PHIL JONES.
I found the forecastle of the Spitfire a dark and rather unwholesome
place. The ventilation was bad, and the smell of tar and oakum was so
strong that for a moment I had to turn away to catch my breath.
Luckily my bunk was close to the doorway, so I had the best light the
place afforded. Close to me was a chest, and upon this I sat down to
think.
It would be hard to express my feelings at this moment. Had I gone on
board the Spitfire of my own will I would not have considered the matter
as bad. True, I had no great fancy for a life on the ocean wave, such as
most boys are supposed to cherish. I knew that at best it was little
better than a dog's existence.
"Hello, there!"
I looked up. A boy several years younger than myself stood near me. He
was thin and pale, and his eyes had a frightened look.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I'm Polly Jones," he replied.
"Polly Jones," I repeated. "That's a girl's name."
"'Tain't my right name. They used to call me Phil at home, but the
sailors all call me Polly here, because they say I act like a girl."
"What do you do on board?" I asked with some curiosity.
"I'm the cabin boy and the cook's help. What are you?"
"I don't know what I am yet. I didn't come on board of my own free
will."
"You didn't?" Phil Jones's eyes opened to their widest. "You don't look
like a sailor."
"Come down here," said I. "I want to have a talk with you."
The cabin boy gave a sharp look about the deck and then hurried into the
forecastle.
"I don't want Captain Hannock to see me down here," he explained. "If he
did he'd thrash the life out of me."
"Is the captain such a hard man?"
"Is he? Just you wait until something goes wrong and you'll find out
quick enough. See here," the cabin boy bared his arm and exhibited
several bruises that made me shudder, "he gave me those day before
yesterday, just because I wasn't spry enough to suit him."
"He must be a brute!" I exclaimed. "He shall not treat me like that, I
can tell you."
"I'd like to see some one stand up against him," said Phil. "None of the
men dare to do it."
"What makes you stay on board?"
"I have to. Captain Hannock has charge of me until I'm twenty-one."
"He is your guardian?"
"Yes."
"He ought to treat you better. Did you ever try to run away?"
"Once; while we were at Baltimore. But Lowell caught me, and the captain
nearly killed me when I got back. I could have got away, only I had no
money."
"Doesn't the captain allow you anything for your services?" I asked, at
the same time wondering if I would be paid for what I was called upon to
do.
"Not a cent. To tell the truth he even takes away what the
passengers--if we have any--give me."
"He must be mighty mean," said I.
"If you've any money you had better hide it," went on the cabin boy.
"'Tain't safe here."
"Thank you, Phil, I'll take your advice. I've got four dollars and a
half, and I don't want to lose it."
As I spoke I felt in my pocket to make sure that the amount was still
safe.
To my chagrin the money was gone!
I must confess that I felt quite angry when I discovered that my
hard-earned savings had been taken from me. To be sure, four dollars and
a half was not a large sum, but it had been my entire capital and I had
calculated upon doing a great deal with it.
"What's the matter?" asked Phil Jones, as he stood by, watching me turn
my pockets inside out to make sure that there was no mistake.
"My money is gone!" I exclaimed. "I have been robbed."
"Where did you have it?"
"Right here, in my vest pocket."
"You're foolish to carry it loose. Any one could take it from you," said
the cabin boy, with a knowing shake of his head.
"I didn't take every one for a thief. Who do you suppose took the
money?"
"The captain or Lowell. He's only boatswain, but the two work hand in
hand."
I had already surmised this from the conversation I had overheard. The
two were well mated, and no doubt the sailor was the captain's ready
tool on all occasions.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Phil curiously.
"Get it back if I can," I replied with determination. "I'm not going to
be fleeced in this manner."
"You'd better let it go," said the cabin boy, with a grave shake of his
head. "You'll only get yourself into trouble, and it won't do a bit of
good."
Phil Jones's advice was good, and I would have saved myself considerable
trouble by following it.
But I was angry, and, as a consequence, did not stop to count the cost.
I searched my other pockets, and soon learned that everything I had had
about my person was gone, including the letter from England. No doubt it
was through this letter that Captain Hannock had found out my name.