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 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
 SOCIETIES 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hi 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/charliecodmanscrOalge 
 
CHARLIE CODMAN'S 
 CRUISE 
 
 OR 
 
 A YOUNG SAILOR'S PLUCK. 
 
 By 
 HORATIO ALGER, Jr. 
 
 Author of "Adrift in New York," "Hector's Inheritance/ 
 
 "The Erie Train Boy," and over fifty more of the 
 
 best stories for boys ever written. 
 
 
 CHICAGO 
 M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 T. Charlie and the Miser 5 
 
 II. A Miser's Household 13 
 
 III. The Unwelcome Visitor 20 
 
 IV. A Startling Question 27 
 
 V. The Compact with Eandall 34 
 
 VI. Charlie at Home 43 
 
 VII. Captain Brace 49 
 
 /III. The Elue Chest 55 
 
 IX. On Board 61 
 
 X. Charlie in a Tight Place 67 
 
 XL Off to Sea 74 
 
 XII. Landlord and Tenant 80 
 
 XIII. Clouds and Sunshine 89 
 
 XLV. Bertha Bowman 95 
 
 XV Mrs. Codman 's Good Fortune 101 
 
 XVI. Charlie Codman ! s Sea Life 107 
 
 XVII. The Eival Champions 113 
 
 XVIII. Antonio's Eesolve 119 
 
 •XIX. Charlie's Land Yarn 125 
 
 XX. Bill Sturdy 's Story 131 
 
 XXL The Pirate Ship 137 
 
 XXII. How to Escape from a Pirate 143 
 
 £XIII. Antonio's Plot 149 
 
 '1:74 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 XXIV. Charlie Gets into Trouble 155 
 
 XXV. The Real Culprit Discovered 160 
 
 XXVI. A Storm Brewing 166 
 
 XXVII. The Lash 172 
 
 XXVIII. Two Conferences 179 
 
 XXIX. Danger Threatens Bill Sturdy 185 
 
 XXX. The Pass of Death 191 
 
 XXXI. Charlie's Escape 196 
 
 XXXII. First Lessons 203 
 
 XXXIII. A Letter from Charlie 208 
 
 XXXIV. The Return of the "Betsy" 215 
 
 XXXV. Charlie Turns up Unexpectedly 220 
 
 XXXVI. Charlie Comes into His Fortune 227 
 
 XXXVII. Reunited at Last 235 
 
 KXXVIII. Reaching Port 240 
 
CHAELEY CODMAFS CKUISE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHARLIE AND THE MISER. 
 
 Charlie Codman turned out of Washington into Bed- 
 ford Street just as the clock in the Old South steeple 
 struck two. He was about fourteen, a handsome, well- 
 made boy, with a bright eye and a manly expression. 
 But he was poor. That was evident enough from his 
 clothes, which, though neat and free from dust, were 
 patched in several places. He had a small roll of daily 
 papers under his arm, the remains of his stock in trade, 
 which he had been unable wholly to dispose of. 
 
 Some of my readers may know that the Latin School 
 and English High School are kept in the same building. 
 At two o'clock both are dismissed. Charlie had scarcely 
 passed the school-house, when a crowd of boys issued from 
 the school-yard, and he heard his name called from behind. 
 Looking back, he recognized a boy somewhat smaller than 
 himself, with whom he had formed an acquaintance some 
 time before. 
 
 5 
 
6 Charlie and the Miser. 
 
 "Where are you bound, Charlie?" asked Edwin Banks. 
 
 "I'm going home now." 
 
 "What luck have you had this morning?" 
 
 "Not much, I've got four papers left over, and that will 
 take away about all my profits." 
 
 "What a pity you are poor, Charlie. I wish you could 
 come to school with us." 
 
 "So do I, Eddie. I'd give g good deal to get an educa- 
 tion, but I feel that I ought to help mother." 
 
 "Why won't you come some time, and see us, Charlie? 
 Clara and myself would be very glad to see you at any 
 time." 
 
 "I should like to go," said Charlie, "but I don't look 
 fit." 
 
 "Oh, never mind about your clothes. I like you just 
 as well as if you were dressed in style." 
 
 "Perhaps I'll come some time," said Charlie. "I'd invite 
 you to come and see me, but we live in a poor place." 
 
 "Just as if I should care for that. I will come whenever 
 I get an invitation. 
 
 Then come next Saturday afternoon. I will be waiting 
 for you as you come out of school." 
 
 Charlie little thought where he would be when Saturday 
 came. 
 
 Shortly after that the boys separated, and Charlie's 
 attention was arrested by the sight of an old man with a 
 Gambling ■'•nit, who was bending over and anxiously 
 
Charlie and the Miser. U 
 
 searching for something on the sidewalk. Charlie recog- 
 niged him at once as "old Manson, the miser/' for this was 
 the name hy which he generally went. 
 
 Old Peter Manson was not more than fifty-five, but he 
 looked from fifteen to twenty years older. If his body had 
 been properly cared for, it would have been different; but, 
 one by one, its functions had been blunted and destroyed, 
 and it had become old and out of repair. Peter's face was 
 plowed with wrinkles. His cheeks were thin, and the skin 
 was yellow and hung in folds. His beard appeared to have 
 received little or no attention for a week, at least, and was 
 now stiff and bristling. 
 
 The miser's dress was not very well fitted to his form. 
 It was in the fashion of twenty years before. He wore 
 grayish trousers, patched in divers places with dark elotk 
 by an unskilful hand; a vest from which the buttons had 
 long since departed, and which wa3 looped together by- 
 pieces of string, but not closely enough to conceal a dirty 
 and tattered shirt beneath; a coat in the last stages of 
 shabbiness ; while over all hung a faded blue cloak, which 
 Peter wore in all weathers. In the sultriest days of August 
 he might have been seen trudging along in this old mantle, 
 which did him the good service of hiding a multitude of 
 holes and patches, while in January he went no warmer 
 clad There were some who wondered how he could stand 
 tlie bitter cold of winter with no more adequate covering, 
 tut if Peter's body was as tough as his conscience, tltere 
 fras no fear of his suffering. 
 
6 Charlie and the Miser. 
 
 Charlie paused a moment to see what it was that the 
 old man was hunting for. 
 
 "Have you lost anything?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes/' said Peter, in quavering accents. "See if you 
 can find it, that's a good boy. Your eyes are better than 
 mine." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "It is some money, and I — I'm so poor, I can't afford to 
 lose it." 
 
 "How much was it?" 
 
 "It wasn't much, but I'm so poor I need it." 
 
 Charlie espied a cent, lying partially concealed by mud, 
 just beside the curb-stone. He picked it up. 
 
 "This isn't what you lost, is it ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Peter, seizing it eagerly. "You're a good 
 boy to find it. A good boy !" 
 
 "Well," thought Charlie, wondering, as the old man 
 hobbled off with his recovered treasure, "I'd rather be poor 
 than care so much for money as that. People say old 
 Peter's worth his thousands. I wonder whether it is so." 
 
 Charlie little dreamed how much old Peter was likely 
 to influence his destiny, and how, at his instigation, before 
 a week had passed over his head, he would find himself in 
 a very disagreeable situation. 
 
 With his eyes fixed on the ground Peter shuffled along, 
 making more rapid progress than could have been ex- 
 pected. Occasionally he would stoop down and pick up 
 any little stray object which arrested his attention, even 
 
Charlie and the Miser. 9 
 
 to .. ^rooiced pin, which he thrust into his cloak, x~ uttering 
 as he did so: 
 
 "Save my buying any. I haven't had to buy any pins 
 for more'n ten years, and I don't mean to buy any more 
 while I live. Ha ! ha ! Folks are so extravagant ! They 
 buy things they don't need, or that they might pick up, if 
 they'd only take the trouble to keep their eyes open. 
 'Tisn't so with old Peter. He's too cunning for that. 
 There goes a young fellow dressed up in the fashion. 
 What he's got on must have cost nigh on to a hundred 
 dollars. 
 
