TONY MAKES ANOTHER BREAK.
"Go way! Go way from dar, boy!" exclaimed the cook, when Tony presented
himself before that important personage. "Didn't de fus' mate done tol'
you to turn to?"
"He did," replied the boy, "but the other one ordered me to come here
and help you."
"Den dat's all right. Dar's the dinner I done save for you; but you'd
bes' eat wid one hand, an' do something else wid de other, kase if de
fas' mate look in hyar an' see dat you ain't doin' nuffin' but eat,
he'll find work for you, suah. Dat's de kind of a man he is!"
Acting upon this advice, Tony ate his dinner by snatches, and for a
short half hour he was allowed a little peace; but at the end of that
time, the cargo was all aboard, the hatchways were closed, and a tug
came alongside to tow the schooner to the Gulf. As she was to pick up
two or three other small vessels on the way, the services of all hands,
as well as those of the cook and his clumsy subordinates, were called
into requisition in making up the tow.
No doubt there were many interesting sights to be seen along the river
below New Orleans, but if there were, Tony never knew it. He was kept
busy every moment, and between handling wet lines and hauling at the
halliards and sheets, his blistered palms fared badly indeed. He ate his
supper as he had eaten his dinner, holding his food with one hand and
working with the other; and at ten o'clock tumbled into his hard bed,
aching in every joint, and almost ready to cry with weariness and
disappointment.
"I know I have made a mistake," thought the runaway, who had borne up
remarkably well considering all the circumstances. Almost all the boys
who leave home as he did, shed bitter tears of repentance before the
first night has passed over their heads. "Bradley was right when he
said, that I am not the sort of stuff that sailors are made off, for I
can't stand it, to work all the time as hard as I can put in. I've made
one break, and if I get the chance I'll make another; but this one will
be toward home."
Tony was very homesick now; and he awoke the next morning from a fitful
slumber into which he had fallen, to find that he had been attacked by
another malady, that was almost as bad--sea-sickness. He got up when all
hands were called, but the officer on watch, seeing his condition, did
not order him to turn to. They were now well out in the Gulf, and the
shores of Louisiana were lying low in the horizon. The waves raised by
the brisk wind that was blowing, tossed the little schooner about in a
way, that made it impossible for Tony to keep his feet without holding
fast to something; and now and then a billow, higher than the rest,
would dash against her bows, and send the water in a shower all over the
deck. This was the life for which Tony had so often longed; but now that
he was having a little experience of it, he did not like it. The
bounding and plunging of the schooner, were very different from the
smooth, gliding motion of a river steamer, and Tony was frightened.
He never forgot the horrors of that day. His sea-sickness grew worse
every moment, and finally prostrated Tony, who took to his bunk and
stayed there, expecting every moment to be his last. When he found
himself, as he supposed, standing face to face with death, his courage
gave away altogether, and his hard pillow was wet with the tears that
could no longer be restrained. He thought of the innumerable pleasures
that had been his while he was at home, of the indulgences that had been
so freely granted to him, and he wondered why in the world he had never
appreciated them before. The little trials and troubles that fell to his
lot, appeared very insignificant now.
"I was a fool," said Tony, bitterly, "and if I ever live to get off this
vessel, I'll go as straight home as I can go. Thank goodness, I have
money enough to pay my fare from Havana to New Orleans."
As Tony said this, he raised himself to a sitting posture in his bunk;
took up the clothes-bag that served him for a pillow, and began throwing
out its contents. He was so ill, that he did not notice that the
articles were not so neatly packed away as they ought to have been. He
had placed the suit he wore, when he first came aboard the schooner, in
the top of the bag, so that it would not be wrinkled by the other
clothes pressing upon it; but he found it at the bottom. The vest was
the last article he brought to light, and to his great surprise and
alarm, he found that all the pockets had been turned inside out. Then it
flashed upon him, that the money he had been talking about had
disappeared. Somebody had robbed him. He held the vest away from him
with both hands, gazed at it a moment, and then dropped back upon his
back.
Whether he went to sleep or became unconscious, Tony afterward said he
didn't know; but he could not remember anything that happened during the
next few hours. When he came to himself it was dark, and the forecastle
was dimly lighted by a smoky lantern which hung from one of the beams
overhead. His sea-sickness was all gone, and he was very hungry. He was
pretty strong too, he found, when he came to sit up in his bunk, and he
was able to think clearly and to remember the resolution he had made
that morning.
"I am not going too stay among such a heartless lot as these sailors
are," thought the runaway, as he picked up the various articles of
clothing that were scattered about over the blankets, and put them back
into his bag. "I have been as sick as a fellow could be all day, and
not a soul has been near me to see whether I was getting better or
worse. I don't believe there is one among them who would care a cent if
I had died. That's not like the folks at home; and right there is where
I am going, with as little delay as possible."
