Castlemon Harry
George at the Wheel

CHAPTER XII
TONY FINDS A FRIEND

"The first thing is to find a place in which to hide for awhile," said Tony, to himself. "That tug can't be far away – Mr. Vandegriff said she would come up with the barge by the time the Armada had taken all the coal she wanted – and I must keep out of sight until she takes the barge in tow and goes up the river again. I don't know what folks will think when she goes back to St. Louis without me, and I don't care, either. I don't expect to see any of them again for long years to come. I will send Mr. Vandegriff his money as soon as I reach Cairo, and that will make me square with him. I believe that is the spot I am looking for."

Tony had just discovered what he declared to be "the finest kind of a hiding-place." A huge tree which had been undermined by the water had sunk down into the river, and now lay with its top resting upon the bank and its roots in the stream. These roots formed a mass twelve or fifteen feet square, and between them and the bank there was water enough to float the skiff. Tony pulled up to examine this hiding-place, his movements being accelerated by a sound which just then came to his ears. He exerted himself to the utmost, and to his great relief succeeded in running his skiff behind the roots just as the tug came around the point above. Had he been a few moments later he would certainly have been discovered.

"A miss is as good as a mile," panted Tony, as he stretched himself out under the thwarts and looked at the tug through an opening in the roots. "If she doesn't see me now she never will, for it will be pitch dark when she comes back with the barge. I'd give something to know how Jeff and Mose will explain my disappearance."

Tony kept his eyes fastened upon the tug as she moved swiftly past his place of concealment, and then he turned around, and lying with his face toward the stern of the skiff, watched her until she disappeared around the bend below. It was pitch dark when her lights came into view around the point, and her labored puffing, as she struggled against the current with her heavy burden, became audible to the ears of the runaway. Presently she began to whistle, and she kept it up at irregular intervals.

"That's for me," thought Tony. "Captain, you're only wasting steam. I hear you, but I'll not pay any attention to you."

In about two hours the tug passed Tony's hiding-place the second time, and when the sound of her exhaust began to grow fainter, the boy made his skiff fast to one of the roots and lay down to sleep. He slept, too, and his slumber was not in the least disturbed by regretful dreams of the home he had deserted. It needs contact with the world and a few hard knocks from it to show a discontented boy what home is worth, and Tony had not yet received any of these.

He awoke the next morning at daylight, hungry as a wolf, and impatient to reach Cairo in order that he might send Mr. Vandegriff's money to him. He was in a great hurry to be rid of it, for his experience on the barge had satisfied him that he was not altogether safe so long as it was in his possession. The first thing was to look out for a breakfast, and this he obtained at a farm-house he found about five miles down the river. At this place he also purchased a basket and cooked viands enough to fill it. He did not want to go supperless to bed again if he could help it.

Tony passed two more nights on the river, and by that time he had become heartily disgusted with this mode of travelling. Whenever he became tired of rowing, he drew in his oars and allowed the skiff to float with the current; but during these periods of rest, his progress was very slow, and he was so impatient to reach his journey's end, that he kept the oars in motion almost all the time. He had to be constantly on the alert, for there was a good many boats passing up and down the river, and Tony made it a point to go ashore and hide in the bushes every time one hove in sight. He was afraid that some of the pilots would see and recognise him. He was plied with questions every time he stopped for supplies. Canoeing was not as popular in those days as it has since become, and the people living along the river had not grown accustomed to the sight of solitary travellers making their way down the stream in this primitive fashion. One long-haired, unkempt Missourian, after filling his basket, informed him that he had given him a good looking over, and that if anybody came that way in a day or two looking for a stolen boat, he would be able to give an accurate description of him.