 "What dreadful extravagance ! Ha ! ha ! It hasn't cost 
 old Peter twenty dollars for the last ten years. If he had 
 spent money as some do, he might have been in the poor- 
 house by this time. Ugh ! ugh ! it costs a dreadful sum to 
 live. If we could only come into the world with natural 
 clothes, like cats, what a deal better it would be. But it 
 costs the most for food. Oh, dear ! what a dreadful appe- 
 tite I've got, and I must eat. All the money spent for 
 victuals seems thrown away. I've a good mind, sometimes, 
 to go to the poor-house, where it wouldn't cost me anything. 
 What a blessing it would be to eat, if you could only 
 get food for nothing." 
 
 It is very clear that Peter would have been far better 
 off, as far as the comforts of life are concerned, in the city 
 almshouse ; but there were some little obstacles in the way 
 of his entering. For instance, it would scarcely have been 
 allowed a public pensioner to go round Quarterly to 
 
10 Charlie and the Miser. 
 
 collect his rents — a thing which Peter would hardly have 
 relinquished. 
 
 ^Reflections upon the cost of living brought to Peter's 
 recollection that he had nothing home for supper. He 
 accordingly stepped into a baker's shop close at hand. 
 
 "Have you got any bread cheap?" he inquired o£ the 
 baker. 
 
 "We intend to sell at moderate prices." 
 
 "What do you ask for those loaves?*' said the old man, 
 looking wistfully at some fresh loaves piled upon the 
 counter, which had been but a short time out of the oven. 
 
 "Five cents a piece," said the baker. "I'll warrant you 
 will find them good. They are made of the best of flour/' 
 
 "Isn't five cents rather dear?" queried Peter, his natural 
 appetite struggling with his avarice. 
 
 "Dear !" retorted the baker, opening his eyes in aston- 
 ishment; "why, my good sir. at what price do you expeot 
 to buy bread?" 
 
 "I've no doubt they're very good," said Peter hastily; 
 "but have you any stale loaves? I guess they'll be better 
 for me." 
 
 "Yes," said the baker, "I believe I have, but they're aofe 
 as good as the fresh bread." 
 
 "How do you sell your stale loaves?" inquired Peter, 
 fumbling in his pocket for some change. 
 
 "I sell them for about half-price — three cents a piece* 
 
 "You mftv ifive, me one ? then; I guess it'll be better C<* 
 
Charlie and the Miser. 11 
 
 Even Peter was a little ashamed to acknowledge that it 
 was the price alone which influenced his choice. 
 
 The baker observed that, notwithstanding his decision, 
 he continued to look wistfully toward the fresh bread. 
 Never having seen old Peter before, he was unacquainted 
 ■with his character, and, judging from his dilapidated ap- 
 pearance that he might be prevented, by actual poverty, 
 from buying the fresh bread, exclaimed with a sudden 
 impulse: "You seem to be poor. If you only want one 
 loaf I will for this once give you a fresh loaf for three 
 cents — the same price I ask for the stale bread." 
 
 -Will you ?" 
 
 Old Peter's eyes sparkled with eagerness as he said this. 
 
 "Poor man !" thought the baker, with mistaken com- 
 passion; "he must indeed be needy, to be so pleased." 
 
 "Yes," he continued, "you shall have a loaf this once 
 ier three cents. Shall I put it in a paper for you ?" 
 
 Peter nodded. 
 
 Meanwhile he was busy fumbling in his pockets for the 
 coins requisite to purchase the loaf. He drew out three 
 'battered cents, and deposited them with reluctant hand 
 en the counter. He gazed on them wistfully while the 
 l&aker carelessly swept them with his hand into the till 
 leehind the counter; and then, with a sigh of resignation 
 at parting with the coins, seized the loaf and shambled out 
 into the street. 
 
 He put the bundle under his arm, and hastened up I s 
 
Charlie and the Miser. 
 
 Street, his mouth watering in anticipation of the feast 
 which awaited him. 
 
 The haker was congratulating himself upon having done 
 a charitable action, when Peter came back in haste, pale 
 with fright. 
 
 "I — I " he stammered, "must have dropped some 
 
 money. You haven't picked up an)^ have you?" 
 
 "Not I !" said the baker carelessly. "If you dropped it 
 here you will find it somewhere on the floor. Stay, I will 
 assist you." 
 
 Peter seemed rather disconcerted than otherwise by this 
 offer of assistance, but could not reasonably interpose any 
 objection. 
 
 After a very brief search Peter and the baker simul- 
 taneously discovered the missing coin. The former 
 pounced upon it, but not before the latter had recognized 
 it as a gold piece. 
 
 "Ho, ho !" thought he, in surprise, "my charity is not so 
 well bestowed as I thought. Do you have many such 
 coins?" he asked meaningly. 
 
 "I ?" said Peter hastily. "Oh, no ! I am very poor. 
 This is all I have, and I expect it will be gone soon — it 
 costs so much to live!" 
 
 "It'll never cost you much," thought the baker, watching 
 the shabby figure of the miser as he receded from the shop. 
 
CHAPTEK II. 
 
 a miser's household. 
 
 Peter Manson owned a small house in an obscure street, 
 It was a weather-beaten tenement of wood, containing 
 some six or eight rooms, all of which, with one excep 
 were given over to dirt, cobwebs, gloom, and desolation. 
 Peter might readily have let the rooms which he did not 
 require for his own use, but so profound was his distrust 
 of human nature that not even the prospect of receiving 
 rent for the empty rooms could overcome his apprehen- 
 sion of being robbed by neighbors under the same roof. 
 For Peter trusted not his money to banks or railroads, but 
 wanted to have it directly under his own eye or within his 
 reach. As for investing his gold in the luxuries of life, 
 or even in what were generally considered as absolute neces- 
 saries, Peter was no such fool as that. A gold eagle was 
 worth ten times more to him than its equivalent in food or. 
 clothing. 
 
 With more than his usual alacrity, old Peter Manson, 
 bearing under his cloak the fresh loaf which he had just 
 procured from the baker on such advantageous terms, 
 hastened to his not very inviting home. 
 
 Drawing from Ms pocket a large and rusty door-key, he 
 13 
 
14 A Miser's Household. 
 
 applied it to the door. It turned in the lock with a creak- 
 ing sound, and the door yielding to Peter's push, he 
 entered. 
 
 The room which he appropriated to his own use was ia 
 fc] »cond story. It was a large room, of some eighteen 
 feet square, and, as it is hardly necessary to say, was not 
 set off by expensive furniture. The articles which came 
 under this denomination were hriefiy these : a cherry table 
 which was minus one leg, whose place had been supplied 
 by a broom-handle fitted in its place; three hard woodea 
 chairs of unknown antiquity; an old wash-stand; a rusty 
 stove which Peter had picked up cheap at an auction, after 
 finding that a stove burned out less fuel than a fireplace; a 
 few articles of crockery of different patterns, some cracked 
 and broken ; a few tin dishes, such as Peter found essential 
 in his cooking; and a low bedstead with a scanty supply of 
 bedclothes. 
 
 Into this desolate home Peter entered. 
 
