TOM GOES INTO BUSINESS.
Never before had Tom’s home appeared so pleasant or inviting. His
short experience on ship-board had fully convinced him that there
were much worse places in the world, and that his grand idea of
being his “own master” was not exactly what he had imagined it to
be. In regard to the future, he had not determined upon any course
of action. He had often heard his father say that he “couldn’t have
an idler about his house,” and Tom knew that he must do one of two
things--either attend school or go to work--a most disagreeable
alternative. In spite of all he could do to prevent it, the warning
of the second mate, that he would be a “foremast hand the longest
day he lived,” would occasionally ring in his ears; and once Tom
almost came to the sensible conclusion that, in order to prevent such
a calamity, he ought to go to school and try hard to make up his
deficiencies. But this resolution, like all the good ones Tom ever
made, was short lived. There were too many difficulties in his way.
He would have arithmetic and geography lessons to learn, and would be
obliged to remain a close prisoner six long hours during each day. So
this resolution was reconsidered, and Tom settled down, as he had
done a hundred times before, in the hope that something would soon
“turn up,” and that he would then be able to see his way clearly.
That evening, after supper, in obedience to his father’s request, Tom
proceeded to give an account of all that had transpired on board the
Savannah during the voyage. He had a very retentive memory, if he
chose to exert it, and not even the smallest incident was omitted. He
told how he had been compelled to act the part of a servant in sawing
wood, blacking the captain’s boots, and making the beds; how he had
been thrust into the forecastle, when he had expected to sleep in the
cabin and mess with the officers; how all the sailors had tormented
him; and how the second mate had frequently threatened to beat him
with a rope’s end; and when he concluded, he settled back in his
chair, confident that he had made out a very black case against the
officers and crew of the Savannah, and fully expecting to hear his
father announce his intention of discharging them, one and all. Mr.
Newcombe sat for several minutes, looking down at the carpet, as if
revolving the subject in his mind, and finally inquired:
“Did the mate ever use a rope’s end on you?”
“No, sir,” answered Tom; and at that moment he almost wished the
officer had punished him, in order to make the evidence against him
complete.
“Well,” said Mr. Newcombe, “that mate isn’t half the man I thought he
was.”
“He’s no gentleman, or he would not have treated me that way,” chimed
in Tom, who thought his father was debating upon the punishment the
mate ought to receive.
“He’s not a good officer, either,” said Mr. Newcombe, looking at his
son.
“No, sir; he’s not. He’s not fit to be second mate.”
“If he was a good officer,” continued the merchant, “he would have
taken a rope’s end to you every hour in the day.”
Tom was thunderstruck! He could scarcely believe that he had heard
aright. All through his trials, which he regarded as much greater
than had ever before been endured by a boy of his age, he had been,
to a certain extent, sustained and encouraged by the thought that his
father would certainly sympathize with him; but could it be possible
that he was upholding the mate? It certainly looked like it.
“O, now, father,” whined Tom, at length, “you don’t mean to say that
I ought to have been whipped?”
“I mean to say that you ought to have been made to do your duty,”
answered Mr. Newcombe. “I have heard how you behaved yourself, and my
only wonder is, that you escaped as easily as you did.”
“But, father,” said Tom, “when you made your first voyage, you didn’t
have to saw wood and black boots, did you?”
“Certainly I did,” replied Mr. Newcombe. “What else could a green boy
do on board a ship? But what are you going to do now? Are you willing
to go to school?”
“O, no,” drawled Tom, “I can’t.”
“Well, then, do you want to go into the office?”
“What will my duties be if I go there, and how much money can I
earn?” asked Tom.
“Why, of course you will have to begin at the lowest round of the
ladder, and work your way up,” answered the merchant. “You must be on
hand at six o’clock in the morning, to sweep out the office, and make
the fires, if the weather is cold; and, during the day, you will have
to do errands about the village.”
