TOM GOES TO SEA.
Tom, having managed to get safely through his arithmetic lesson,
put his book away in his desk, and again sauntered out on the lawn,
where he threw himself under one of the trees, and thought over his
hard lot in life. Study hours being over for the day, he was now at
liberty to amuse himself about home in any way he chose; but, as
was generally the case with him, he was at a loss to know how to
pass the time until dark. He never took a book of any description
in his hands if he could avoid it. Reading, he thought, was a very
dull, uninteresting way of passing the time. He never looked at a
newspaper, and if some one had asked him the name of the President
of the United States, it would have been a question that he could
not answer. As for play, he never saw any fun in that, but he was as
ready to engage in any kind of mischief as any boy in the village.
Newport, like every other place, had its two “sets” of boys, who
went by the names of “Spooneys” and “Night-hawks.” The former were,
in fact, the good boys of the village. They played foot-ball on
the common until dark, and then went home and stayed there. With
these Tom rarely had intercourse. On two or three occasions he had
mustered up energy enough to engage in a game of ball with them, and
each time he came home crying, and complaining that “the boys played
too rough,” and that “some fellow had shoved him down in the dirt.”
The fact was, Tom did not like these boys, because he could not be
their leader. They could all beat him running; the smallest boy on
the common could kick a foot-ball further than he could; and, in
choosing the sides for the game, Tom was always the last one taken.
The reason for this was that Tom, besides being a very poor player,
never entered into the sport as though he had any life about him. He
was very much afraid of soiling his clothes, or getting dust on his
boots; and this was so different from the wild, rollicking ways of
his playmates, that they soon learned to despise him; and, if Tom was
now and then pushed into the mud during the excitement of the game,
no one pitied him or stopped to help him out.
But with the Night-hawks--those that took possession of the common
at dark--Tom was a great favorite. They knew how to manage him. He
was easily duped, and, if the boys wished to engage in any mischief,
Tom was generally the one selected to do the work, for he made an
excellent “cat’s-paw.” A few words of flattery would completely blind
him, and, not unfrequently, call forth a display of recklessness
that made every body wonder. If the Night-hawks wished to remove the
doctor’s sign, and place it in front of a millinery store, or if
they wished to fasten a string across the sidewalk, to knock off the
hats of those that passed by, one of them would say to Tom: “Now,
Newcombe, you do it. You are the strongest and bravest fellow in the
party. You are not afraid of any thing.” These words never failed
to have the desired effect; for Tom would instantly volunteer his
services in any scheme the Night-hawks had to propose. Any mischief
that was done, anywhere within two miles of the village, was laid
to these boys; but had the matter been investigated, it would have
been discovered that Tom was the guilty one, for he did all the work,
while his companions stood at a safe distance and looked on.
Of course Mr. Newcombe knew nothing of this. His orders to Tom were
to remain in the yard after dark; but the latter regarded this as
another deliberate abridgment of his privileges. The merchant often
said that there was something in the night air particularly injurious
to the morals of boys, but Tom did not believe it. He did not like to
remain in the house while other boys were out enjoying themselves.
However, he always promised obedience to his father’s commands,
while, perhaps, at that very moment he was studying up some plan
by which he might be able to evade them, and was revolving in his
mind some scheme for mischief which he intended to propose to the
Night-hawks that evening. Mr. Newcombe was a shrewd business man; he
could calculate the rise and fall of the produce market to a nicety,
but he was not shrewd enough to discover that Tom, in spite of the
readiness with which he promised obedience to all his requirements,
was deceiving him every night of his life. Perhaps he thought that
Tom would not dare to disobey him; or he may have imagined that
he was a boy of too high principle; but, whatever may have been
his thoughts, he never troubled himself about his son after giving
him orders to remain in the yard, and Tom, having always escaped
detection, grew bolder by degrees, until, at last, he became the
acknowledged leader of the Night-hawks. He would rack his brain for
days and weeks to perfect some plan for mischief, and follow it up
with a patience and perseverance which, if exhibited in the line of
study, would have placed him at the head of his class in a month. He
was willing to work harder to obtain the approbation of a dozen young
rogues like the Night-hawks, than to gain that knowledge that would
enable him to be of some use in the world.