Having put all his clothes back into his bag, Tony threw off the
blankets and arose to his feet. Then, he found, that he was not as
strong as he thought he was; but still he managed to make his way to the
deck. The crew, who were gathered about the windlass singing songs and
telling stories (it was the second dog-watch, as the hours from six to
eight in the evening are called, and they are the only hours of
recreation known on shipboard), paid no attention to him as he staggered
toward the galley; but Mr. Sands greeted him very cordially.
"I kinder reckoned you'd come around purty soon, an' so I kep' something
hot for you," said he. "Come in an' take a bite. You don't look so peart
as you did yesterday, when you come to de winder an' called me
Snowball."
"I don't feel so smart, either," replied Tony, in a faint voice. "I am
obliged to you for thinking of me when everybody else seems to have
forgotten me, and I will try to drink a cup of tea as soon as I come
back. I am going to see the captain."
"What you want to see de capin' for?" demanded the cook. "Better keep
away from him? I tell you. He don't like for to be pestered."
"I am not going to pester him. I want to tell him that I have been
robbed. I left fifteen dollars in the pocket of my vest when I put it
into my clothes-bag, and somebody has gone through it and stolen the
money."
The cook did not seem to be at all surprised by this piece of news. He
did not even look up from his work.
"Well, den," said he, "what made you luff your money down dar in de
fo'castle. Dat ain't no way. 'Course it would be stole if you don't take
care on it."
"It's gone, and I want the captain to get it back for me," said Tony.
"How can he get it back for you? Can you pick out de man who stole it?"
"No, I couldn't do that; but if the captain should find those bills in
some man's pocket, wouldn't he know that he was the guilty one?" asked
Tony.
"Could you sw'ar to dem bills, if you should see em?"
"Of course not," replied Tony, who began to see what the cook was trying
to get at.
"Den how de ole man goin' to get your money back? How you know dat one
of de crew took it? Mos' likely somebody slip down into the fo'castle
an' stole it afore we luff New Orleans. You bes' drink your tea an' make
no furse. You get nuffin but jaw from de ole man; I tell you dat. Nex'
time look out."
Here was another disappointment for Tony. He supposed that the captain
would interest himself in his case at once, and that it would be no
trouble at all for him to discover the thief and restore the lost money;
but now he saw that there were difficulties in the way. Suppose the
captain was willing to be "pestered" for once, that he searched the
crew, and found upon the person of each of them just fifteen dollars in
bills? How was Tony going to prove his property? He could not even prove
that he had fifteen dollars when he came aboard the schooner, for
Bradley, who was the only one who was acquainted with the fact, was
miles away at that moment.
"It's gone, and that's all there is about it," said Tony, to himself, as
he leaned against the bulkhead, and nibbled a piece of dry toast and
drank a decoction of herbs called tea, which the cook poured out for
him. "It's gone, and I am penniless as well as friendless. There is only
one thing I can do now, and if I live, I am going to do it."
The tea and toast tasted better than Tony thought they would; the fresh
gulf breeze blew away the slight headache he had brought out of the
forecastle with him, and gave him a little strength, and the boy finally
mustered up ambition enough to assist the cook in his work about the
galley. While he was thus engaged, the second mate came by, and seeing
that Tony had got upon his feet again, he stopped at the door long
enough to tell him that he belonged to his (the second mate's) watch,
which would go on duty at eight o'clock and remain on until midnight.
The crew of the Princeton was so small that the men were obliged to
stand watch and watch, all hands being on duty during the daytime.
Tony awoke the next morning to pass through the hardest day he had yet
experienced on shipboard. His troubles began at once, for everybody,
including Mr. Sands, seemed to have got up cross. While he was engaged
in washing down the deck, he was thoroughly drenched by a bucket of
water which was thrown into his face by the first-mate, who would not
allow him to go below to change his clothing, but ordered him into the
galley as soon as the scrubbing was done.
"Get out o' hyar, boy!" exclaimed the cook, when his assistant presented
himself before him with dripping garments. "I done wash dis galley dis
mornin', an' now you muss it all up again."
"What am I to do?" asked Tony, in some alarm. "The mate won't let me
change my clothes and you don't want me here."
"Well, den, go into de cabin an' set de table afore de ole man gets up,"
commanded Mr. Sands.
Tony stopped long enough to wring some of the water out of the legs of
his trowsers (that brought him a blessing from the second-mate, who told
him in rather sharp language, that that part of the deck had been
swabbed up once), and after drying his hands on one of the cook's
towels, he hurried into the cabin. When he was putting up the leaves of
the table, he heard the captain moving about in his stateroom and he
made all the haste he could, hoping to complete his work before that
officer came out; for he noticed with no little uneasiness, that he was
leaving a trail behind him wherever he went. It could be plainly seen,
too, dingy as the carpet was; and it was the first thing that caught the
captain's eye when he opened the door of his stateroom, which he did,
before Tony had fairly begun setting the table.