If there was any thing Tom had a horror of, it was running on
errands. The idea of going about the streets with a bundle under
his arm was intolerable to him; and the thought of building fires
and sweeping out the office was no less distasteful. What would his
aristocratic young friends say when they found that he was an errand
boy?
“O, no,” answered Tom, at length, “I can’t do that. I can’t sweep, or
make fires, or run on errands. It wouldn’t look well, and I wouldn’t
do it for a hundred dollars a month. But I’ll do any thing else.”
“What else can you do?” asked Mr. Newcombe. “Now, Tom, if you could
have any position in the office you wanted, what would you ask for?”
Tom looked at his father, then out of the window, and rapidly called
to mind the occupations of the different clerks employed in his
father’s office. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to him, and Tom was
certain that he had at last discovered the very thing he wanted.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said he. “I’ll be a book-keeper.”
“Why, Tom!” exclaimed Mr. Newcombe, astonished at his son’s
ignorance, “how could you be a book-keeper? Here you are, fourteen
years old, and can’t tell how much six and eight are without counting
your fingers. You can’t fill a position of that kind until you pay
more attention to your arithmetic.”
This was another piece of news to Tom. He was a good deal
disappointed, for he had suddenly taken it into his head that he
would like to be a book-keeper, but again that useful, but (as far
as Tom was concerned) much despised branch of education, arithmetic,
stood in his way. He looked at his father a moment, then down at the
carpet, and finally said:
“I didn’t know that book-keepers had any thing to do with figures. I
can’t do that kind of work, either!”
“I didn’t suppose you could,” said the merchant. “But of one thing
you may rest assured; if you don’t go to school you must go to work
at something. I can’t have idlers about me. To-morrow morning I want
to hear your decision.”
As Mr. Newcombe ceased speaking, he picked up a newspaper and began
to read, thus intimating that the interview was at an end. Tom
lingered about the room for a few moments, but finding that his
father took no more notice of him, he sauntered out of the house and
threw himself under one of the trees in the yard, heartily disgusted
with himself and every one else in the world.
The conversation he had with his father will serve to illustrate
some of his ideas. He wanted to fill some position in life where
he could be at his ease; but he was unwilling to make the least
exertion to accomplish the desired end. He had often noticed the
book-keepers in his father’s office; he imagined they must be happy
fellows, and he had suddenly taken it into his head that he would
like the same position. But when he learned that the book-keepers
had something to do with figures, he had no desire to become better
acquainted with their duties. He did not believe in what he had so
often heard of, “beginning at the foot of the ladder.” He wanted
to reach the top at a single leap; but, turn which way he would, he
found that some preparation was necessary to enable him to fill any
position in life. He was fairly at his wit’s end. He had his choice
between going to school and going to work, and the question was,
which of these two evils was the least? This point, however, was soon
decided against the school; and then, for fully an hour, Tom rolled
and tumbled about on the grass, trying to think of some business in
which he could engage that would enable him to make money without
labor; and, at last, an idea occurred to him that seemed to fill
all the requirements of the occasion. Without stopping to think the
matter over, for fear of discovering some defects in it that had not
appeared at first sight, Tom sprang to his feet, and running into the
house, burst into the room where his father sat, exclaiming:
“I’ve got it now! I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”
“Well,” said Mr. Newcombe, looking up from his paper.
“You know,” began Tom, drawing a chair close to his father’s side,
“you know that I have forty-eight dollars due me, that I earned on
the Savannah, and if you will give it to me, I’ll speculate with it.”
“Well,” said Mr. Newcombe, again, “what will you speculate in?”
Tom’s bright hopes fell instantly. He had not thought of that.
“I’ll tell you what you might do,” at length, said his father, who
saw that Tom’s new idea could be made profitable to him in more ways
than one, “you might contract with Bob Jennings to take all the
fish he can catch, at a certain price; but before you enter into an
agreement with him, go to some store--Mr. Henry’s, for instance--ask
what he is paying for fish per pound, and then you will know how much
to offer Bob. If Mr. Henry is paying four cents, you might agree to
give Bob two and a half, or three cents a pound.”
