THE ROOM UNDER THE WHARF.
It was at a late hour when the boys left the theatre. The play had been
of a highly sensational character, and had been greeted with
enthusiastic applause on the part of the audience, particularly the
occupants of the "pit." Now, as they emerged from the portals of the
theatre, various characteristic remarks of a commendatory character were
interchanged.
"How'd you like it, Ben?" asked Barney.
"Bully," said Ben.
"I liked the fight best," said Barney. "Jones give it to him just about
right."
"Yes, that was good," said Ben; "but I liked it best where Alphonso says
to Montmorency, 'Caitiff, beware, or, by the heavens above, my trusty
sword shall drink thy foul heart's blood!'"
Ben gave this with the stage emphasis, so far as he could imitate it.
Barney listened admiringly.
"I say, Ben," he replied, "you did that bully. You'd make a tip-top
actor."
"Would I?" said Ben, complacently. "I think I'd like to try it if I knew
enough. How much money have you got, Barney?"
"Nary a red. I spent the last on peanuts."
"Just my case. We'll have to find some place to turn in for the night."
"I know a place," said Barney, "if they'll let us in."
"Whereabouts is it?"
"Down to Dover Street wharf."
"What sort of a place is it? There aint any boxes or old wagons, are
there?"
"No, it's under the wharf,--a bully place."
"Under the wharf! It's wet, isn't it?"
"No, you just come along. I'll show you."
Having no other place to suggest, Ben accepted his companion's guidance,
and the two made their way by the shortest route to the wharf named. It
is situated not far from Fulton Ferry on the east side. It may be called
a double wharf. As originally built, it was found too low for the class
of vessels that used it, and another flooring was built over the first,
leaving a considerable space between the two. Its capabilities for a
private rendezvous occurred to a few boys, who forthwith proceeded to
avail themselves of it. It was necessary to carry on their proceedings
secretly; otherwise there was danger of interference from the city
police. What steps they took to make their quarters comfortable will
shortly be described.
When they reached the wharf, Barney looked about him with an air of
caution, which Ben observed.
"What are you scared of?" asked Ben.
"We mustn't let the 'copp' see us," said Barney, "Don't make no noise."
Thus admonished, Ben followed his companion with as little noise as
possible.
"How do you get down there?" he asked.
"I'll show you," said Barney.
He went to the end of the wharf, and, motioning Ben to look over, showed
him a kind of ladder formed by nailing strips of wood, at regular
intervals, from the outer edge down to the water's edge. This was not
an arrangement of the boys, but was for the accommodation of river-boats
landing at the wharf.
"I'll go down first," whispered Barney. "If the 'copp' comes along, move
off, so he won't notice nothin'."
"All right!" said Ben.
Barney got part way down the ladder, when a head was protruded from
below, and a voice demanded, "Who's there?"
"It's I,--Barney Flynn."
"Come along, then."
"I've got a fellow with me," continued Barney.
"Who is it?"
"It's Ben, the baggage-smasher. He wants to stop here to-night."
"All right; we can trust him."
"Come along, Ben," Barney called up the ladder.
Ben quickly commenced the descent. Barney was waiting for him, and held
out his hand to help him off. Our hero stepped from the ladder upon the
lower flooring of the wharf, and looked about him with some curiosity.
It was certainly a singular spectacle that met his view. About a dozen
boys were congregated in the room under the wharf, and had evidently
taken some pains to make themselves comfortable. A carpet of good size
was spread over a portion of the flooring. Upon this three beds were
spread, each occupied by three boys. Those who could not be accommodated
in this way laid on the carpet. Some of the boys were already asleep;
two were smoking, and conversing in a low voice. Looking about him Ben
recognized acquaintances in several of them.[A]
"Is that you, Mike Sweeny?" he asked of a boy stretched out on the
nearest bed.
"Yes," said Mike; "come and lay alongside of me."
There was no room on the bed, but Ben found space beside it on the
carpet, and accordingly stretched himself out.
[A] The description of the room under the wharf, and the circumstances
of its occupation by a company of street boys, are not imaginary. It was
finally discovered, and broken up by the police, the details being
given, at the time, in the daily papers, as some of my New York readers
will remember. Discovery did not take place, however, until it had been
occupied some time.
"How do you like it?" asked Mike.
"Tip-top," said Ben. "How'd you get the carpet and beds? Did you buy
'em?"
"Yes," said Mike, with a wink; "but the man wasn't in, and we didn't pay
for 'em."
"You stole them, then?"
"We took 'em," said Mike, who had an objection to the word stole.
"How did you get them down here without the copp seein' you?"
"We hid 'em away in the daytime, and didn't bring 'em here till night.
We came near gettin' caught."
"How long have you been down here?"
"Most a month."
"It's a good place."
"Yes," said Mike, "and the rent is very reasonable. We don't have to pay
nothin' for lodgin'. It's cheaper'n the Lodge."
