While this conversation was going on, Charlie in another part of the
vessel was commiserating Bill Sturdy on his injuries.
"And it was on my account, too," said the boy, regretfully.
"Better me than you, my lad," said the old sailor stoutly. "Don't
trouble yourself about that. It was my own free will, and if I had been
unwilling all the power of the captain couldn't have made me submit
to it. Besides there was one thing that repaid me for it all. Antonio
got something he'll remember to the latest day of his life, I reckon.
However that ain't what I want to say now. It's just this. I haven't
any particular inducements to stay aboard this vessel, and I've about
made up my mind to give them the slip at the first port we come to, if
you'll go with me."
"Where do we touch first?"
"At Rio, I surmise."
"I'm ready to go with you, Bill, whenever you say the word," said
Charlie, promptly.
"That's right, my lad."
And so the agreement was made.
XXIX.
DANGER THREATENS BILL STURDY.
It is my intention to pass rapidly over the time which intervened
between the events which have been described, and the arrival of the
Bouncing Betsey at Rio Janeiro. Nothing happened of sufficient interest
to call for record.
As for our hero and Bill Sturdy, their position was, unquestionably,
more agreeable and less disturbed by incidents than before. This was
not owing to any change in the feelings of the captain and mate, but
in consequence of the iniquitous compact into which they had entered.
They felt secure of ultimate vengeance; they could, therefore, afford
to wait. Indeed, they felt that they should be more likely to secure
the end they had in view if, for the present, they should so act as to
lull asleep any suspicions which might be entertained of their agency
in the affair after it was over.
But Bill Sturdy was not deceived. He determined to keep his
"weather-eye open," as he expressed it, and be on the lookout for
squalls.
So the time passed.
It was a bright, tropical day. The thick garments which all had worn on
leaving port were laid aside, and every one was dressed in light and
thin attire.
"We shall probably reach Rio to-morrow, Mr. Randall," observed the
captain.
"Yes; if the present wind holds, there can be no doubt of it."
"And the little plan which we have been contemplating need no longer be
delayed."
Randall smiled acquiescence.
The wind held favorable, and the next evening saw them in port.
The captain and mate went on shore, leaving the vessel in charge of the
second mate.
We have nothing to do with the motions of the captain, but will follow
Randall, who, never backward in ill-doing, at once set about the
execution of his scheme.
Having been in the city before, he was well acquainted with
localities, and therefore was able to direct his steps at once to that
quarter where he felt he was most likely to meet the man he was in
quest of.
He entered a low drinking-saloon, and ordered a glass of liquor, partly
to gratify his taste, partly that while drinking he might have leisure
to look about him.
It was a low, square room, dark and unsightly, frequented evidently
by the lowest ranks only. At this time there was but one man present
besides Randall.
This man was tall, low-browed, with shaggy black eyebrows, and a
face on which villainy was stamped in Nature's plainest and most
ineffaceable characters.
"There's a man," thought the mate, "that will serve my turn, and, to
judge from his looks, will be troubled by no unnecessary scruples on
the subject."
Meanwhile, the other, lifting his eyes from the glass, had observed
his close scrutiny, and chose to take offence at it. He rose from his
seat, and, advancing towards Randall, observed, in a menacing tone, "It
appears to me, señor, that you are impertinent."
Randall understood the language in which this was spoken, and coolly
inquired, "How so?"
"You have been staring at me as if you had some particular object in
it."
"So I have," returned the mate, in the same tone as before.
"Explain yourself, señor, and if, as I mistrust, you mean to insult me,
I will make you better acquainted with my good knife," and he tapped
the knife significantly.
"It is an acquaintance which I do not court," said Randall, shrugging
his shoulders. "But it appears to me that it is not well talking
without something to moisten the throat. I shall be happy to have you
drink with me."
"I beg your pardon, señor, for my suspicions, which, I see, were wrong.
I see that you are a gentleman. Henceforth I will treat you as such."
"I thought you would learn to know me better," said Randall, filling
both glasses; "let me drink to our better acquaintance."
Both sat down very amicably. The glass had made them friends.
"I should like to ask your advice on a certain point," said Randall.
"I will give it with pleasure."
"I have an enemy--a deadly foe--whom I detest. What would you do if you
were in my place?"