On the evening in question, Tom was sadly troubled with the “blues.”
He was almost discouraged, for several things had “happened to bother
him” during the day, and among them was the very disheartening piece
of news which the fisher-boy had communicated to him. If it was
true--and sometimes Tom almost believed that it was, for that would
be “just his luck”--he knew that he must do one of two things--either
abandon the idea of becoming a sailor, or pay more attention to his
books. If there had been any alternative, Tom would certainly have
discovered it, for he was very expert in finding a way out of a
difficulty. But now, either his good fortune, in this respect, had
deserted him, or else he was in a predicament from which there was no
escape, for he lay thinking under the trees for nearly an hour, and
finally answered the summons to supper without having been able to
discover a way out of his quandary.
Tom ate his supper in silence, and so did Mr. Newcombe, who was
pondering upon the same subject that was at that moment occupying his
son’s mind.
The result of the recitation that afternoon had convinced the
merchant that something ought to be done. Tom was making no progress
whatever in his studies. He had been under the charge of his private
teacher for nearly six weeks, and he had not yet completed the
first rule of his arithmetic. The reason for this was, that Tom had
been so long in the habit of dreaming, that any thing like study or
work, had become distasteful to him. The question was, how to arouse
him--how to convince him that if he ever expected to be any body in
the world, he must work for it. This could not be done by keeping him
at his books, for that plan had been repeatedly tried, and had as
often failed. He did not want to send him to the military school, or
allow him to go to sea; for he knew that Tom would not be contented
in either place. But something must be done; and, after thinking the
matter over calmly, the merchant finally decided upon his course.
He said nothing, however, during the meal, to Tom, who, when he had
finished his supper, hunted up his cap, went out of the house, and
walked down the lawn toward the beach, where his sail-boat, which he
called the Mystery, lay at her anchorage. He had started with the
intention of taking a sail; but, on second thought, he knew that
he could not enjoy it, for his troubles weighed too heavily on his
mind. He therefore abandoned the idea, and seating himself on the
grass, pondered upon what the fisher-boy had told him, and, for the
hundredth time, wondered what he should do next.
It had now begun to grow dark, and the shouts that came from the
common bore evidence to the fact that the Night-hawks were ready
to begin operations. Occasionally he heard a long, loud whistle,
which, under almost any other circumstances, would have been promptly
answered by Tom, for it told him, as plainly as words, that he was
wanted. But he did not feel at all inclined to engage in any mischief
that night, so the boys were obliged to get along the best they could
without him. It was fortunate for Tom that he resolved to stay at
home, for scarcely had he come to this determination, when he heard
his father calling him. Tom obeyed the summons, and when he entered
the room where Mr. Newcombe sat, the latter inquired:
“Well, Tom, have you completed your task?”
“O, no, I haven’t,” was the answer. “I can’t learn the capitals of so
many States.”
“Have you tried?” asked the father.
“O, now, don’t I know what I can learn without trying?” asked Tom,
throwing his cap into one corner of the room, and seating himself
near his father. “If a fellow knows he can’t do a thing, what is the
use of his trying? It’s only time thrown away.”
Mr. Newcombe, knowing that it would be of no use to argue the point
just then, changed the subject by inquiring:
“Have you learned any thing at all during the last month?”
“O, I don’t know,” answered Tom. “I can’t study all alone. There’s
no fun in it. Say, father, can’t I go to sea without learning the
capitals of all the States?”
“What could you do on board a vessel, Tom? You would be a foremast
hand all your life.”
“O, no, I wouldn’t! I would soon be captain. Say, father, may I go? I
want to go.”
“You would have to go on a great many voyages before you could be
master of a vessel. I went to sea thirteen years before any one
called me captain.”
“Well, now, may I go? Say, father, may I go?”
“The discipline is very strict,” continued the merchant. “A sailor is
not allowed to stop and grumble at any orders he receives. Besides,
you will have to take a very low position; you will be nothing but a
boy.”