 There was an ember or two left in the stove, whiea 
 the old man contrived, by hard blowing, to kindle into life. 
 On these he placed a few sticks, part of which he had picked 
 up in the street early in the morning, and soon there was 
 a little show of fire, over which the miser spread his hands 
 greedily as if to monopolize what little heat might proceed 
 therefrom. He looked wistfully at the pile of wood remain- 
 ing, but prudence withheld him from putting on any more. 
 
 "Everything costs money,'' he muttered to himself. 
 "Three times a day I have to eat, and that costs a sight. 
 
A Miser's Household, 15 
 
 "Why couldn't we get along with eating once a day? That 
 ■would save two-thirds. Then there's fire. That costs 
 money, too. Why isn't it always summer? Then we 
 shouldn't need any except to cook by. It seems a sin to 
 throw away good, bright, precious gold on what's going to 
 b* burnt up and float away in smoke. One might almost 
 a& well throw it into the river at once. Ugh ! only to think 
 ©f what it would cost if I couldn't pick up some sticks 
 in the street. There was a little girl picking up some this 
 morning when I was out. If it hadn't been for her, I 
 should have got more. What business had she to come 
 there, I should like to know? 
 
 "Ugh, ugh!'' 
 
 The blaze was dying out, and Peter was obliged, again st 
 hh will, to put on a fresh supply of fuel. 
 
 By this time the miser's appetite began to assert itself, 
 and, rising from his crouching position over the fire, he 
 walked to the table on which he had deposited his loaf of 
 feread. With an old jack-knife he carefully cut the loaf in 
 two equal parts. One of these he put back into the closet. 
 From the same place he also brought out a sausage, and, 
 placing it over the fire, contrived to cook it after a fashion. 
 Taking it off he placed it on a plate, and seated himself 
 ©n n chair by the table. 
 
 It was long since the old man, accustomed to stale 
 hread — because he found it cheaper — had tasted ar- 
 so delicious. 
 
 he muttered, with a sigh of satkfac- 
 
16 A Miser's Household. 
 
 tion. "I don't fare so well every day. If it hadn't beeu 
 for that unlucky piece of gold, perhaps the baker would 
 have let me had another loaf at the same price." 
 
 He soon despatched the half-loaf which he allotted to 
 his evening meal. 
 
 "I think I could eat the other half/' he said, with unsat- 
 isfied hunger; "but I must save that for breakfast. It is 
 hurtful to eat too much. Besides, here is my sausage." 
 
 The sausage was rather burned than cooked, but Peter 
 was neither nice nor fastidious. He did not eat the whole 
 of the sausage, however, but reserved one-half of this, too, 
 for breakfast, though it proved so acceptable to his palate 
 that he came near yielding to the temptation of eating the 
 whole. But prudence, or rather avarice, prevailed, and, 
 shaking his head with renewed determination, he carried 
 it to the closet and placed it on the shelf. 
 
 Between seven and eight o'clock Peter prepared to go 
 to bed, partly because this would enable him to dispense 
 with a fire, the cost of which he considered so ruinous. 
 He had but just commenced his preparations for bed when 
 a loud knock was heard at the street door. 
 
 At the first sound of the knocking Peter Manson started 
 in affright. Such a thing had not occurred in his expe- 
 rience for years. 
 
 "It's some drunken fellow," thought Peter. "He's mis- 
 taken the house. I'll blow out the candle, and then he'll 
 think there's nobody here." 
 
 He listened again, in hopes to hear the receding steps 
 
A Miser's Household. 17 
 
 of the visitor, but in vain. After a brief interval there 
 came another knock, louder and more imperative than the 
 first. 
 
 Peter began to feel a little uneasy. 
 
 "Why don't he go?" he muttered peevishly. "He can't 
 have anything to do with me. Nobody ever comes here. 
 He's mistaken the house." 
 
 His reflections were here interrupted by a volley of 
 knocks, each apparently louder than the last. 
 
 "Oh, dear, what shall I do?" exclaimed the miser, with 
 a ludicrous mixture of terror and perplexity. "It's some 
 desperate ruffian, I know it is. I wish the police would 
 come. I shall be robbed and murdered." 
 
 Peter went to the window and put his head out, hoping 
 to discover something of his troublesome visitor. The noise 
 of opening the window attracted his attention. 
 
 "Hello!" he shouted. "I thought I'd make you hear 
 some time or other. I began to think you were as deaf as 
 a post, or else had kicked the bucket." 
 
 "Who's there ?" asked Peter, in a quavering voice. 
 
 "Who's there ! Come down and see, and don't leave a 
 fellow to hammer away all night at your old rat-trap. 
 Come down and open the door." 
 
 "This ain't the house," said Peter. "You've made a 
 mistake. Nobody ever comes here." 
 
 "No more I should think they would, if you always keep 
 'em waiting as long as you have me. Come along down 
 and let me in." 
 
18 A Miser's Household. 
 
 "But I teu vou," persisted Peter, who didn ; t at all like 
 the visitor's manners, "that you've made a mistake. This 
 ain't the house." 
 
 "Ain't what house, I'd like to know ?" 
 
 "It ain't the house you think it is," said the old man, 
 e little puzzled by this epiestion. 
 
 "'And what house do I think it is? Tell me that, you 
 old " 
 
 Probahly the sentence would have been finished in a 
 manner uncomplimentary to Peter, but perhaps, from mo- 
 tives of policy, the stranger suppressed what he had 
 intended to say. 
 
 "I don't know," returned Peter, at a loss for a reply, 
 "but there's a mistake somewhere. Nobody comes to see 
 me." 
 
 "I shouldn't think they would," muttered the outsider, 
 "but evei-y rule has its exceptions, and somebody's come to 
 eee you now."' 
 
 "You've mistaken the person." 
 
 "No, 1 haven't. Little chance of making a mistake. 
 'You're old Peter Manson." 
 
 "lie has come to see me," thought Peter uneasily: '"but 
 it can : any good end. I won't let him in; no, I 
 
 ■won't let liim in." 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked his 
 Would-be visitor impatiently. 
 
 "It's te to see you to-night." 
 
 "Fiddlestick!" retorted the other, "It isn't eight yet." 
 
A Miser's Household. ly 
 
 ''•; i added Peter, becoming morr' en« 
 
 tarily more uneasy at the man's obstinacy. 
 
 "Going to bed at half-past seven! Come, now, that's 
 all a joke. You don't take me for a fool !" 
 
 "But I am," urged Peter; "I always do. I'm very 
 and can't afford to keep a fire and light going all the 
 evening." 
 
 "You poor! Well, maybe you are. But that ain't 
 neither here nor there. I have got some important busi- 
 ness to see you about, and you must let me in. 7 ' 
 
 "Come to-morrow." 
 
 "It's no use; I must see you to-night. So just come 
 down and let me in, or it'll be the worse for you." 
 
 "What a dreadful ruffian !" groaned Peter. "I wish a 
 policeman would come along, but he never does when 1 s'a 
 wanted. Go away, good man," he said, in a wheedling 
 tone. "Go away, and come again to-morrow." 
 
 "I tell you I won't go away. I must see you to-night." 
 
 Convinced that the man was not to be denied, Peter, 
 groaning with fear, went down, and, reluctantly drawing 
 the bolt, admitted the visitor. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE UNWELCOME VISITOR. 
 
 Opening the door with trembling hand, Peter Mansoa 
 saw before him a stout man of forty-five, with a complexion 
 bronzed by exposure to the elements. 
 
 Short and thick-set, with a half-defiant expression, as if, 
 to use a common phrase, he "feared neither man nor 
 devil," a glance at him served hardly to reassure the 
 apprehensive old man. 
 