"You say he is your deadly foe?"
"Yes."
"I would give him a passport to another world. That is my advice."
"And you would feel no compunctions?"
"No more than if I were crushing a spider."
"I will own, then," said Randall, "that I have thought of this, but it
is difficult for me to act in the matter."
"Then hire another to do it."
"Ah, if I could only find some brave man who would undertake the job."
"Well?"
"I would engage him to do it for me, if----"
"Well?"
"If we could agree upon the terms."
"You need seek no further for your man, then," said the stranger,
gulping down another glass.
"How is that?" asked Randall, pretending not to understand him fully.
"Because, you see before you one who is willing to undertake it."
"You?"
"And why not?"
"Certainly, there is no good reason."
"Now tell me about it."
"First, let us settle about the price to be paid."
"As you please."
After some little discussion this was finally fixed at sixty dollars.
For this paltry sum, added to the booty which he might find upon the
person of his victim, this miserable man was willing to commit one of
the worst of crimes.
"Now," continued the mate, "I must give you some directions which will
enable you to identify the person."
"Is he a sailor?"
"He is."
"On board what ship?"
"The Bouncing Betsey."
"Lying where?"
Randall indicated the wharf at which the vessel was moored.
"Now describe the man."
"He is rather below the common height, broad-shouldered,
extraordinarily strong; in fact such a Hercules that it will be well
for you to take him by surprise."
"This will make me equal with him," said the Brazilian, displaying his
knife.
"That and the darkness."
"When shall I be likely to meet him?"
"He will receive permission to come on shore to-morrow night," said
Randall. "You must be hovering about the vessel, and watch the sailors
as they come from the ship. When you see him, you will follow him."
"Trust me for that."
"And when all is over, and you furnish me evidence that you have done
the deed, the money shall be yours."
"I require a portion in advance. How do I know but you will play me
false?"
"My good friend, I should expect, in that case, to become your victim.
However, your request is reasonable. You shall have one third of the
sum stipulated in advance."
He placed twenty dollars in the hands of his companion, and, rising,
paid his score. He then betook himself to the ship, and, on the arrival
of Captain Brace, acquainted him with the result of his visit. The
latter expressed great satisfaction.
Meanwhile Bill Sturdy and Charlie were speaking of the plan they had in
view,--that of escaping from the ship.
"Suppose," said Charlie, "we cannot obtain permission to go on shore
together."
"Then I will come to the wharf at midnight, and you can leave your bunk
unobserved and join me."
XXX.
THE PASS OF DEATH.
"Have I permission to go on shore, Captain Brace?" inquired Bill Sturdy
on the following morning.
"I shall require your services on board during the day," said the
captain, acting in accordance with the suggestion and arrangements of
the mate. "At nightfall you can go if you like."
Charlie, learning from Bill Sturdy, the result of his application, did
not prefer a request till evening. His request was unceremoniously
refused. The Captain had no desire that our young hero should be
present at the assault upon Bill, as his presence might prevent the
attack being made, and its success, in consequence of Sturdy's great
strength, depended on its unexpectedness.
"Never mind," said Bill, in a low voice, "wait till midnight. Meanwhile
I will be seeking out a proper place of concealment. When the Cathedral
clock strikes midnight, rise quietly and take a bundle of clothes, if
you can do it unobserved, and jump upon the wharf. I will be waiting
for you."
Cheered by this hope, Charlie was content to wait.
He went below, and opening his chest, put together in a bundle the
clothes which he had on when he went on board the vessel for the first
time. His little preparation having now been made, he sat down and
commenced a letter to his mother which it was his purpose to mail in
the city, to be completed when the result of his attempt to escape
should be known.
We must now follow the movements of the villain with whom Randall had
conferred. He had no idea of failing to carry out his part of the
contract. Aside from the pecuniary inducement, his savage temper and
utter want of principle, made him rather court such adventures, even
for their own sake. Just before nightfall he stationed himself at a
point on the wharf where he would have an opportunity of observing all
that went on board the vessel.
With his keen eyes he scrutinized the forms of the sailors with a view
of verifying Randall's description, and so picking out the one who was
destined to be his victim. Circumstances conspired to lead him to a
wrong conclusion upon this point.