"What's that?" roared the captain, looking first at the carpet and then
at Tony.
"The mate threw a bucket of water over me, sir," replied the boy.
"Suppose he did! Haven't you sense enough to go and get on a dry suit?"
demanded the captain.
"I wanted too, sir, but he wouldn't let me."
"Well, I tell you to go and do it now."
The captain took a step forward, and Tony, who had already learned to
expect a kick every time he received a reprimand, sprang quickly up the
ladder.
"Now, I'll see what that mate will do about it," said he, as he made his
way toward the forecastle; and sure enough he did. He had scarcely
taken down his bag of clothes, when he heard footsteps, and looking up
saw the mate coming down the ladder. He walked straight up to Tony, and
without saying a word, knocked him flat with a blow of his fist.
"Are you going to obey orders or not?" said he, looking down at the
prostrate boy, who was so badly stunned, that he could not get upon his
feet. "I didn't tell you to come in here. I told you to go into the
galley. Now start or I'll give you another."
Tony heard the words, but they put no life into him. They seemed to come
from some far away source, and to have no reference whatever to himself.
He did not even know that they were addressed to him, nor did he fully
comprehend the mate's threat to give him another. He knew when the
officer picked him up and shook him; but when he was released, he sunk
down beside his bunk again. He heard the mate say, that he thought he
had received a lesson that he would not soon forget; and saw him when he
ascended to the deck, but still he did not move. He must have laid there
for half an hour or more, seeing everything in the forecastle and
hearing all that went on on deck, but fully sensible of nothing; and
during that time, no one came near him. At last his scattered faculties
began to come back to him very gradually, accompanied by a splitting
headache. After two or three ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in
rolling into his bunk; and for the first time since he could remember,
cried himself into a dreamless slumber.
His tears or the refreshing sleep he enjoyed put his head all right
again, but he found, upon examination, that his face was pretty badly
battered. His eyes had a long way to look to see beyond the swelling
that surrounded them, and when he made his way to the deck, the crew
looked at him in the greatest surprise. So did Mr. Sands, who, without
saying a word, led him into the galley and placed him in front of a
little piece of looking-glass that was nailed to the bulkhead. Both his
eyes were as black as his hat.
"Does you feel sick?" asked the cook, in a tone of sympathy.
"Yes, I do--sick at heart," added Tony, to himself. "Things never go
right with me as they do with other fellows, and I might just as well
fold my hands and let them go as they please without making any effort
to better myself. There's one thing about it: I'll burn up those lying
books as soon as I get home, and never think of a sailor or salt water
again."
"I knowed you didn't do right to go an' raise a furse wid dat fus'
mate," continued the cook. "He's a bad one."
Tony replied that he didn't raise any fuss with him, and then went on to
tell why the mate had knocked him down. When he had finished his story,
the darkey shook his head as if to say that it was a hard case
altogether; and then he whispered to Tony--
"He never luff up on you now so long as you stay aboard dis schooner. He
get wusser every day, an' de fus' thing you know you find yourself
overboard. Boy, you'd bes' cl'ar yourself."
"That's just what I am determined to do," answered Tony, in the same
cautious whisper. "How far are we from Havana?"
"We oughter to be dar to-morrer," replied Mr. Sands. "Now, I'll tell you
what's a fac': I allers have to go ashore arter de grub, an' I'll take
you along to help me tote it. If you shouldn't come back wid me, I
wouldn't blame you."
As the cook said this, he winked at his assistant, who tried to respond
in the same way; but he didn't succeed very well.
Tony's face would have excited the sympathy of anybody but a brutal
mate. The one who had given him the blow, called upon him just as often,
and expected just as much of him, as he would if the boy had been in
good working condition. His creed was, that so long as a foremast hand
was able to stand upon his feet, he was able to do duty; and more than
that, he must attend to it or take the consequences. Tony succeeded in
escaping further punishment, and it was well for him that he did so, for
another blow like that might have settled the business for him for ever.
The next morning at eight o'clock, the Princeton was made fast to a
jetty in the harbor of Havana, where she was to remain two or three
days, or until she had discharged a portion of her cargo and taken on
some more which she had been chartered to carry to Rio.
As soon as she was fairly in her berth and everything had been made
snug, the doctor and his assistant made ready to go ashore--or rather
the doctor did, for when Tony was about to descend into the forecastle
to change his clothing, the first mate, who was always around when he
was not wanted, ordered him back.
"I want to put on my shore rig," said Tony. "The captain told me to go
ashore with the doctor."