 The stranger was attired in a suit of coarse clothing, 
 and appeared to possess little education or refinement. 
 He might be a sailor — there was an indefinable something 
 about him, a certain air of the sea, that justified the sus- 
 picion that he had passed some part of his life, at least, 
 in the realms of Father Neptune. 
 
 Peter Manson, holding in his hand the fragment of 
 candle which flickered wildly from the sudden gust of 
 wind which rushed in at the door just opened, stood in 
 silent apprehension, gazing uneasily at his unwelcome 
 visitor. 
 
 "Well, shipmate," said the latter impatiently, "how long 
 are you going to stand staring at me? It makes me feel 
 bashful, not to speak of its not being over and above civil." 
 
 "What do vou want?" inquired Peter, his alarm a little 
 20 
 
The Unwelcome Visitor. 21 
 
 increased by this speech, making, at the same cime, a 
 motion as if to close the door. 
 
 "First and foremost, I should like to be invited in some- 
 where, where it isn't quite so public as at the street door. 
 My business is of a private nature." 
 
 "I don't know you," said the miser uneasily. 
 
 "Well, what's the odds if I know you ?" was the careless 
 reply. "Come, push ahead. Where do you live? Up- 
 stairs, or down-stairs ? I want to have a little private talk 
 with you somewhere." 
 
 The speaker was about to cross the threshold, when 
 Peter stepped in front, as if to intercept him, and said 
 hurriedly: "Don't come in to-night; to-morrow will do 
 just as well." 
 
 "By your leave," said the visitor coolly, pushing his way 
 in in spite of the old man's feeble opposition. "I have 
 already told you that I wanted to see you to-night. Didn't 
 you hear me ?" 
 
 "Thieves !" the old man half-ejaculated, but was checked 
 by the other somewhat sternly. 
 
 "No, old man, I am not a thief; but if you don't have 
 done with your stupid charges, I may be tempted to verify 
 your good opinion by trying my hand at a little robbery. 
 Now, lead the way to your den, wherever it is, if you know 
 what is best for yourself." 
 
 The outer door was already closed, and Peter felt that he 
 was at his intruder's mercy. Nevertheless, there was some- 
 thing in this last speech, rough and imperative as it was, 
 
22 The Unwelcome Visitor. 
 
 that gave him a little feeling of security, so far as he had 
 loeen led to suspect any designs on his property on the part 
 ©f his companion. 
 
 Without venturing upon any further remonstrance, 
 which, it was clear, would prove altogether useless, he 
 shuffled up-stairs, in obedience to the stranger's command, 
 yet not without casting hack over Ms shoulder a look of 
 apprehension, as if he feared an attack from behind. 
 
 His visitor, perceiving this, smiled, as if amused at old 
 Peter's evident alarm. 
 
 Arrived at the head of the stairs, Peter opened the door 
 into the apartment appropriated to his own use. 
 
 The stranger followed him in, and, after a leisurely 
 glance about the room, seated himself with some caution 
 in a chair, which did not look very secure. 
 
 Peter placed the flickering candle upon the mantel-piece 
 and seated himself. 
 
 It was long, very long, since a visitor had wakened the 
 echoes of the old house ; very long since any human being, 
 save Peter himself, had been seated in that room. The old 
 mnn could not help feeling it to be a strange thing, so 
 unaccustomed was he to the sight of any other human face 
 there. 
 
 "It seems to me." said his visitor dryly, taking in at a 
 glance all the appointments of the room, "that you don't 
 care much about the luxuries of life." 
 
 **I/' said Peter, "I'm obliged to live very plain — very 
 plain, indeed — because I am so poor." 
 
The Unwelcome Visitor. 83 
 
 "Poor or not," said the visitor, "you must afford to ha?e 
 a better fire while I am here. I don't approve of freezing." 
 
 He rose without ceremony, and taking half a dozen 
 sticks from the hearth, deposited them in the stove, which 
 now contained only some burning embers. 
 
 "Stay," said Peter hastily. "Don't put so much on ; it's 
 wasteful, and I sha'n't have any left for to-morrow." 
 
 "I'll risk that," said the other carelessly. "At any rate, 
 it's better to be comfortable one day than to shiver through 
 two." 
 
 The flame caught the wood, which soon blazed up, 
 diffusing an unusually cheerful glow over the apartment. 
 Peter, in spite of the dismay with which he had at first 
 contemplated the sudden movement on the part of his 
 visitor, and the awful consumption of wood which he 
 knew must ensue, nevertheless appeared to enjoy the in- 
 creased heat. He drew his chair nearer the stove, and an. 
 expression of satisfaction was visible in his face as he 
 spread out both hands to catch a little warmth. 
 
 "There, Peter," said the stranger, "I knew you'd like it 
 after it was fairly done. Isn't it worth while to have a 
 good warm fire?" 
 
 "If it didn't cost so much," groaned Peter, the one 
 thought intruding. 
 
 "Hush, Peter; if what people say be true, and as I ant 
 inclined to believe, there's no one better able to afford a 
 good fire than you." 
 
 "No era better able!" repeated Peter, at once taking 
 
24 The Unwelcome Visitor. 
 
 alarm, and lifting up both hands in earnest deprecation, 
 "when I can hardly get enough together to keep from 
 absolute starvation. Oh, it's a strange world, it's a strange 
 world !" 
 
 "Well, Peter, some strange people do live in it, to be 
 sure. But people do say, Peter, that you have a power of 
 money hidden away in this old house somewhere." 
 
 Peter started to his feet in affright, then feeling that 
 his movement might lead to suspicion, sank back into his 
 seat, saying uneasily: "I only wish it were true. People 
 say such strange things. But it's only idle talk, idle talk. 
 They know better." 
 
 "You'd be very grateful, I have no doubt, to anybody 
 that would show you where all these treasures are that 
 people talk about, wouldn't you, hey?" 
 
 "Ye — yes," answered Peter Manson, who did not know 
 quite how to understand his companion, whose tone seemed 
 to have a hidden meaning which made him uneasy. 
 
 "And will you give me leave to search the house, if I 
 will promise to give you half the gold I find ?" 
 
 "But you wouldn't find any," answered the miser hastily. 
 
 "Then there would be no harm done. Suppose, now, I 
 should remove the flooring just here, for instance, don't 
 you think I might possibly find something underneath that 
 would repay me for my search?" 
 
 Unconsciously, the speaker had hit upon one of Peter's 
 places of deposit. Directly under where he was seated 
 there was a box of coins. Accordingly, this remark, which 
 
The Unwelcome Visitor. 25 
 
 seemed to indicate to Peter some knowledge of his hiding- 
 place, filled him with fearful apprehensions. 
 
 "No, no," said he vehemently; "go away, there isn't any 
 there. If that is all you have got to say, go away and 
 leave me to my rest. I ought to be in bed; it is getting 
 late." 
 
 "I have something more to say, Peter Manson," re- 
 turned his companion. "If I had not, I should not have 
 sought you to-night. What I have to say is of great 
 importance to you, as you will find. Will you hear it ?" 
 
 "Go on," muttered Peter, his attention arrested, in spite 
 of his fears by the stranger's peculiar tone. 
 
 "First, then, let me tell you a story. It may be real; it 
 may be only fancy. I won't say anything about that. By 
 the way, Peter, were you ever in the West Indies?" 
 
 This question produced a singular effect upon Peter, 
 considering its apparently unimportant character. He 
 started, turned as pale as his ghastly complexion permitted, 
 fixed an anxious glance upon the stranger, who looked as 
 if nothing particular had happened. 
 
 "No, I was never there. What made you ask?" 
 responded the miser. 
 