Bill Sturdy was, at that time, below, making preparations to go on
shore. It has already been remarked, that previous to his enrolment
among the crew, Antonio had been, physically the most powerful among
them. Although inferior to Bill Sturdy, yet he possessed a formidable
amount of strength, and on board most vessels might have challenged
comparison with any. But if Antonio was one in a hundred, Sturdy was
one in a thousand. Seldom, very seldom, is there concentrated in the
human frame so much power as he possessed. He would not have been found
unequal to the feats of strength which have made famous the name of
Richard Cœur de Lion, the English king, who won, in so remarkable a
degree, the chivalrous respect and affection of the English people, and
whose feats still live in the pages of the greatest of modern romances.
Antonio was, in form, not altogether unlike Bill Sturdy. At all events,
the resemblance was so great that the mate's description of Sturdy
might easily be supposed to apply to him. Hence, when the Brazilian
cast a scrutinizing glance over the persons of the crew, he at once
selected Antonio as the one intended.
"That is the fellow," he muttered. "He looks powerful, but my good
knife will prevent his being dangerous to me, provided I steal upon
him from behind, and give him one sharp, decisive blow."
Bill Sturdy was not the only one permitted to go on shore that evening.
Several others had similar permission extended to them, leaving behind
only enough to keep the proper watch on board the vessel.
A company, including Antonio, left the vessel together some five
minutes before Bill Sturdy made his appearance. The Brazilian, fixing
his attention upon him, followed them at a little distance, cautiously
avoiding the appearance of doing so, lest he might attract observation.
He did not expect to carry out his design at present, partly because
it was not yet dark, and partly also because he wished to wait till
Antonio was alone. He was resolved to keep him in view, for hours, if
need be, until a favorable opportunity should present itself for the
commission of the crime he meditated.
The first place the men visited was a low drinking saloon, situated
on a street considered hardly reputable. It was not long before they
became noisy and drunk.
One by one they staggered out of the drinking-saloon. Among the last to
go was Antonio. He had probably drank more than any of his comrades,
but he had a strong head, and showed his potations less in his gait
than many of the rest. He walked out with a steady step, somewhat to
the disappointment of the Brazilian, who had been keeping vigilant
guard, and relied upon the effects of the liquor to make him an easier
conquest.
It was already dark, but the street was too public, and he would be too
liable to interruption and detection to make it prudent to attack at
present. He therefore cautiously followed Antonio, hoping that he would
presently turn into some narrow lane or alley.
In this hope he was not disappointed. At a little distance there
was a narrow alley leading from the street in which Antonio was now
walking to another of equal size. Antonio stood a little doubtful at
the entrance, but finally entered. If he had only known that there was
one close upon his heels, who was tracking him with the keenness of an
Indian upon the trail of his foeman, he might have hesitated before
entering what, to him, was destined to prove "the pass of death."
But he did not know this.
The alley was a long one, little frequented at that hour, and
unlighted. Cautiously behind the doomed sailor walked the hired
assassin. And now Antonio is nearly midway. Between them there is a
distance of fifty feet. Over this interval creeps the murderer with
noiseless feet. Then, snatching the ever-ready knife from his girdle,
he lifts his hand, and the descending knife is buried in the back of
Antonio, entering just below his neck. He sank to the ground with a
convulsive shudder, and a sharp cry of pain.
The Brazilian stood over him. Antonio looked up into his face,
supposing it might be Bill Sturdy, whose enmity he judged by his own.
And the thought came to him.
Half lifting himself from the ground with his last remaining strength,
he ejaculated, feebly, "Were you hired to do this?"
"I was," said the assassin, briefly.
Antonio could have but one thought as to the one who had instigated
the murder. He was satisfied it was Bill, and that thought made death
doubly bitter.
With a curse upon his lips, a bitter malediction upon his rival, he
died.
Quickly stripping his victim of whatever he had about him worth taking,
his murderer crept away.
XXXI.
CHARLIE'S ESCAPE FROM THE SHIP.
Randall had made an appointment to meet his agent at midnight at the
place where they originally met.
Some ten minutes before the hour he entered, and found the Brazilian
seated at a table with a bottle before him.
"I am here first," said the latter, nonchalantly, as he laid down a
glass which he had drained.