Tony passed the little town of Cape Girardeau bright and early one morning, and shortly after twelve o'clock he looked over the levee on the Illinois side, and obtained his first view of the city of Cairo. He at once directed his course across the river, and running the bow of his skiff high and dry upon the bank, he left it and the basket for the use of the first person who might be in need of them, and set out for the city on foot. In this way he saved himself a good deal of hard work, for it would have taken him two or three hours to row around the point and up the Ohio river to the wharf-boat. As it was, he reached the St. Charles hotel in about half an hour, and having purchased two sheets of note-paper and an envelope from the news-agent, he went into the office and sat down to write a letter to Mr. Vandegriff. Having made up his mind what he wanted to say, his pen moved rapidly, and in twenty minutes the letter was finished. It contained a circumstantial account of the battle on the coal-barge, and wound up with these words: —

"You told me that if those negroes attempted to rob me, and I saved your money for you, I could keep a hundred dollars out of it and hand you the balance. You will see, by reference to the book which I send you with this letter, that I have kept out fifty dollars of it, which I need to pay my expenses to the place where I am going. If you should happen to see my father, I wish you would tell him for me that I have decided to strike out for myself. I inclose you bank check for the rest of the money."

When Tony read the letter over to correct the mistakes he had made in his hurried writing, and came to this part of it, he could not help telling himself that it was rather a heartless way of taking leave of his relations; but he was in a great hurry to get through with the business he had to do before the bank closed, and he had only time to add, "Give my love to my mother." Then a sharp pang shot through his heart. He had never cherished much affection for his father, who, being completely engrossed in his business, scarcely ever spoke to Tony, except to take him to task for something he had done. But his mother; could he leave her in this way?

"It isn't too late yet," thought the runaway, settling back in his chair, and holding the letter off at arms' length. "If I leave town this afternoon by rail, I can be in St. Louis to-morrow morning, and I have half a notion – no, I haven't, either. Father would give me a regular overhauling for going away on that barge without first asking his permission (I wasn't fool enough to do that, for I know he would have said 'no' most emphatically), and what excuse could I make for dodging the tug? No, sir; this thing has gone so far that there's no backing out now."

As the boy said this he drew his hand hastily across his eyes, folded and addressed the letter, and placed it into the account book, which he put into his pocket. It was necessary that the book should go with the letter, so that Mr. Vandegriff might know how many bushels of coal the Armada had taken from the barge.

"I suppose there is a bank in this city?" said he, as he approached the clerk's counter.

"Yes, sir," was the reply; "it is in the block up the levee."

"Where is the express office?"

"Two doors this side of the bank; same block."

After thanking the clerk for this information, Tony hurried away. He had no trouble in finding the bank, and after he had counted out fifty dollars of Mr. Vandegriff's money, he handed the rest, together with the letter, to the cashier, with the request that he would give him a check on St. Louis for it, made payable to the person whose name was on the envelope. The cashier complied, and when Tony had placed the check in the letter, and the letter in the account book, he started back for the express office. The clerk he found there was accommodating enough to supply him with paper and twine, and when he had wrapped the book and its contents up in a neat package, and the clerk had further secured it by sealing it with wax, Tony paid the charges on it and went out.

"That's done," said he, as he crossed the railroad track and bent his steps toward the nearest wharf-boat, "and all I have to do now is, to find a boat that is going down the river."

Just then the afternoon train came in from the north, and the steamer lying alongside the wharf-boat began to whistle. Toward her the boy directed his course; and ten minutes later, he was seated on the boiler-deck with his chair tipped back, his feet on the railing, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, and a ticket for Memphis in his pocket. When he reached that city, he took passage on a steamer bound for New Orleans, at which place he arrived early in the morning. He stayed on board the boat long enough to get his breakfast, and then sauntered out to take a look at things along the river. He had never been in the city before, and and if he had come there under different circumstances, he would have been glad to spend a day or two in seeing the sights; but he was too full of his idea of becoming a sailor, to waste any time in that way. The sooner he found a chance to ship, the sooner he would be on the ocean.

A few minutes after he left the steamer, he obtained his first view of a sea-going vessel. Of course, he was disappointed in her; we generally are disappointed, when we see for the first time something of which we have read and heard a great deal, and which we have often longed to examine for ourselves. She was not near as large as he had expected to find her; and there were many things about her, that did not suit Tony's idea of marine architecture. While he stood on the wharf looking at her, and wondering if anybody would order him ashore if he should step aboard to take a closer view of her, he became aware that he was an object of interest to a boy a little older than himself, who was leaning over the rail, staring at Tony as hard as the latter was staring at the vessel. He was a sailor, that was plain enough to be seen; and he might have been a very good-looking one too, if he had taken a little more pains with his personal appearance. He wore a tarpaulin, which was pushed as far back on his head as it could go without falling off; a blue flannel shirt with a wide collar, and trowsers of the same material, which were thrust into a pair of heavy boots. His face was almost copper-colored; and his hands, which were large and bony, were profusely tattooed with India ink. He chewed tobacco, too, and threw away a big quid before addressing Tony.