“I understand,” said Tom.
“Then there is another way you might make something,” continued Mr.
Newcombe. “Butter, eggs, potatoes, and chickens are cheaper up the
coast a few miles than they are here in the village, and you might
take a sail up there some day, purchase a cargo, and bring it down
here and sell it.”
“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Tom, joyfully. “That’s just the very business
I always wanted to go into. I’ll be certain to make lots of money;
and it’s easy work, too.”
Mr. Newcombe resumed his paper, without making any reply; and Tom,
being again left to his own resources, walked about the house so
uneasy that he hardly knew what to do with himself--for, having
determined upon his course, he was impatient to begin operations at
once. It was then about nine o’clock, and, of course, too late to
make arrangements for carrying out his new scheme that night; and
after loitering about the house for half an hour, he went to bed,
full of his glorious ideas for the future, and so restless that it
was almost midnight before he fell asleep.
It may not be improper to remark, that the last plan suggested by
Mr. Newcombe, was one which, if properly managed, Tom might have
made profitable. Bob Jennings had often thought of it; and many a
time, as he rowed by the merchant’s house, had he wished that he was
the owner of a sail-boat like Tom’s, for then he would have turned
trader; and two months’ work, he was confident, would have enabled
him to lay by a sufficient sum to support his mother while he was
gone on his first voyage. But, as it was, he was powerless. His old,
leaky scow could not be trusted very far from shore, and thus Bob was
obliged to lose one source of income--one that, under his control,
would have yielded him more in one week than his fishing did in a
month. Mr. Newcombe had consented to his son’s scheme, for the reason
that he was in hopes that Tom, by being brought in contact with
business men, might be made to see his deficiencies so plainly that
he would be ashamed of them. He resolved to assist him, but, at the
same time, to allow him full control of his business, so that when he
failed (for the merchant fully expected that his scheme would result
in failure) he could have no one to blame but himself.
The next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Newcombe started for his
office, and on the way, he stopped at a store, where he had a long
conversation with the proprietor, after which he resumed his walk. A
few moments afterward, Tom entered the store, and after the grocer
had concluded his inquiries concerning his voyage, (a matter about
which Tom said as little as possible,) he asked:
“Mr. Henry, what do you pay for fish?”
“What do I pay for them?” repeated the grocer. “Have you any to sell?
Are you going into that business?”
“Yes,” answered Tom, with the air of one who was doing an immense
trade; “I am a speculator.”
“Well, I hope you will succeed,” said Mr. Henry. “Fish are in good
demand now, and I’ll give you five cents a pound for all you will
bring me--large and small.”
Tom was satisfied with the price offered, and after holding a short
conversation with the grocer concerning the business in hand, he left
the store, and hurried toward the home of the fisher-boy. He found
Bob just getting into his boat to begin his day’s work. In a few
words, Tom stated the object of his visit, and concluded by offering
Bob three cents a pound for all the fish he could catch. The latter
at once accepted the proposition. Heretofore he had only received
two cents a pound; and as he was not the only fisherman about the
village, he not unfrequently found it impossible to dispose of his
day’s work at any price.
“Well, then!” said Tom, after they had talked the matter over.
“It’s a bargain. You are to bring me all the fish you can catch,
and I am to give you three cents a pound for them, here at your
house. Now, Bob, we ought to have that in writing. It will look more
business-like.”
As Tom spoke, he drew from his pocket a memorandum-book and pencil.
He had often noticed that his father carried these articles, and, not
wishing to omit any thing that would make him appear like a business
man, he had taken care to provide himself with every thing necessary
before leaving home. He seated himself on the ground, and, after
considerable study, drew up the following:
CONTRAK.
be it known by all Men that ime Agreed To take all the Fish you can
ketch here at your house at three cents a pond every day When you
Get them.
thomas newcombe.