"That's so," said Ben. "I'm sleepy," he said, gaping. "I've been to the
Old Bowery to-night. Good-night!"
"Good-night!"
In five minutes Ben was fast asleep. Half an hour later, and not a sound
was heard in the room under the wharf except the occasional deep
breathing of some of the boys. The policeman who trod his beat near by
little suspected that just at hand, and almost under his feet, was a
rendezvous of street vagrants and juvenile thieves, for such I am sorry
to say was the character of some of the boys who frequented these cheap
lodgings.
In addition to the articles already described there were two or three
chairs, which had been contributed by different members of the
organization.
Ben slept soundly through the night. When he woke up, the gray morning
light entering from the open front towards the sea had already lighted
up indistinctly the space between the floors. Two or three of the boys
were already sitting up, yawning and stretching themselves after their
night's slumber. Among these was Mike Sweeny.
"Are you awake, Ben?" he asked.
"Yes," said Ben; "I didn't hardly know where I was at first."
"It's a bully place, isn't it?"
"That's so. How'd you come across it?"
"Oh, some of us boys found it out. We've been sleepin' here a month."
"Won't you let a feller in?"
"We might let you in. I'll speak to the boys."
"I'd like to sleep here," said Ben. "It's a good deal better than
sleepin' out round. Who runs the hotel?"
"Well, I'm one of 'em."
"You might call it Sweeny's Hotel," suggested Ben, laughing.
"I aint the boss; Jim Bagley's got most to do with it."
"Which is he?"
"That's he, over on the next bed."
"What does he do?"
"He's a travellin' match merchant."
"That sounds big."
"Jim's smart,--he is. He makes more money'n any of us."
"Where does he travel?"
"Once he went to Californy in the steamer. He got a steerage ticket for
seventy-five dollars; but he made more'n that blackin' boots for the
other passengers afore they got there. He stayed there three months, and
then came home."
"Does he travel now?"
"Yes, he buys a lot of matches, and goes up the river or down into
Jersey, and is gone a week. A little while ago he went to Buffalo."
"Oh, yes; I know where that is."
"Blest if I do."
"It's in the western part of York State, just across from Canada."
"Who told you?"
"I learned it in school."
"I didn't know you was a scholar, Ben."
"I aint now. I've forgot most all I ever knew. I haven't been to school
since I was ten years old."
"Where was that?"
"In the country."
"Well, I never went to school more'n a few weeks. I can read a little,
but not much."
"It costs a good deal to go to Buffalo. How did Jim make it while he was
gone?"
"Oh, he came home with ten dollars in his pocket besides payin' his
expenses."
"What does Jim do with all his money?"
"He's got a mother and sister up in Bleecker Street, or somewheres round
there. He pays his mother five dollars a week, besides takin' care of
himself."
"Why don't he live with his mother?"
"He'd rather be round with the boys."
I may remark here that Jim Bagley is a real character, and all that has
been said about him is derived from information given by himself, in a
conversation held with him at the Newsboys' Lodging House. He figures
here, however, under an assumed name, partly because the record in which
his real name is preserved has been mislaid. The impression made upon
the mind of the writer was, that Jim had unusual business ability and
self-reliance, and might possibly develop into a successful and
prosperous man of business.
Jim by this time was awake.
"Jim Bagley," said Mike, "here's a feller would like to put up at our
hotel."
"Who is he?" asked Jim.
The travelling match merchant, as Mike had described him, was a boy of
fifteen, rather small of his age, with a keen black eye, and a quick,
decided, business-like way.
"It's this feller,--he's a baggage-smasher," explained Mike.
"All right," said Jim; "he can come if he'll pay his share."
"How much is it?" asked Ben.
Mike explained that it was expected of each guest to bring something
that would add to the comforts of the rendezvous. Two boys had
contributed the carpet, for which probably they had paid nothing; Jim
had supplied a bed, for which he did pay, as "taking things without
leave" was not in his line. Three boys had each contributed a chair.
Thus all the articles which had been accumulated were individual
contributions. Ben promised to pay his admission fee in the same way,
but expressed a doubt whether he might not have to wait a few days, in
order to save money enough to make a purchase. He never stole himself,
though his association with street boys, whose principles are not
always very strict on this point, had accustomed him to regard theft as
a venial fault, provided it was not found out. For his own part,
however, he did not care to run the risk of detection. Though he had cut
himself off from his old home, he still felt that he should not like to
have the report reach home that he had been convicted of dishonesty.
At an early hour the boys shook off their slumbers, and one by one left
the wharf to enter upon their daily work. The newsboys were the first to
go, as they must be on hand at the newspaper offices early to get their
supply of papers, and fold them in readiness for early customers. The
boot-blacks soon followed, as most of them were under the necessity of
earning their breakfast before they ate it. Ben also got up early, and
made his way to the pier of the Stonington line of steamers from Boston.
These usually arrived at an early hour, and there was a good chance of a
job in Ben's line when the passengers landed.