"Want to ship?" said he.

"That's what I am here for," answered Tony. "Do you allow folks aboard there?"

"O, yes; come on. You don't look like a sailor man," he added, as Tony sprang over the rail and approached him.

"And when you first went to sea, you didn't look any more like a sailor than I do," replied Tony. "I know I am green, but I can learn as well as anybody, can't I?"

"Of course you can," said the boy, backing up against the rail, and running his eyes over Tony's clothes. "But I don't know whether you can stand the racket or not. You don't look to be any too stout."

"I shouldn't care to measure strength with you," said Tony, with a smile, "but still I have got a pretty good muscle, although I have never done a day's manual labor in my life."

"What kind of labor is that?" asked the young sailor.

"I mean that I have never worked with my hands. I have always worked with my head," explained Tony.

"O! Then you are not the stuff that sailors are made of," was the rather disheartening rejoinder. "I didn't think you could stand the racket."

"Is it a hard life?"

"Well, it aint an easy one – not by no means."

"Then why don't you quit it and go at something else?"

"Me? O, I can't. There's nothing else I could do. I have been to sea ever since I was eight years old, and I am now seventeen."

"You ought to be a first-class sailor," said Tony.

"I can hand, reef and steer as well as the rest of them, if that's what you mean," replied the young sailor, rather proudly. "I am an able seaman, and I should think I had ought to be. I made three voyages as second mate of a little coaster."

"Are you an officer of this ship?" inquired Tony.

"This aint a ship, you lubber. She's a brig." "You see," he added, in a little milder tone, "a ship has three masts, and this has only two. No, I am not an officer. I always have to go before the mast on long voyages, such as the one we have just made, but then I like them better than I do short ones. If you have got any book-learning you might get to be an officer in a few years. If you want to ship I know where there is a chance for you."

"Do you?" exclaimed Tony, eagerly. "I am ever so much obliged to you for telling me of it. I do want to ship."

"All right! Come on. There's a berth for somebody aboard my old vessel, the Princeton," said the young sailor, as he and Tony sprang out upon the wharf. "She's the one I was second mate of, you know. I was down there this morning, and the old man told me, if I heard anybody say he wanted to ship, to send him along; but I guess I had better go with you, for you might not be able to find her. If the captain takes you, you will have the same berth I did when I first went to sea."

"What was it?" asked Tony.

"Jemmy Ducks!"

"I don't understand you. Who's Jemmy Ducks?"

"Well, he's a sort of lackey to everybody. He has to keep the cabin in order, help the cook, and haul at the sheets; and he works for kicks instead of ha'pence."

"Kicks!" exclaimed Tony. "Who'll kick me?"

"All hands and the cook. But, bless you, that won't hurt you. It only makes you tough and waterproof. The only way is to work hard; keep still, and say nothing to nobody till your time comes, and then let him have it, good and strong."

"Let who have it?"

"Why, if you tend to your business straight and square you'll get ahead, of course; and then you'll go for the fellow that takes your place."

"Must I kick somebody who has never done me any harm, simply because somebody else has kicked me?" cried Tony.

"If you want to get square, that's the only way you can do it," said his new friend, indifferently.