 "Nothing particular," said the other carelessly; "if you 
 were never there, no matter. Only it is there that what I 
 am going to tell you happened. But to my story: 
 
 "Some twenty years ago there lived in the city of Havana 
 an American gentleman, no matter about his name, who 
 had established himself in business in the city. He had 
 
26 The Unwelcome Visitor. 
 
 married before he went there, and had a daughter auvat 
 sixteen years of age. Well, his business flourished. Good 
 luck seemed to attend him in all his ventures, and he 
 seemed likely to accumulate enough to retire upon before 
 many years." 
 
 Peter started, and as the story progressed seemed to be 
 internally agitated. A keen glance satisfied his visitor of 
 this; without appearing to notice it, however, he went on: 
 
 "But things don't always turn out as well as we expect. 
 Just when things looked brightest there came a sudden 
 blow, for which the merchant was unprepared. On going 
 to his counting-room one morning, he discovered that his 
 bookkeeper had disappeared, and, what was worse, had 
 carried off with him the sum of twenty thousand dollars — ■ 
 a large sum, was it not ?" 
 
 "What is all this to me?" demanded Peter, with sudden 
 fierceness. 
 
 "I will tell you by and by," said the stranger coolly. 
 "And I will take the liberty to put a little more wood into 
 the stove, and then go on with my story." 
 
 "I — I'll put some in," said Peter. 
 
 He took a small stick about half as large round as his 
 ■wrist, and, opening the stove-door, put it in. 
 
 "That'll do to begin with," said the stranger, following 
 it, to Peter's dismay, with half a dozen larger ones. "Now 
 we'll be comfortable." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A STARTLING QUESTION. 
 
 While Peter's uneasiness became every moment more 
 marked, his visitor continued' 
 
 "This sad defalcation was the more unfortunate because 
 on that very day notes to a heavy amount became due. 
 Of course, the merchant was unable to pay them. Do you 
 know what was the result?'' 
 
 "How should I know?" asked Peter testily, avoiding the 
 gaze of the stranger, and fixing his eyes uneasily upon the 
 fire. 
 
 "Of course, you couldn't know. I was foolish to think 
 such a thing." 
 
 "Then what made you think it?" said Peter, in a petu- 
 lant tone. "I don't care to hear your story. What has it 
 got to do with me ?" 
 
 "Don't be in too much of a hurry, and perhaps you will 
 learn quite as soon as you care to. The same result fol- 
 lowed, which always does follow when a business man 
 cannot meet his engagements. He failed." 
 
 Peter stirred uneasily, but said nothing. 
 
 "His character for integrity was such that there were 
 many who would have lent him a helping hand, and car- 
 27 
 
28 A Startling Question. 
 
 ried him safely through his troubles; but he was over- 
 whelmed by the blow, and sank under it. Refusing all 
 offers of assistance, he took to his bed, and some six months 
 after died." 
 
 "And what became of his daughter ?" asked Peter, show- 
 ing a little curiosity for the first time. 
 
 "Ha ! you seem to be getting interested," exclaimed the 
 other, fixing his keen eyes upon Peter, who seemed con- 
 fused. "His daughter was beautiful, and had already won 
 the heart of a young American, who had little money but 
 a handsome figure and good business habits." 
 
 "Did she marry this young Codman?" 
 
 "Who told you his name was Codman?" asked Peter's 
 visitor, watching him keenly. 
 
 "I — I thought you did," stammered the miser, discon- 
 certed. 
 
 "You are mistaken. I have mentioned no name." 
 
 "Then I — I must have misunderstood you." 
 
 "I dare say," said the other ironically. "However, we 
 won't dispute that point. Well, this young Codman — for, 
 singularly enough, you hit upon the right name, not 
 knowing anything of the circumstances, of course — this 
 young Codman married Isabel." 
 
 "Isabel !" repeated the old man. "Her name was " 
 
 Here he paused in sudden confusion, feeling that he was 
 betraying himself by his incautious correction. 
 
 "Yes, Peter," said the other, with a shrewd smile, "you 
 are right. Her name was not Isabel, but Eleanor. I 
 
A Startling Question. 29 
 
 acknowledge that I was wrong; but it seems to me that, 
 for one who is entirely a stranger to the events I have 
 been describing, you show a wonderful shrewdness in 
 detecting my mistakes." 
 
 Peter maintained a confused silence, and wriggled about 
 uneasily, as if the stranger's fixed and watchful gaze 
 disturbed him. 
 
 "Humph! Well, they say that some people have the 
 gift of second sight, and others can see through millstones, 
 and various other wonderful things." 
 
 "What has all this to do with me ?" asked Peter crossly, 
 for he felt it necessary to make some demonstration. "It's 
 getting late, and I want to go to bed. Go away, and — 
 and come again to-morrow, if you want to." 
 
 "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, Peter, 
 which means that I am sure of you now, and perhaps you 
 wouldn't let me in if I should call to-morrow. If you are 
 sleepy, I have no objection to your going to bed. I can 
 talk to you as well as if you were sitting up. I will stay 
 here and keep the fire going.'" 
 
 Peter looked at the small pile of wood with a groan, and 
 muttered something about "its being awful extravagant to 
 keep such a fire." 
 
 "I believe," said the stranger, "I have not yet told you 
 the name of the defaulting clerk." 
 
 Peter said nothing. 
 
 "It was Thornton, but his first name was Peter, the 
 same as yours. Singular, isn't it, Peter?" 
 
30 A Startling Question. 
 
 "I suppose there are a good many Peters in the world," 
 muttered the old man. 
 
 "Very likely ; though I hope most of them are better 
 than this Peter Thornton. He got of? without being taken, 
 with the twenty thousand dollars in his possession. He 
 was fond of money, and many thought this explained the 
 defalcation. However, there were no wanting others who 
 assigned a different motive. It was said that he had been 
 smitten by the youthful charm.-, of his emplo3 r er's daughter 
 Eleanor, who did not favor his suit." 
 
 Peter shifted uneasily in his chair. 
 
 "Xo one could blame her. In fact, it was perfectly pre- 
 posterous for him to think of mating with her. Did you 
 speak ?" 
 
 "No P snarled Peter. 
 
 "I thought you said something. I repeat that she had 
 plenty of reasons for rejecting him. She was just sixteen, 
 and beautiful as she was young, and had no lack of ad- 
 mirers ready to devote themselves to her. As for Peter 
 Thornton, ha, ha ! he never could have been very hand- 
 some, from all I have heard of him. in the first place, 
 he was forty, or more." 
 
 "Thirty-eight," muttered Peter, below his breath. 
 
 "And his features were irregular, besides being marked 
 with the smallpox, which he had had in early life. He had 
 a hmg, hooked nose, like a bird's beak, an enormous mouth, 
 
A Startling Question. 31 
 
 already mingled with gray. On the whole, he hadn't much 
 beauty to boast of. Did you say anything ?" 
 
 "No !'" snarled Peter sourly. He was sitting with his 
 elbows on his knees and his face resting on his hands. 
 