“I don’t care!” said Tom, impatiently. “May I go? That’s what I want
to know!”
“There are other things you must bear in mind also,” said Mr.
Newcombe; but Tom, fearing that his father was about to begin a long,
uninteresting lecture, interrupted him with:
“Now, why don’t you tell me whether or not I can go? Say, father may
I go?”
The merchant, however, did not immediately answer his question; and
Tom, giving it up in disgust, threw himself back in his chair with
the air of one who expected to listen to something very unpleasant.
“You must remember,” said his father, “that there is nothing romantic
about a sailor’s life. It is all drudgery and toil from one year’s
end to another; and if a man wins promotion, he does it by his own
abilities. How would you like to be in a vessel that was cast away?”
Tom thought of the wreck he had seen towed into the harbor, and, for
a moment, he hesitated, but it was only for a moment; for when he
remembered how grand that ship looked as she started on her voyage,
and thought how proud he would feel if he could only be the captain
of a vessel like that, he decided that he would willingly risk
the shipwreck, if that would enable him to gain the object of his
ambition.
“And how would you like to go aloft and take in sail during a storm?”
asked Mr. Newcombe.
“I wouldn’t care!” was the answer. “I wouldn’t do it long. I’d soon
be captain.”
If Tom once got an idea into his head, no matter how ridiculous it
was, he clung to it, and stubbornly refused to be convinced that
it was impracticable. This notion of his, that he could soon learn
enough about seamanship and navigation to be intrusted with the
management of a vessel, was one of his pet ideas; and if all the
sailors in the world had endeavored to show him that the thing was
impossible, he would still have held firmly to his opinion. Mr.
Newcombe had often tried to convince his son of his error, and he had
discovered that there was but one way to do it, and that was to let
Tom learn in the hard school of experience. A few months at sea would
drive all such improbable ideas out of his head.
“Very well,” said the merchant, picking up his paper. “That’s all,
Tom!”
“O, no, it isn’t, father! Why don’t you tell me whether or not I may
go. Say! _Say!_”
But Mr. Newcombe, who appeared to be deeply interested in his paper,
took no further notice of him; and Tom, vexed and disappointed,
picked up his cap, went out of the house, and walked up and down the
lawn. The shouts that now and then came to his ears, told him that
the Night-hawks still held possession of the common, and Tom had half
a mind to go down and join them. But he knew, by the way his father
spoke, that he had some idea of allowing him to go to sea, and he did
not wish to destroy, by an act of disobedience, all the bright hopes
he had so long cherished, and which he imagined could be realized if
he was permitted to ship as cabin-boy on some vessel.
“I always wanted to go to sea,” said Tom to himself, as he walked
impatiently up and down the lawn; “and I’d like to know why I can’t
go as well as any body? I wonder why father didn’t tell me what he
is going to do about it? What good does it do to plague a fellow
this way? Now, if I can go out in the Savannah, I’ll certainly learn
enough to be second mate by the time we get home; then, after that,
I’ll be first mate, and then captain. Then, if a war should break
out, I would go into the navy, and I might be promoted to captain of
a man-o’-war. Wouldn’t that be glorious!”
Tom became amazed when he saw what a bright prospect was suddenly
opened up before him, and he resolved that he would not allow his
father a moment’s rest until he had obtained his permission to go to
sea on the Savannah.
Before he went to sleep that night, Tom had made up what he regarded
as an unanswerable argument, which he intended to present for his
father’s consideration in the morning. But he was saved that trouble;
for, at the breakfast table, Mr. Newcombe informed him that he had
decided to allow him to go to sea on the Savannah; at the same time
giving him advice which, had he seen fit to follow it, would have
made him a better and wiser boy, and would have saved him a great
deal of trouble. Tom was in ecstasies. He made the most extravagant
promises in regard to good behavior and prompt obedience of orders,
and repeatedly assured his father that he was “cut out” for a sailor,
and that it would not be long before he would be the master of a fine
vessel.
“Don’t build your hopes too high on that, Tom,” said Mr. Newcombe.
“Do your duty faithfully as boy, and don’t waste your time in
dreaming about being a captain; for that can only come after years of
hard work.”