If Tony had never known before, that it will not do to put implicit faith in everything one reads in books, he knew it now. In his favorite sea-novels there was no mention made of the hardships of a sailor's life, and the cruelties that are practised upon him. His existence was described as one of ease and pleasure. Of course there were wrecks, and fights with pirates and mutinous crews; but the typical sailor, who was always loyal to his captain, rather enjoyed such things as these, for they served to break the monotony of long voyages, and gave him opportunity to show his skill and courage, and win a reward. The constant annoyances and punishments to which a foremast hand is sometimes subjected, were never spoken of; but Tony's new friend referred to them as though they were matters of everyday occurrence. The runaway found that they were, too. He began to believe that he had made a mistake, and while he was informing himself of the fact, his companion led him down to a pier and across to a little schooner that lay on the opposite side. This was the Princeton – an ill-looking craft to bear so dignified a name. She was not more than half as large as the brig to which Tony's new acquaintance belonged, and neither did her deck present the same scene of neatness and order.

"She's bound for Rio, so the old man told me this morning; and on the way, she's going to stop at Havana," said the young sailor, as he and Tony fell in behind a couple of longshoremen, who were rolling a heavy cask down the gang-plank.

"To Rio Janeiro!" exclaimed Tony. "Why, that's in Brazil. This little brig can't go there."

"This is a schooner," replied the young sailor, with some contempt in his tones.

"She has two masts, just like yours."

"She's got two masts, I know, but she ain't like my vessel. Can't you see that she is a fore-and-after, while mine is square rigged?"

This was all Greek to Tony, who could only gaze about the vessel and look bewildered.

"Avast, there!" suddenly cried his companion, seizing him by the arm and pulling him away from an open hatch, into which he would have walked in a moment more. "Don't fall into the hold and break your neck before you sign articles. Say, captain," he added, as he and Tony approached a short, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, who had just ascended the companion-ladder. "You told me this morning, that you wanted a cabin-boy. How do you like the looks of this fellow?"

The captain run his eyes over Tony's face and figure, took one or two pulls at his pipe, and said in a hoarse voice:

"He looks well enough, but can he do anything?"

"Nary thing," replied the young sailor, with refreshing candor. "Can't you see for yourself that his mouth is always gaping like a contribution box for dimes? He don't know a schooner from a brig. You'll have to break him in."

CHAPTER XIII
ON BOARD THE PRINCETON

The captain gave Tony another good looking over, after which he took his pipe out of his mouth long enough to say "Humph!" Then he put it back again.

"Oh, he can make up the bunks and sweep the cabin and help the doctor, if he don't know the ropes," exclaimed the sailor, who thought he ought to say a good word for Tony, seeing that the latter did not know enough to say it for himself. "You can do that, can't you, shipmate?"

"No, I can't," answered Tony. "I don't know anything about medicine; I can't help the doctor."

The young sailor stared at the captain, and the captain looked hard at Tony. Then they both looked up at the main top-mast, and broke out into loud peals of laughter. After that the skipper also swore a good-natured oath, and asked Tony where he lived.

"In St. Louis," was the reply.

"Why didn't you stay there?"

"Because I didn't want to. I would like to see something of the world, and earn a living at the same time."

"All right; I'll take you."

"At how much a month, captain?" asked the sailor.

"Eight dollars," replied the skipper.

"That's settled," said the sailor. "Have you got any money? You want an outfit – some bedding and clothes that will do to work in."

"Oh, yes, I've got enough for that," replied Tony.

"Then let's go ashore, and I'll show you where to get them. I am my own master to-day, for we shan't begin to break cargo until to-morrow. When do you sail, captain?"

"About four o'clock. Look here, Bradley, I'll leave that greenhorn in your charge, and I want you to bring him back as soon as you can. And you, Abraham," added the skipper, looking at the runaway.

"I am Anthony Richardson," replied the owner of that name. "Tony, for short."

"Well, Tony, when you come back, report to the doctor."

As the boy was about turning away without making any reply, the captain called sharply after him.

"Did you hear me?" he demanded.

"Say 'ay, ay, sir!'" whispered Bradley, giving the runaway a prod in the ribs with his elbow.

Tony gave the required response, and the captain continued:

"Hereafter keep your ears open, and remember your manners."

"You had better bear that in mind," said Bradley, when he and Tony were once more ashore. "Whenever an officer gives you an order, say 'ay, ay, sir!' and don't waste any time about it, either."

"It hurts me to be obliged to show so much respect to such a fellow as that captain is," replied Tony. "I have had better men than he say 'sir' to me."