"So it seems," said Randall. "And now, what success?" he asked, eagerly.
"The best."
"You have----"
"I have earned my reward."
"Good!" exclaimed the mate, his eyes flashing with revengeful malice.
"And now," said the assassin, coolly, "I am ready to receive my pay."
"You shall have it as soon as you prove to me that you have stated the
truth."
"Do you dare to doubt my word?" said the Brazilian, fiercely.
"Not at all."
"Why, then, do you demand this proof? Have I not told you?"
"Because," said Randall, "you must know, that in this matter I am the
agent of another, and that the money with which I pay you is not mine,
but only what he has intrusted to me."
"Well?"
"You will easily understand that, though I may be perfectly satisfied
with your assurance, he is a different person. He has never met with
you, and may very reasonably require some proof that the deed has been
done."
"Would you know the hair of this man?" asked the Brazilian.
"I should."
He drew from his bosom a lock of hair which he had severed from the
head of his victim.
Randall looked at it eagerly, turned pale, and uttered an exclamation
of mingled surprise and dismay.
"You have made a great mistake," he said.
"A mistake?" echoed the other.
"Yes," said Randall; "you must have killed the wrong man!"
"What makes you think so?"
"Because the hair should be sandy. This is black."
"Beware," said the assassin, suspiciously, "how you attempt to trick me
out of my reward. The knife which has drunk the blood of one can, on
occasion, do the same thing for another."
"Your suspicions are unjust," said the mate. "In any event, you are
welcome to what you have already received, and we must enter upon a new
contract for the other."
"Umph!" muttered his companion, but half appeased.
"And now let us go and see who has been the victim of this unlucky
mistake."
Together they proceed cautiously to the alley where the sailor yet lay,
cold and rigid, his face wearing the look of dark, sullen hatred and
ferocity which had been habitual to it in life.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Randall. "This is Antonio."
"Is it not the man you intended?"
"No; it is his deadly foe. But what a fearful look he wears in death.
Was there any struggle?"
"No; he had no chance."
"You did not kill him instantly?"
"He had time to ask a question."
"What was it?"
"He asked if I had been hired to murder him."
"And you answered----"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him by whom you were hired?"
"I had no opportunity. He had just strength to ask the question, and
then died."
"He supposed it to be another," said Randall. "But it can't be helped,
and we may as well leave this place, or we may incur suspicion. I don't
know that I care much for the mistake. He was an ugly fellow."
"About the other?"
"If you will be on the wharf to-morrow morning, I will take care that
the man is on deck. You could not fail to recognize him, but to avoid
all mistake, I will go forward and speak to him."
"And am I to receive no more than twenty dollars for what I have
already done?" asked the Brazilian, discontentedly.
"Did you take nothing from the corpse?"
The assassin had found considerable money, and the thought of this
tended to appease him.
"You are welcome to that, whatever it is, and for the new enterprise
you shall have as much as I promised in the first place. You see,
therefore, that you will be a gainer by the mistake that has taken
place, while I shall be out of pocket by it."
"You said you were but an agent."
"So I am, but this money will come from me."
Here the two villains parted company, one betaking himself to his
ship, the other returning to the drinking-saloon, where he spent the
remainder of the night in drunken revelry.
In the meantime the man against whose life Randall had plotted
unsuccessfully was preparing another disappointment for the mate.
On leaving the ship, not dreaming how important to him had been the ten
minutes by which his comrades had preceded him, Bill Sturdy struck for
the central part of the city by the most direct route.
Turning a corner, he unexpectedly fell in with a sailor who had been
a messmate on a former voyage. Bill ascertained that his comrade was
about to sail in two days for Liverpool, and from thence to New York.
"Can your captain take another hand?" asked Sturdy.
"I have no doubt he would like one, for we are short-handed. We lost a
sailor overboard just before we got into Rio."
"Do you carry any passengers?"
"A few."
"I shall want to secure a berth for one."
"You don't mean to say, Bill, that you've been spliced?"
"Not quite so bad as that. The passenger is a boy."
"A son of yours?"
"I wish he was," said Bill, earnestly; "but I'll tell you more about
this matter another time. For the present, keep dark. And that reminds
me, can you tell me of any quiet, decent place where the lad and I can
come to anchor?"