But Tom did not believe that. He had read about boys but little older
than himself being masters of vessels, and if he wasn’t as smart as
they were, he would like to know the reason why.
Tom ate but very little breakfast that morning, for the joy he
experienced in receiving his father’s permission to go to sea had
taken away all his appetite. He hastily swallowed a few mouthfuls,
and then, catching up his cap, started toward the wharf to
communicate the good news to the captain of the Savannah. Tom was
well acquainted with all the officers and some of the crew of the
schooner, and he looked upon them as the finest men in the world.
The captain, especially, was his beau ideal of a sailor. He always
wore wide pants, a tremendous neck-tie, and, when he walked, he
rolled from side to side, like a vessel in a gale of wind--a style of
locomotion that Tom had more than once vainly endeavored to imitate.
With the older members of the crew he had always been a great
favorite. Whenever they returned from a voyage, they always brought
something for Tom; and, besides, they invariably spoke of him as “Our
young skipper,” a title which pleased the boy exceedingly.
Tom had long ago decided that his first voyage to sea should be made
in the Savannah, and, for a time, it had been the height of his
ambition to obtain the command of a vessel exactly like her. But now
he had set his mark higher; a topsail schooner was not good enough
for him--he wanted a full-rigged ship. However, the Savannah would
answer his purpose just then, for he considered that it would be much
pleasanter to go to sea with friends who would always treat him with
the respect due the son of the owner of the vessel, than to make his
first voyage in company with total strangers. He had often talked to
the captain about going out with him, and that gentleman, with all a
sailor’s fondness for his chosen calling, had spoken so encouragingly
to him, and had appeared to take so much interest in his affairs,
that Tom concluded he would be happy to know that he was to have a
new cabin-boy. Toward the wharf, then, he went at the top of his
speed, and reaching the Savannah, he clambered over the rail, and ran
down into the cabin, where the captain was eating his breakfast.
“It’s all right, now!” shouted Tom, as the skipper shook hands with
him. “It’s all right! I am going out with you!”
“I am glad to hear that,” said the captain, “for I am always happy to
have good company. You are going out just for the fun of the thing, I
suppose?”
“Yes, I expect to see plenty of fun, but I’m going to ship as boy.
I want you to teach me all you can, for I intend to be master of
a ship one of these days. Now, captain,” he added, glancing at the
doors of the different state-rooms in the cabin, “which is my room?”
“Why, if you ship as boy,” said the captain, “you’ll have to sleep
with the sailors in the forecastle.”
“Will I?” exclaimed Tom in astonishment. “Not if I know it. Do you
suppose that I am going to bunk with the hands? No, sir! I’m going to
have one of these rooms, and mess with you.”
“I understood you to say that you wanted to learn all about the
vessel!” said the captain.
“So I do!” replied Tom. “I want to be the best navigator and seaman
that ever sailed salt water!”
“That’s an object well worth working for,” said the skipper. “But our
best sailors never obtained their responsible positions by creeping
in at the cabin windows. They came in at the hawse-hole for’ard, and
worked their way aft.”
“That’s all well enough for those who are obliged to do it,” replied
Tom. “I know I can learn just as much about a vessel by living in the
cabin as I can by staying in the forecastle.”
As Tom said this he made a hurried examination of the two unoccupied
rooms in the cabin, and, selecting the one he thought would suit him
best, he continued:
“Now, captain, this is my room. Lock it up, and keep every body out
of it! As soon as I can get my bedding ready, I will have it brought
down here.”
The captain, no doubt, thought that Tom was assuming considerable
authority for one who was to rate as “boy” on the shipping articles,
but he made no remark, knowing that in due time he would hear
the full particulars of the matter from Mr. Newcombe. Tom spent
some time in looking about his room, and deciding what articles
of furniture he ought to bring down in order to set it off to the
best advantage, and finally he left the vessel and walked toward
his father’s office. A few moments later Mr. Newcombe went on board
the schooner, and, after a long conversation with the captain, he
returned to his office, where he found his son waiting for him.