"That's what I thought," said Bradley; "and them are the fellows that you had ought to have stayed with. But that's all over now. The respect that's paid to a man on board ship don't depend upon the position he holds ashore, and you'll find it out. An able seaman who hasn't got a cent to his name, is worth more in a gale of wind than a landsman with a million dollars in his pocket."

"I suppose that's so," said Tony, with a sigh. "I suppose, too, that I shall be hauled over the coals a good many times before I know just what is required of me. But, Bradley, I can't be of any use to the doctor."

"Yes, you can. The doctor is the cook."

"O!" exclaimed Tony. "I understand. But what makes the old man so cross?"

"He ain't cross; it's only just his way. You won't have any trouble with him to speak of, if you only do your duty up to the handle. But there's one man there that you had better look out for. He's the captain's pet; and pets on shipboard are a nuisance."

"I'll not have anything to do with him, if you will tell me who he is," said Tony.

"You can't help yourself. He's the first mate. Now, I'll tell you, as near as I can, just what you will have to do, and the better you do it, the less trouble you'll get into."

Bradley then went on to describe the duties that were imposed upon himself when he first went to sea, and told of a good many difficulties he had fallen into, which he could have avoided if he had had a friend at the start to point them out to him. Tony listened with all his ears, and treasured everything up in his memory. Bradley told him what he had to expect in pretty plain language, and it was a wonder that Tony's courage did not give way altogether.

"If a sailor has to work so hard, what is there in the life that is so fascinating?" said he. "What is there about it that is pleasant?" he added, as Bradley turned toward him with an inquiring look.

"There's nothing about it that I ever heard of that is pleasant for poor Jack," was the reply. "Some of us like it, in spite of the hard work and harder fare, but the most of the men who are before the mast to-day are looking forward to the time when they can quit the sea and settle down on shore. It's the captains that have the bully times. If you could see the master of a fine ship come out of his cabin of a pleasant afternoon, when the wind is fair and everything draws, and sit down on his quarter-deck and smoke his cigar, you would say that he was the happiest man in the world. Those old fellows are happy, and some of them are rich, too. Let's go in here and see what we can find that is worth looking at."

So saying, Bradley led the way into a cheap clothing store near the levee, in which were to be found all articles of necessity and luxury required by sea-faring men; at least that was what the advertisement in the window said. If Tony had been left to himself he would not have known what to ask for; but Bradley selected the articles for him, and he went about it as though he understood it. Having purchased a good many outfits for himself, he knew almost to a penny what a shirt or a hat was worth, and setting his own price upon it, told the shop-keeper that he could take it or leave it alone – just as he pleased. The consequence was that he got the outfit for much less money than Tony would have been obliged to pay for the same articles. It was not a very extensive one, but Bradley assured him that it would answer until he could earn money enough to add to it. When everything had been paid for, the clothes were put into a canvas-bag, the mattrass was wrapped up in a pair of blankets, and each boy shouldered a bundle and set out to return to the Princeton. Tony's money had not much more than paid his expenses, for he had only fifteen dollars left.

Arriving at the Princeton, Bradley led the way at once into the forecastle, and throwing his bundle into the only empty bunk he found there, laughed heartily at the expression of blank amazement he saw on Tony's face. The latter had read much of the forecastle, and now he saw one for the first time. He could hardly bring himself to believe, that eight men could stow themselves away there. It was very small and dark, and pervaded by an odor that Tony did not like.

"It's mostly tobacco smoke," said Bradley, "and there's a little tar, slush and bilge-water mixed up with it. It's nothing when you get used to it."

"But I don't see how I can stand it," said Tony, heaving a deep sigh as he thought of his pleasant, little room at Kirkwood, with its neat writing-desk, well-filled bookcase and easy chairs. "I have been used to better things at home."

"Yes, I thought so, when I first slapped my peepers onto you," said Bradley, "and there's where you ought to have stayed. But since you are bent on snuffing salt water, it may comfort you to know, that better men than you have lived in just such places as this; and that some of those same men are now masters of our finest ships – East Indiamen, mail steamers and crafts like them. The only way to make a sailor out of a fellow is, to shove him in at the hawse-hole, and let him work his way aft, without help from anybody."

