A NIGHT ADVENTURE.
“Just my luck!” exclaimed Wade, when he was in the street. “Not a
single cent left! To think there should be any one in that little mean
hotel to take a dollar and thirty-five cents from a poor boy like me!”
But it was no use to complain. He had made ten cents that morning,
and he might do a large business of this kind. But all the passengers
from the steamers had gone to their hotels or elsewhere; and he walked
along to one of the large ferries that bring travellers across from
the railroads on the Jersey shore. He happened to hit quite a crowd
of them, and he began to offer his services. He had spoken to half a
dozen, though without success, when three stout fellows came up to him.
“Out of this, country!” said one of them, with a threatening
demonstration. “If you don’t get out of this, you will get a crack on
the sconce.”
He could not exactly see how the fellows knew he was from the country;
but, as it was a fact, he was not disposed to raise any issue on the
question. But he wanted to know by what right they ordered him away
from this locality. He thought he had as good right there as they had.
“What’s that for?” he asked; and he did not like the idea of fighting
three of them as big as himself.
“Sure we have the license to carry baggage from this place, and we
won’t let the business be taken from us by no countryman,” replied the
spokesman of the party.
“You have a license! What’s that?” added Wade.
“Don’t you know what a license is?” hooted the fellow. “Don’t the city
give us the right to carry baggage from this ferry?”
“I don’t know. Does it?”
“Faith, if you’re not out of this in half a minute, we’ll show you how
it is;” and the speaker shook his dirty fists in Wade’s face.
“If you have a license, of course I won’t meddle with your business,”
replied Wade prudently. “But that’s just my luck.”
Wade walked up and down the street, looking for a job, but nothing
could he find. He went into shops of every kind: he applied at the
barges and oyster-boats, and went on board of the vessels. No one
wanted a boy. Those whom he addressed would hardly give him a civil
answer; and, if he said any thing after they had given him the usual
short answer, he was driven away with oaths and abuse.
At noon there was no dinner for him, for he had not a cent to pay for
the meal; and he continued to wander about the city, asking for work,
till the middle of the afternoon, when he was so tired that he could
walk no farther. He was hungry too, but he knew no better where to get
a supper than a dinner. He had been tramping up and down Broadway; and
he came to Union Square, where he was very glad to sit an hour, and
rest himself.
When he was rested, he walked to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, for he wanted
to know what had become of Lon and Matt. He explored the lower part
of the house, but he saw nothing of his late fellow-voyagers on the
river. They might be in their room; and, when he presented himself at
the elevator, the attendant, who had seen him the day before, did not
object to his taking passage in the car; and in a minute or two he was
at the top of the house. He went to the room which Lon and Matt had
occupied, and knocked; but no one seemed to be in the apartment. What
had become of them?
He returned to the elevator, which had not yet descended, and took a
seat in the car. He was rather sorry not to find the two runaways, for
he was thinking seriously of returning to Midhampton. It was better to
go back to Obed Swikes’s, and live as he had before, than to starve
in the great city. As it was, he did not see how he could get back.
He could not start on an empty stomach, and expect to walk sixty or
seventy miles.
“What has become of the two fellows that slept in No. 542?” asked Wade
of the elevator-man.
“The two that came yesterday? Faith, there has been great looking for
those same boys,” replied the man. “This morning the father of one of
them came to look for them, for the clerk telegraphed to him that his
son was at the hotel; but they couldn’t find them. The bed wasn’t slept
in last night; and they must have left in the evening.”
Wade thought he understood it. After he had seen them, they were afraid
to stay any longer, and had left soon after he had gone. He couldn’t
make peace with them, and get something to eat. He walked about the
lower part of the hotel, and among other places visited the bar-room.
On the counter he saw some crackers and cheese. He concluded they were
placed there to eat; and, as the man in charge was reading a book at
the farther end of the counter, he helped himself to as much of the
coveted provision as he dared to take. He sat down in a corner, and ate
it.
He was quite faint with his long fast; and the food, light as it was,
restored him. A servant looked at him half a dozen times, and then
told him loafers were not allowed about the house. Poor Wade had never
considered himself a loafer; and he thought it was a terrible thing to
be called by such a name. He rose from his comfortable seat, and left
the great hotel. He felt that no one could turn him out of the streets,
and he felt more at home there. But it was not pleasant to think of
wandering about the city all night, as he had all day. He thought he
might find some shed or other building where he could sleep on a hard
floor, and that he should be more likely to find such accommodations
near the wharf. He walked to the vicinity of the pier where he had
landed the day before.