"All right," was the reply. "Go as you are."
"Ay, ay, sir! I wonder if he knows what I am going to do, and if he
thinks the want of good clothes will keep me from deserting this
miserable craft?" thought the boy. "If he does, he doesn't know Tony
Richardson. I will go with the first vessel that leaves this port for
New Orleans, if I have to hang on to the rudder."
Tony did not look much like the dashing young fellow who had clambered
over the Princeton's rail a few days before. His face, to quote from the
doctor, was getting no better very fast; the cheap stuff of which his
clothes was made, already began to show large spots of dirt and numerous
signs of wear; his hands looked as though they had never been washed;
and his hair wouldn't stay anywhere. No shipmaster would care to employ
such a miserable looking object as he was to wait upon him at the
table.
"Getting to New Orleans is the hardest part of the undertaking," said
Tony, when he and the doctor were safe ashore. "If I can only reach that
city, I shall be all right. Good-by, you miserable old tub," he added,
shaking his fist at the schooner. "I only wish I were a man so that I
could take satisfaction out of that mate. Now, doctor, I am going to
leave you. Good-by!"
"Dat won't do," said the darkey, hastily. "We mustn't be friendly enough
to shake hands, kase if anybody should see us, dat would fotch Mr. Sands
into trouble."
"Then you take the baskets," said Tony, who had one on each arm, which
the captain expected him to bring back filled with fresh vegetables.
"No, sir. I'll turn my back, an' you jes' luff 'em down an' cl'ar
yourself. Dat's de bes' way. Say, boy," added the darkey, directing
Tony's attention to a large steamer that lay at a pier a short distance
further up the bay. "You see dat boat? Dat's de City of Baltimore. She
runs between dat port an' New Orleans every three weeks. We's been in
New Orleans nigh onto four weeks, an' she's never been dar, so she mus'
be goin' dar now."
"I wonder if I could get a berth on her?" exclaimed Tony.
"Dunno nuffin' 'bout dat; but I'll tell you dis for a fac': Don't you
luff dat boat go to New Orleans widout you. You hears me, I reckon.
Hello! what's dat?"
Mr. Sands suddenly became very deeply interested in something that he
thought he saw going on over toward Moro Castle, and Tony taking the
hint, deposited his baskets on the ground behind him and hurried away.
He quickly placed a building between himself and the cook, and looking
around the corner of it saw that the latter had not yet changed his
position. When he thought he had given the boy plenty of time to get out
of sight, he faced about, looked all around him, and shaking his head as
if he were completely mystified, picked up the baskets that Tony had
dropped, and walked rapidly down the street.
"He's a good-hearted fellow," said Tony, who felt some regret at parting
with his sable friend, "and he was the only one who showed me any
kindness while I was on board the schooner. I hope he won't get into
trouble by going back without me. Now, if I only had my money in my
pocket, it would be very easy for me to reach home; and if I ever get
there again I'll stay. Home is the best place, after all, and it is a
great pity I couldn't see it when I was there. The old saying:
'Experience is a hard school, and none but fools learn therein,' applies
to me very strongly. It takes the hard knocks to put sense into the
heads of some fellows--" here he raised his hand to his face--"and if I
haven't got a little now, I never shall have any."
As Tony drew nearer to the steamer, he saw that there was a goodly
number of gaily-dressed passengers on her deck watching what was passing
on the wharf. He had seen the time when he had mingled freely with just
such a company on board his father's steamers; but if he should venture
among these people in his present plight, how long would it be, he asked
himself, before somebody would take him by the collar and assist him
back to the pier? His place now was on deck and among the men, and there
he was perfectly willing to go.
"Want to ship a hand, sir?" asked Tony, stepping up to a man who was
dressed in a suit of navy blue, and wore a gold band around his cap.
"Guess not," replied the officer, taking one glance at Tony and then
turning away.
"I'll not ask for any wages, sir," pleaded Tony. "I only want to work my
passage to New Orleans."
"Don't want you," was the curt reply. "The crew is full."
This was very discouraging, but still Tony's case was not hopeless. The
doctor's parting advice, "Don't you let that boat go to New Orleans
without you," kept ringing in his ears, and to prevent it Tony was
willing to do something desperate. He walked along the wharf until he
came abreast of the stern of the vessel, and there he took his stand,
and set himself to watch the officer to whom he had spoken. He moved
away presently, and then Tony ran up the plank that led into the after
gangway. There was no one in sight, but the hatchway was open, and as
quick as thought Tony seized the combings, and swung himself into it. He
crawled along over the boxes and bales, of which the steamer's freight
was composed, and settling himself into a comfortable position by the
side of a water-butt, drew a long breath of relief, and waited to see
what was going to happen.