"I know of a widow woman who will give you good rooms."
Bill took down the address.
Toward twelve o'clock he returned to the wharf at which the vessel was
lying. While he was standing in the shadow of a large building the
cathedral clock struck twelve.
A moment after, and a youthful form appeared upon deck, descended the
side swiftly, and stepped on the wharf.
"Here I am, my lad," said Sturdy, in a low voice, coming out from his
place of concealment.
"I was afraid you wouldn't be here," whispered Charlie.
"Trust me for that. And now we must be making sail, or the pirates will
be after us."
And this is the way Charlie took leave of the Bouncing Betsey.
XXXII.
FIRST LESSONS.
We will not attempt to depict the rage and vexation of Randall and the
captain when they ascertained that Bill Sturdy had made his escape from
the vessel and taken Charlie with him. For they entertained no doubt
from the previous intimacy of the two that they had deserted the ship
in company. They instituted as strict a search as they were able, and
even offered a reward to any of the crew who should be instrumental in
bringing back either, but particularly the boy. None of the sailors,
however, would have betrayed our hero, even if they had had the
opportunity. Captain Brace was finally obliged to put to sea without
those whom he was so desirous of getting back into his power. He was
compelled at the last to ship two new hands in place of Bill Sturdy and
Antonio.
As for Bill Sturdy, he embarked on the Liverpool-bound vessel. He was
desirous that Charlie should go as passenger, offering to pay his
fare, that he might be spared the hardships of a boy on board ship.
But to this arrangement our hero strongly objected. He said he had no
intention of being idle, and as to the hardships, he was willing to
encounter them. Bill, therefore, withdrew his objections, and Charlie
became one of the crew. He soon became a favorite, and as the captain
and mate were quite different in character and disposition from those
of the Bouncing Betsey, his voyage proved much more pleasant and
satisfactory.
We must now take leave of our young hero, well assured that he is in
good hands, and, transferring the scene to Boston, inquire into the
fate of our friends there.
It will be remembered that Mrs. Codman, after the abduction of her son,
was successful in obtaining the post of governess to a rather playful
and mischievous young lady, the only daughter of a wealthy merchant
named Bowman.
Mrs. Codman found her pupil as playful as a kitten, and about as
fond of study. To confess the truth, Miss Bert Bowman was deplorably
ignorant for a young lady of her age. Her governess, however, soon
ascertained that it was from no want of natural capacity, but rather
because she had been so much indulged, that nothing had been required
of her beyond what the young lady chose to perform, and that was
exceedingly little. In a private conversation with Mrs. Codman, Mr.
Bowman explained the deficiencies of Bert with their cause, and went on
to say, "Now, my dear madam, I wish to surrender Bert to your charge
entirely. I feel assured that I may rely upon your judgment to adopt
such a course as may be best adapted to reconcile her to study, of
which at present, she has a great dread. I would not counsel too great
strictness at first, though I do not apprehend that from you. Neither
perhaps ought we to try to advance very rapidly at first. Step by step,
will be the most judicious way. In regard to hours, text-books, and
studies generally, you will do as you think best."
"I thank you, Mr. Bowman," replied Mrs. Codman, "for your dependence
on my judgment, and hope to deserve it. I hope my young pupil, who, I
am convinced is not wanting in intelligence, will do justice to her
natural capacity."
The next day Mrs. Codman commenced her undertaking, for such it may
appropriately be called.
"Bertha," said she, pointing to the clock, "it is nine o'clock. Suppose
we commence our studies."
"Just let me have another race with Topsy," said Bert, who was flying
round the room in pursuit of the black kitten, who was evidently
regarded by her young mistress as a congenial companion.
"I am afraid I must say no, my dear child," said Mrs. Codman gently;
"there is nothing like punctuality. So if you will just ring the bell,
I will ask Jane to take away Topsy for the present."
"Can't Topsy come to school with me?" asked Bert, disappointed.
"I am afraid if she did my other pupil would not make very much
progress."
Bert unwillingly acquiesced in the dismission of her favorite companion.
"You won't keep me as long as they do in school, will you, Mrs.
Codman?" asked Bert. "If I had to study four or six hours, I should
certainly go into a fit."