 "Beg pardon, I thought you spoke. To add to Peter's 
 charms of person, his disposition was not the sweetest that 
 ever was. He had a harsh and crabbed manner, which 
 would have led to his discharge if he had not had one 
 saving trait. I will say, to bis credit, that he was a capita) 
 bookkeeper. Of his honesty bis employer thought he was 
 well assured, and probably, if nothing had occurred of a 
 character to wound Peter's pride, he might have continued 
 faithful to bis trust. One day, however, Peter took an 
 opportunity, when he bad been calling at the house of bis 
 employer on business connected with tbe counting-room, 
 to declare his love to the young lady, whom he found alone 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 "You can imagine how much she was amused— why 
 don't you laugh, Peter? You look as glum as it it were 
 you that had met this disappointment. Tbe young ; 
 told him plainly, as soon as she got over her astonishment, 
 that she could give him no encouragement whatever. Per- 
 haps there might have been in her tone something of the 
 aversion which it was natural for hei to feel a1 such a 
 proposition from one so much beneath her. If they had 
 married, i, w ould have been a second of Beaut 
 
 the Beast. Bes , Peter, I believe j'ou said 
 
 so I ' 
 
82 A Startling Question. 
 
 "No!" snarled Peter fiercely. "Have you got nearly 
 through ? Your story is nothing to me — nothing, I say. I 
 want to go to bed. You have kept me up too late already." 
 
 "I can't help that, Peter. It took me too long to get in 
 for me to resign readily the pleasure of your society. I 
 say, Peter, what a jolly good fellow you are — quite a lively 
 companion — only it strikes me you might he a little more 
 civil to your company. It isn't exactly polite to keep 
 telling one how anxious you are for him to go. 
 
 "As I was saying when you interrupted me, Eleanor told 
 Peter very decidedly that she could not for an instant 
 entertain his suit. He endeavored to change her determi- 
 nation, being an ardent, impulsive lover, and probably in 
 her impatience she said something which irritated her lover, 
 who went off in a rage. After a while, however, he was 
 foolish enough to open the subject again. Of course, she 
 was extremely annoyed at his persistence, and seeing no 
 other way of escaping the persecution, she felt it necessary 
 to acquaint her father with what had transpired. 
 
 "The merchant was naturally indignant at his book- 
 keeper's presumption, and calling him aside one morning, 
 threatened to discharge him from his employment unless 
 he should forthwith desist. This was, of course, a great 
 blow to Peter's pride. He had the good sense to say noth- 
 ing, however, but none the less determined within himself 
 to be revenged upon those who had scorned his advances, 
 as soon as an opportuity offered. I don't know as I blame 
 
A Startling Question. 33 
 
 him. Perhaps I should have done the same under similar 
 circumstances." 
 
 There was a trace of agitation upon the pale and wrinkled 
 countenance of the miser. 
 
 "This it was," continued the stranger, "taken in con- 
 nection with Peter's natural cupidity, that led to the defal- 
 cation I have mentioned. So far as the merchant was 
 concerned, his revenge was completely successful, for he 
 was the means of his ruin and premature death. And now, 
 Peter," he added, suddenly changing his tone, "can you tell 
 me what induced you to change your name from Thornton 
 to Manson?" 
 
 "Me !" exclaimed the miser, starting to his feet in 
 consternation, and glaring wildly at the speaker. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE COMPACT WITH RANDALL. 
 
 "Ye.?." paid the stranger composedly; "I repeat the 
 question, why did you change your name to Manson?" 
 
 "What — do — you — mean?" the old man faltered slowly. 
 
 "I mean just what I say, and I see you understand me 
 well enough." 
 
 "Yon can't prove it." said Peter, with an uneasy glance 
 at. his imperturbable companion. 
 
 "( an't I ? Perhaps not. I should say the mysterious 
 knowledge you seem to possess of the main incidents in my 
 story would prove something." 
 
 "That isn't evidence in a court of law/' said Peter, 
 rig a degree of confidence. 
 
 "Perhaps not; but I say. Peter, don't you recognize me?'* 
 
 The old man scanned his features eagerly, and a sudden 
 remembrance satisfied the latter that he was not 
 en. 
 
 "I see you do remember me," he said. "I thought you 
 hadn't forgotten John Randall. At any rate, he hasn't 
 forgotten you. though twenty years have passed, and I was 
 then but a young man. I ■ ■■ to < "ten about 
 
 the streets of ii. Looked nose, 
 
 34 
 
The Compact With Eandall. 35 
 
 those gray eyes, and — excuse my plainness of speech — that 
 large mouth. Yes, Peter, your features are impressed upon 
 my memory too indelihly to be effaced." 
 
 Peter Manson remembered his companion as one who 
 had had the reputation of being a "wild" young man. He 
 had been placed at school by his father without any profit- 
 able result. On his father's death he squandered, in dissi- 
 pation, the property which came to him, and had since 
 devoted himself to the sea. 
 
 "Having settled this little matter of your identity," 
 continued Eandall, "I am ready to finish my story. I 
 told you that Eleanor married the young man whose name 
 you remembered so well. He was poor, dependent upon 
 his salary as a clerk, and, thanks to you, his wife had 
 nothing to hope from her father. They were obliged to 
 live in a very humble way. At length, thinking he could 
 do better, he removed to Boston, where his early life had 
 been spent." 
 
 "To Boston !" muttered Peter. 
 
 "The removal took place some six years since. They 
 had three children when they first came here, but two died, 
 leaving only the second, a boy, named Charlie. I should 
 think he might be fourteen years of age. And now, would 
 you like to know if the husband is still living?" 
 
 "Is lie?" asked Peter, looking up. 
 
 "No. He died about a year since, of a fever." 
 
 "And — and Eleanor? What of her?" 
 
 "For six months past she has been a tenant of yours." 
 
36 The Compact With Randall. 
 
 "A tenant of mine !" exclaimed the miser. 
 
 "It is even so. She occupies a second-story room in the 
 tenement-house in Street." 
 
 "And I have met her face to face ?" 
 
 "I dare say you have. Your tenants are pretty sure to 
 have that pleasure once a month. But doesn't it seem 
 strange that Eleanor Gray, the beautiful daughter of your 
 Havana employer, should after these twenty years turn up 
 in Boston, the tenant of her father's bookkeeper ?" 
 
 "Ha, ha !" chuckled the miser, hoarsely. "She isn't so 
 much better off than if she had married old Peter." 
 
 "As to being better off," said Randall, "I presume she 
 is better off, though she can't call a hundred dollars her 
 own, than if she were installed mistress of your establish- 
 ment. Faugh ! Poorly as she is obliged to live, it is luxury 
 compared with your establishment." 
 
 He glanced about him with a look of disgust. 
 
 "If you don't like it," said Peter querulously, "there is 
 no use of your staying. It is past my bed-time." 
 
 "I shall leave you in a few minutes, Peter, but I want 
 to give you something to think of first. Don't you see 
 that your property is in danger of slipping from your 
 hands?" 
 
 "My property in danger !" exclaimed Peter wildly ; 
 "what do you mean? Where is the danger?" Then, his 
 voice sinking to its usual whine : "Not that I have any of 
 any consequence ; I am poor — very poor." 
 
The Compact With Randall. 37 
 
 "Only from what I see I could easily believe it, but I 
 happen to know better." 
 
 "Indeed, I am " 
 
 "No more twaddle about poverty," said Eandall de- 
 cidedl}', "it won't go down. I am not so easily deceived as 
 you may imagine. I know perfectly well that you are 
 worth, at the very least, thirty thousand dollars." 
 
 "Thirty thousand dollars !" exclaimed the miser, raising 
 both hands in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, Peter, and I don't know but I may say forty 
 thousand. Why, it can't be otherwise, with your habits. 
 Twenty years ago you made off with twenty thousand, 
 which has been increasing ever since. Your personal ex- 
 penses haven't made very large inroads upon your income, 
 judging from your scarecrow appearance. So much the 
 worse for you. You might have got some good from it. 
 Now it must go to others." 
 
 "To others !" exclaimed Peter, turning pale. 
 
