deck with a sullen air, half of defiance,
half of humiliation, at his recent defeat. He smarted under the
conviction, that henceforth his authority among the crew would be
small. Hitherto he had been the champion and bully of the quarter-deck,
and although the crew had no liking for him, but rather a decided
feeling of an opposite nature, yet strength and prowess always command
a certain rude respect among sailors, and that respect he enjoyed. But
now all was changed. He had been beaten, and that in a fair fight,
where all could see that no underhand means had been employed. Strength
had been matched against strength, and he had come off second best.
That had been a Waterloo day to him, and he knew that he returned to
the deck no longer the same man so far as consideration went.
Bill Sturdy was a generous antagonist. He had no idea of indulging in
exultation over his vanquished foe, but treated him as if nothing had
happened.
But Antonio's resentment was deep and implacable. He thirsted for
revenge, and determined to lull to sleep the suspicions of his late
opponent, until some opportunity should present itself for an effectual
and safe revenge.
Accordingly he suddenly recovered from his sullenness, and made some
half advances towards Sturdy, which the latter met, but not without
reserve.
"I can't kind o' feel as if the feller was to be trusted," said Bill to
Charlie, one evening, as they were alone together. "There's something
in his eye that I don't like; a sort of deceitful gleam, as if there
was something covered up that he didn't like to show. For my part, I
like to be fair and above board, and show just what I am."
"I'm sorry you have made an enemy of this man on my account," said
Charlie.
"Avast, my lad, do you think I was going to stand still and let him
abuse you? Thank heaven, old Bill Sturdy isn't such a lubber as that."