While the young sailor was speaking, he was busy making up Tony's bed in the empty bunk, which was in the lower tier and in the darkest corner of the forecastle. This work took up scarcely two minutes of his time, for all he had to do, was to put the mattrass in and spread the blankets over it.

"There you are," said he, when he had finished his task. "Now when you are ready to turn in, you can use your clothes-bag for a pillow. Is there anything more I can do for you?"

"I don't think of anything," answered Tony. "I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered me."

"Belay that," said Bradley, hastily. "It's all right. If I was going with you, I could give you a hint now and then that would be of use to you."

"Why can't you go?" exclaimed Tony.

"Because the crew is all shipped – the bedding in these bunks shows that – and I am not yet discharged from the brig. I want my money before I leave her, and I don't know when I shall get it. It depends upon the work there is to be done. Good-by! Who knows but you and I may some day reef a top-sail together in a gale of wind? Now, pull off those shore duds, and put on one of the suits I bought for you. When you have done that, go on deck and report to the doctor, as the old man told you to do."

Bradley, having shaken hands with the runaway, mounted the ladder that led to the deck; while Tony, remembering that his new friend had told him that promptness in obeying orders, was of the utmost importance on ship-board, made all haste to pull off his fine clothes and put on one of his new suits. He was very lonely now that Bradley was gone, and for the first time since leaving St. Louis, he began to be homesick.

"I am really afraid I have made a mistake," thought he, as he packed his clothes carefully away in his bag. "Now, that I have got out into the world, I find that it doesn't look just as I thought it would. Instead of being my own master, as I supposed I should be, it seems that I shall have more people to rule me than I ever had before. I don't much like the idea of being ordered around by such a fellow as that captain; and then there's the cook. What if he should happen to be a darkey?"

Having prepared himself for work, Tony went on deck and made his way toward the cabin, intending to ask the skipper where he should go to find the cook, an idea which, if it had been carried out, would have got him into trouble immediately. But, fortunately for him, he learned what he wanted to know without making any inquiries of the captain. Passing a little house on deck, he looked into it, and saw a negro banging the pots and kettles about. There was a stove in it, and preparations for dinner were going on. Tony's heart sank within him. This was the galley, and beyond a doubt the man before him was the cook.

"Perhaps it would be well to show him at the start that I shall stand no nonsense from him," thought Tony, as he leaned his arms on the window sill, and looked into the galley. "Well, Snowball," said he, "is there anything I can do for you?"

"Who is you?" demanded the negro, plunging a long-handled fork into one of the kettles on the stove.

"I am the cabin boy, and the old man told me to report to you," replied Tony.

The cook turned upon him like a flash when he heard this. "Look heah, chile," he exclaimed, shaking the fork at Tony. "If you use any mo' sich onrespecful language as Snowball to me agin, I chuck you in de ribber. Dar can't no white trash like you talk dat ar way to me. Bring your lazy bones in here, an' take dat knife an' peel dem taters."

Tony again thought of the advice Bradley had given him while they were on their way to the clothing store, and what was more he was wise enough to act upon it. He had been told that he must never answer back, no matter how savagely he might be addressed. If he did that, he would have everybody in the schooner down on him, and then his life would be a hard one indeed. There were a thousand ways in which a sailor could bother a landsman, and the only way in which he could escape being made a victim of their malice, was to do cheerfully and willingly whatever he was told to do.

"I feel very cheerful just now, don't I?" thought Tony, as he walked into the galley, and began the work that had been assigned to him. "What would my father say if he could see me at this moment? I don't think it is quite safe to fool with that cook, for he looks to me like a man who would chuck a fellow over the side in a minute if he got mad at him. Say, doctor," he added, suddenly, knowing that if he wanted to keep up his spirits he must not give away to his gloomy thoughts, "I want to tell you – "

"I is Mr. Sands, I is," interrupted the cook.

All the rest of the crew aroused his ire every hour in the day by calling him some name he did not like, and he was determined that the cabin boy, the only person on board over whom he had any authority, should treat him with due respect.