 "Certainly. You don't think the law gives you what- 
 ever you've a mind to steal, do you ? Of course, there is no 
 doubt that to your tenants, Eleanor and Charlie Codman, 
 belongs this property which you wrongfully hold." 
 
 "They sha'n't have it ! They never shall have it !" said 
 Peter Manson hastily. 
 
 "Well, perhaps the law may have something to say about 
 that." 
 
 "My money !" groaned the miser. "If I lose that, I lose 
 
38 The Compact With Kandall. 
 
 everything. It will be my death. Goofl Mr. Randall, have 
 pity on me. I am sure you won't say anything that " 
 
 "Will bring you to State's prison," said Randall coolly. 
 
 "They — Eleanor and her son — need never know it." 
 
 "Unless I tell them." 
 
 ''But you won't." 
 
 "That depends upon circumstances. How much will 
 you give me to keep the thing secret ?" 
 
 "Precisely. That is what I have been so long in coming 
 at. You see, Peter, that the secret is worth something. 
 
 "What will I give you?" 
 Either I reveal it to the parties interested, in which case 
 I wouldn't give that!" — snapping his finger — "for your 
 chance of retaining the property, or I keep silence if you 
 make it worth my while." 
 
 "Pity me," said the miser abjectly, sinking on his knees 
 before Randall; "pity me, and spare my money." 
 
 "Pity you !" said Randall contemptuously. "Why didn't 
 you pity your employer? You must make up your mind 
 to pay me my price." 
 
 "I am very poor," whined Peter, in his customary 
 phrase, "and I can't pay much." 
 
 "Oh, yes, Peter," said the other sarcastically, "I am well 
 aware that you are poor — wretchedly poor — and I won't be 
 too hard upon you." 
 
 "Thank you — thank you," said Peter, catching at this 
 promise. "I will give you something— a little "' 
 
 "How much?" asked Randall, with some curiosity. 
 
The Compact With Randan 39 
 
 •*Ten dollars!" said the miser, with the ai, oi a man 
 who named a large sum. 
 
 "Ten dollars!" returned Randall, with a laugh of : i- 
 sion. "Ten dollars to secure the peaceable possession of 
 tnirty thousand! Old man. you must be mad, or you must 
 think that I am.'" 
 
 "I — I did not mean to offend," said the old man humbly. 
 "If I double the sum, will it satisfy you ? 1 — I will try to 
 raise it, though it will .e hard — very hard." 
 
 "This is mere trifling, Peter Hanson," said his visitor 
 decidedly. "Twenty dollars ! Why, I wouldn't have come 
 across the street to get it. Xo, you will have to elevate 
 your ideas considerably."* 
 
 "How much do you demand?" said the miser, groaning 
 internal!} 1 , and fixing his ey is anxiously upon Randall. 
 
 "You must not make a fuss when I name the amount." 
 
 "Name it," said Peter, in a choking voice. 
 
 "One thousand dollars will purchase ray silence, and 
 not a dollar less." 
 
 Peter sprang from his seat in consternation. 
 
 "One thousand dollars ! Surely you are not in earnest." 
 
 "But I am, though. This is not a subject I care to jett 
 upon." 
 
 "One thousand dollars ! It will take all I have, aud 
 leave me a beggar." 
 
 "If it should, Peter," said his visitor composedly, "I will 
 procure your admission to the poorhouse, where, if I am 
 
40 The Compact With Randall. 
 
 not much mistaken, you will be better off than in this 
 tumble-down old shanty." 
 
 "Has the man no mere} 7 ?" groaned Peter, wringing his 
 hands. 
 
 "None at all." 
 
 "Then," exclaimed the miser, in a sudden fit of despera- 
 tion, "I won't pay you a cent — not a single cent." 
 
 "That is your final determination, is it ?" 
 
 "Ye — Yes," muttered Peter, bui less firmly. 
 
 "Very well. I will tell you the result. I shall at once 
 go to Eleanor, and inform her of the good fortune which 
 awaits her. No fear but she will pay me a thousand 
 dollars for the intelligence." 
 
 "She has no money." 
 
 "I will furnish her with money for the lawyers — she 
 can repay me out of your hoards." 
 
 Peter groaned. 
 
 "Aye, groan away, Peter. You'll have cause enough 
 to groan by and by. There is one thing you don't seem to 
 consider: that the law will do something more than take 
 away your property. I will come to see you in jail." 
 
 He rose to leave the room, but Peter called him back 
 hastily. "'We may come to terms yet," he said. 
 
 "Then you accede to my terms." 
 
 "I will give you five hundred." 
 
 "Good night, Peter. I wish you happy dreams." 
 
 "St-stay !" exclaimed Peter, terrified. "I will give eight 
 hundred." 
 
The Compact With Randau ±i 
 
 "I am in something of a hurry," said Randau. 'i be- 
 lieve I will call on Eleanor. I don't think we can. make 
 any arrangement." 
 
 "Hold ! Perhaps I will do as you say." 
 
 "Ah ! now you are beginning to be reasonable," said 
 Randall, resuming his seat. 
 
 "What security can you give me for your silence ?" 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do, Peter. You remember I told 
 you Eleanor had a son, a boy of fourteen." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "His mother is quite devoted to him. Indeed, he con- 
 tributes to her support by selling papers, and by various 
 little jobs. Now, as long as Eleanor lives here you are in 
 danger." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And if a blow is leveled at her it must be through her 
 
 boy" 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you of a scheme I have arranged. You 
 must first know that I am mate of a vessel now in port, 
 which is bound for San Francisco. We are to sail in a few 
 days." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "We hapepn to be in want of a boy to fill up our regular 
 number. Suppose I kidnap Eleanor's boy. Don't you see 
 that, as he is her chief support, she will soon be in diffi- 
 culties? And this, with her uncertainty about her boy's 
 
42 The Compact With Randall. 
 
 fate, may rid you of your greatest peril, and the only one 
 of the two who could identify you." 
 
 "Excellent, excellent !" chuckled Peter, rubbing hie 
 hands. "She shall yet be sorry that she rejected o!4 
 Peter." 
 
 "Am I to understand that you accede to my proposal, 
 then?" 
 
 Not without many groans, Peter agreed to deliver the 
 sum mentioned between them, on condition that the boy 
 was secured. 
 
 It was striking ten when Eandall left the house. His 
 face beamed with exultation. 
 
 "I have done a good night's work," he said. "By work- 
 ing on the fears of the old curmudgeon I have made sure 
 of a thousand dollars. He will be lucky if this is the las* 
 money I get out of him. He little thinks that I. too. have 
 a revenge to wreak. He is not the only one that has been 
 scornfully rejected by Eleanor Codinan. Now to bed, and 
 to-morrow shall see my work commenced." 
 
CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 CHARLIE AT HOME. 
 
 The tenement-house owned by Peter Manson was a 
 three-story wooden building, very much in need of paint. 
 It was scarcely likely to be pointed out by any one as one 
 of the architectural ornaments of the city. Years before it 
 had fallen into Peter's hands at a small price, and he had 
 every year since realized from it in the way of rent a sum 
 equal to one-half the purchase-money. No one who has 
 lived in a city can help knowing how much more propor- 
 tionally the poor are compelled to pay for their scanty and 
 insufficient accommodations than the rich, or those in mod- 
 erate circumstances. No class of property is made to pay 
 a larger percentage than the wretched tenement-houses, 
 which seem adapted to furnish as little accommodation as 
 possible to those who are compelled to occupy them. 
 
 The tenement-house in which Charlie and his mother 
 lived was no better than the average. It was the home of 
 a large number of persons of various occupations. Seam- 
 stresses, mechanics, washerwomen, and many others found 
 a home under this one roof. 
 