“Now, Tom,” said the merchant, as he seated himself in a chair beside
the boy, “I suppose you want to know something of the life you will
lead for the next six months!”
“O, I know all about it now,” said Tom. “I’ll have a jolly time.”
Mr. Newcombe, however, thought differently, and he began to tell his
son exactly what he might expect if he shipped on board the schooner.
In the first place, he would be treated, in all respects as one of
the crew. He would be allowed no liberties that were not granted to
others; and he would begin his career as a sailor, as his father had
done before him--at the “lowest round of the ladder.” All the duties
expected of a boy on board ship would be required of him, and, if he
disobeyed orders, he would be liable to punishment. He would receive
boy’s pay--forty-eight dollars for the voyage--and when he returned
home, his father would give him the money due him, and he might use
it as he thought proper. If he wanted to be a speculator on a small
scale, (as Tom had often thought he would be if he only had some
money,) that would be capital enough for him to commence with.
“O, no, father,” said Tom, confidently, “I have given up all idea of
being a trader. I’ll go to sea again at once. You seem to think that
I will soon grow tired of a sailor’s life.”
Those were exactly the thoughts that were at that moment passing
through the merchant’s mind; but, seeing that his son still
stubbornly held to his own opinions, and knowing that he could not be
talked out of them, he brought the interview to a close by turning
to his desk and picking up some letters that had just been brought
in. Tom was left to himself, and being too uneasy to sit still, even
for a moment, he loitered about the office for a short time, and then
started for home.
“Father doesn’t know what he is talking about,” he soliloquized.
“I never saw a man with such funny ideas. Does he suppose that the
captain of the Savannah is going to make me work? No, sir; he won’t
do it. He won’t dare do it; for my father owns that schooner, and I
guess I shall have a right to do as I please. I expect to go aloft
and take in sail, but I don’t call that work. The captain and I
understand each other, and I know that I shall get along finely.”
Tom thought the day on which the schooner was to sail never would
arrive, for never before had the time hung so heavily on his hands.
He was very cross and fretful, and spent the entire week in walking
about the wharf, with his hands in his pockets. His private teacher
had left the mansion as soon as it was decided that his pupil was
to go to sea; and when Tom saw him go out of the yard, he drew a
long breath of relief, as if a heavy load had been removed from his
shoulders. Had he dared to do so, he would have thrown his desk and
all his books out after him; but as it was, he contented himself with
believing that he would never again be required to open an arithmetic
or geography.
How he pitied his unfortunate acquaintances who were obliged to
attend school, and how they all envied Tom, when they learned that
he was about to go on a voyage to Callao. Every one of them said
that Callao was in Peru; but Tom stoutly maintained that it was
in England, and that when he arrived there, he would persuade the
skipper to take him to see the Queen.
“Look at your geography,” said one of the boys, “and you will see
that you are mistaken.”
“O, no, I won’t do it,” drawled Tom. “I said I never would open that
book again if I could help it, and I’m going to stick to it.”
At last, to Tom’s immense relief, the long-expected day arrived.
From daylight until dark he sat on the wharf, watching the workmen
who were engaged in loading the vessel, and when he went home to
supper with his father, the latter informed him that the schooner
would be ready to sail by ten o’clock that evening. At nine o’clock,
Tom bade his mother good-by, and returned to the wharf, accompanied
by his father. He was dressed in a full sailor’s “rig,” with wide
pants, a blue flannel shirt, a tarpaulin, which he wore as far back
on his head as he could get it; a neck-tie, that looked altogether
too large for him, and, when his father was not looking at him, he
tried to imitate the captain’s walk. If clothes made the sailor, Tom
could certainly lay claim to that honor. Shortly after he reached the
vessel, his bedding and extra clothing arrived, and Tom gave orders
to have them carried into the cabin. Had he taken the trouble to
see how the command was obeyed, he would have found that his bundle
was unceremoniously thrown down into the forecastle. At last, when
every thing was ready for the start, a steamer came along-side to tow
the schooner out of the harbor. Mr. Newcombe took leave of the young
sailor, and sprang upon the wharf, after which, the lines were cast
off, and the Savannah began her voyage.