It was nearly night; and he found that all the great buildings which
he had seen open earlier in the day were now closed. But his former
experience in the “Mud-turtle” caused him to look at the various craft
in the river. Plenty of boats would be left open during the night, and
he could leave early in the morning before the owners wished to use
them. He walked along by the side of the water till he saw a handsome
schooner of not more than forty tons, which looked as though she might
give him a resting-place till morning. He waited till it was quite
dark, and then went on board of her.
He found that she was a very beautiful vessel; and he had no doubt she
was a pleasure-yacht, such as Loud, the purchaser of his boat, had
pointed out to him. The cabin-door was securely locked; and he went
forward to see if there was any way in that part of the vessel to get
under the deck, for the nights were chilly. There was a fore-hatch, but
that was secured by a padlock. Under the foresail there was a skylight,
the sashes on each side of which could be raised when desirable. He
tried one of them, but it was fastened; the other was not, for some
careless steward had neglected his duty.
Wade Brooks meant to do his duty in all things, and not do any thing
that he knew to be wrong; but the fact that everybody had used the
“Mud-turtle” at will probably gave him the idea that there could be
nothing out of the way in his sleeping on board of this yacht. He
opened the skylight, and climbed down into the space below. When he had
been in the place where he had brought up for a few moments, he could
penetrate the darkness enough to discern the objects the apartment
contained. He saw a stove; and this satisfied him that he was in the
kitchen of the yacht; and Loud had told him that rich men lived in
these boats for weeks and even months. He felt about him to get a
better idea of the place, and happened to put his hand on a match-box
near the stove. It was full of matches, and he lighted one of them in
order to find a good place to sleep. He saw a door which he thought
opened into the cabin; but it was locked.
But he did not care to go into the cabin: he was content to take a
less inviting part of the craft. On one side of the kitchen he found a
door which was not fastened; and he opened it, lighting another match
to see what the room contained. Though he did not know it, this was
the state-room of the sailing-master. At the other end of it was a
door opening into the cabin. In the state-room was a single berth with
a good deal of space under it. The bed was all made up; but Wade did
not think it was quite the thing for him to get into it, for it looked
very nice and clean. The space under it was good enough for him; and,
lighting a third match, he proceeded to examine it. It seemed to be
filled up with old coats and other garments, which are always useful in
a boat. They made a good bed, and Wade at once buried himself in them.
It was hardly seven o’clock, but the wanderer was so tired that he
dropped asleep almost as soon as he had stretched himself out. He was
chilly, and he had worried himself into the deepest depths of the pile
of old garments. Though the ripple of the waves as they beat against
the side of the yacht could be heard, there was no other sound to
disturb the sleeper.
At three o’clock in the morning, though Wade knew not the time, he was
awakened by the sound of voices, and by a great noise on the deck of
the yacht. He was alarmed, for he would not have been caught in the
vessel for a great deal. He would be accused of an attempt to steal,
or something of that kind. It would be “just his luck” to be charged
with some crime which he had never meditated. But to show himself was
to confess that he was on board of the vessel; and all the rest would
follow. He determined to keep still, and trust to his chances to escape
at a favorable time.
He lay still and listened; and the loudest noise was on the deck. He
was sure they were getting the yacht under way; but he thought it was
very odd for gentlemen who sailed for pleasure to go off in the middle
of the night, as he judged it to be. In a few minutes more, the tipping
of the vessel upon one side assured him that she was under way, as did
the increased splashing of the water against the side of the yacht. As
soon as the vessel was in motion the noise on deck ceased. Wade found
that the door leading into the cabin had been opened, and he realized
that several persons occupied that apartment. He heard the voices of at
least two women, and they seemed to be crying when they spoke.
Of course Wade was deeply interested in the proceedings, and he
listened with all his might. In a little while he was conscious, from
the talk he heard, that one of the party had been guilty of some crime,
or had done something wrong. They spoke out loud; and the wanderer
beneath the captain’s berth had no difficulty in understanding all that
was said.