This he signed with a flourish, and handed to Bob, who was astonished
at the bad spelling and worse writing. But Tom evidently thought it
just right, for he tore another leaf out of his book, saying, as he
did so: “Bob, that’s yours to keep. Now I must have one too;” and he
proceeded to write a second contract, which ran thus:
CONTRAK.
be it known that You are Agreed To Give me all the fish you can
Ketch here at your Home Every day except sundays for three Cents a
pond Good wait and no cheeting.
“Now, Bob,” he exclaimed, when he had finished the document, “sign
that, if you are an honest man.”
The fisher-boy, after considerable trouble, deciphered the bad
writing and spelling; and, although he thought the contract might
have been better worded, he made no remark, for fear of offending his
customer, but took the pencil and signed his name so plainly that
even Tom could read it without stopping to spell it over.
“Now,” said the young trader, as he carefully folded up his contract,
“we’re all right. Father says that whenever one man goes into
business with another, he ought to make him sign an agreement; then
both know just what is required of them. That’s the way I intend to
conduct my business. What time will you be back, Bob?”
The fisher-boy answered that he would return at five o’clock; and,
after Tom had promised to be on hand, he put his memorandum-book into
his pocket, thrust his pencil behind his ear, and started toward
his father’s office. Mr. Newcombe, as usual, was very busy, but he
managed to obtain a few moments in which to attend to Tom, who,
delighted with the success that had attended him thus far, asked for
two dollars, with which to carry on his day’s business. The money was
counted out, and Tom was requested to write a receipt, in order, as
his father said, that he might learn “how to do business properly.”
Tom seated himself at his father’s desk, and tried hard to think how
a receipt ought to be written. He twisted about in his chair, bit his
pen, and, at the end of a quarter of an hour, handed his father a
slip of paper, on which was written the following:
you Give me too dollars to by Fish.
your affectionate Son
thomas newcombe.
Mr. Newcombe put the receipt into his pocket, and then proceeded
to give Tom advice in regard to the manner in which his business
ought to be conducted. But the young trader shook his head in a very
knowing manner, as if to say: “I understand all about that;” and
presently he left the office, and walked about the wharf with his
hands in his pockets, and his pencil behind his ear.
Tom was very well satisfied with himself that morning; he had
an object to accomplish, something to live for. He was a man of
business, and he took no little pride in the thought that he had
earned, with his own hands, the two dollars he carried in his pocket.
Besides that, he had forty-six dollars more, all his own money, which
would be counted out to him whenever he saw fit to call for it. His
immediate success he regarded as a thing beyond a doubt; and, giving
full sway to his fancy, he began to wonder what he should do with his
profits.
He had often seen a neat little trading sloop, named the Swallow,
sailing in and out of the harbor, and, on the morning in question,
she was moored at his father’s wharf. As Tom stood looking at her,
admiring the graceful manner in which she rode the little swells that
came rolling into the harbor, he resolved that the first money he
made should be devoted to buying a sloop exactly like that. Then the
object of his ambition would be realized, for he would be the master
of his own vessel. Tom was elated with the idea, and to enable him
to think the matter over to the best advantage, he went into a store
close by, and invested twenty cents in candy. He then returned to the
wharf, where he sat watching the sloop, until he saw his father leave
his office at noon.
The day was a long one to Tom, for he was impatient for five o’clock
to come, that he might transact his business with Bob Jennings. In
order that he might make the time pass more quickly, he employed
himself in eating candy, apples, and nuts, and in this way he managed
to spend a dollar and a quarter. During the afternoon he met several
boys of his acquaintance on the streets, and to them he explained
his business in the most glowing language, and even conducted them to
the wharf, to show them the sloop which was to serve as a model for
the one he intended to build. All his playmates looked upon him as a
“lucky boy;” and even Tom began to think that the object he had in
view was really worth working for.