 Mrs. Codman occupied a room on the second floor. As 
 soe entered the room it was easy to see what a charm can 
 43 
 
44 Charlie at Home. 
 
 be thrown around even the humblest place by the presence 
 of refinement and good taste. All the appointments of the 
 room, indeed, were of the cheapest description. Probably 
 the furniture did not exceed in cost that of the room oppo- 
 site. Yet there was a considerable difference in the appear- 
 ance of Mrs. Codman's room and that of Sally Price. 
 
 The old-fashioned windows were washed as clean as water 
 could make them, so as to admit all the sunshine which 
 could find its way over the tall roof on the opposite side 
 of the street. They were hung with plain chintz curtains, 
 separated in the middle and looped on either side. The 
 floor was quite clean as far as it could be seen. In the 
 center was spread a floor-cloth some eight feet square, 
 which relieved its bareness. There was a small round table 
 near the window, and a small square work-table of no very 
 costly material in another part of the room. On this was 
 placed a rose bush in a flower-pot. It had been given to 
 Charlie by an old gentleman who had taken a fancy to 
 him. 
 
 In another place was a home-made lounge, the work of 
 Charlie's hands. It had originally been a wooden box, 
 given him by a shopkeeper near-by. This box had been 
 covered with calico stuffed with cotton, so that it made quite 
 a comfortable seat. It was used, besides, as a wood-box, 
 its legitimate province; but when the cover was closed it 
 was, nevertheless, a very respectable article of furniture. 
 There were, besides, a few plain wooden chairs and a small 
 rocking-chair for Mrs. Codman. Opening out of the main 
 
Charlie at Home. 45 
 
 room was a small bedroom, occupied by the mother, while 
 Charlie had a bed made up for him at night in the common 
 sitting-room. 
 
 A few books — a very few — were piled upon the little 
 table. They were chiefly school-books — an arithmetic, a 
 geography, and an atlas, over which Charlie would gen- 
 erally spend a portion of every evening, and occasionally a 
 boy's book, lent him by his friend, Edwin Bangs, who, to- 
 gether with his brothers, had quite a large juvenile library. 
 
 Mrs. Codman was sitting by the window, industriously 
 engaged in needle-work, and intent on accomplishing a 
 certain amount before nightfall. She was past thirty-five, 
 yet, in spite of the trials which have left their impress on 
 her brow, she would readily be taken for five years younger. 
 She had drawn her chair to the window, to make the most 
 of the rapidly fading daylight, as with swift fingers she 
 plied the glistening needle. 
 
 There was a hasty step on the stairs, a stamping at the 
 door, and in rushed a bright, handsome boy, with rosy 
 cheeks and dark hair. 
 
 The mother's face lighted up with a bright smile as she 
 turned to her son, the only one she had left to love. 
 
 "You're a little later than usual, Charlie, are you not?" 
 she said. 
 
 "A little, mother. You see, I didn't get a job till late, 
 and then two came together." 
 
 "What were they ?" 
 
 "'A gentleman wanted me to take his grip from the 
 
46 Charlie at Home. 
 
 Maine depot, and I had to carry it away up to Rutland 
 
 Street." 
 
 "Did lie go with you?" 
 
 "No ; he had to go to his office in State Street." 
 
 "Was he willing to trust you? Some boys might have 
 
 made off with the bag, and he would never have seen it 
 
 "He thought of that, but he said — and I think he's a 
 real gentleman — that he knew I was honest by my appear- 
 ance, and he was willing to trust me." 
 
 "Quite complimentary, Charlie. How much did he pay 
 yon for your trouble ?" 
 
 "Half a dollar." 
 
 "Then you have done a good deal better than I have. I 
 have been working all day, and shall not realize more than 
 twenty-five cents for my labor/' 
 
 "I wish you didn't have to work at all, mother." 
 
 "Thank you, Charlie; but I dare say I am happier for 
 having something to do. I wish I could get better pay 
 for my work. But you haven't told me what the other 
 errand was. You said you had two." 
 
 "Yes," said Charlie ; "I had just got back from Eutland 
 Street, and had bought two or three evening papers which 
 I was going to try to sell, when a man came up to me, and, 
 after looking at me for a minute or two, asked me if I 
 :e a little walk with him. He said he was a 
 stranger in Boston, and didn't know his way about much. 
 He asked me if I had lived hero long and what my name 
 
Charlie at Home. 47 
 
 wa*. lie told me he would pay me if I would go arouud 
 with him and point out some of the public buildings. He 
 told me he would pay me at the rate of twenty-five cents 
 an hour for my time. I told him I had one or two papers 
 to dispose of. 
 
 " 'Never mind about them,' said he, 'I will take them off 
 your hands.' 
 
 " 'But they are alike,' said I. 
 
 '" "'Never mind,' he answered ; so lie paid me the full 
 price for two Journals and two Transcripts, and off we 
 went," 
 
 "What sort of a person was he?" 
 
 "He was a stout man, over forty, and looked to me like 
 a sailor. I shouldn't wonder if he was an officer of some 
 ship." 
 
 "Did you like his looks?"' 
 
 "Why," said Charlie, hesitatingly, "not exactly; not so 
 much as I did of the othei in. There was some- 
 
 thing about his e; n't like. Still, he acted up 
 
 to his agreement, and me all he promi 
 
 " • ■ .' ■ ' ogethei 
 an hour a :'. We walked round the 
 
 Co] mcl the Publi i. went into the Slate House 
 
 .' lie Lil i] ■■■ he didn't seem to care 
 
 much about them. He seemed to take more interest in 
 me, somehow, and asked me a good many questions; 
 whether I had any parents living, and how long I had 
 
48 Charlie at Home. 
 
 lived in the city. When I told him you were born in 
 Havana, he said he used to live there himself." 
 
 "Indeed !" said Mrs. Codman. 
 
 "He also told me that he might like to have me go round 
 with him again, and told me to call to-morrow at the 
 Quiney House, where he is stopping. But, mother, isn't 
 it most time for supper? Here, just let me set the table, 
 if you are busy/' 
 
 "Very well, Charlie; I shall be glad to have you do so, 
 as I am in a hurry to finish my sewing." 
 
 In the evening Charlie read to his mother while she 
 sewed. Neither of them suspected that it was the last 
 evening they would spend together for several months. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 CAPTAIN BRACE. 
 
 Lying at one of the wharves was a ship of moderate size, 
 evidently fast getting ready for sea. The cargo had all 
 been stowed away, and, notwithstanding the confusion, it 
 was easy even for a landsman to see that the ship was about 
 ready for departure. 
 
 The ship was the Bouncing Betsy, commanded by Cap- 
 tain Nathaniel Brace. He was a short, stout, broad-shoul- 
 dered man. He was no fresh-water captain, but from the 
 age of thirteen had been tossing about on the ocean. He 
 had little education beyond what was required by his pro- 
 fession, and was utterly lacking in refinement and courtesy. 
 He was not an amiable man, but rough, stormy, exacting, 
 and dictatorial. The crew under his command he looked 
 upon as so many machines, whose duty it was to obey him 
 with scrupulous exactness, whatever might be the nature 
 of his requisitions. When he got into one of his fits of 
 passion he would stamp and rave, kicking and striking this 
 way and that with the most reckless disregard of human 
 lives and human feelings. In fact, he was one of those 
 pests of the merchant service, an unfeeling tyrant, who 
 did all in his power to degrade the profession which he had 
 49 
 
150 Captain Brace. 
 
 adopted, and add to the hardships which lie in the path of 
 the sailor. 
 
 The employers of Captain Brace were far from being 
 Bware of the extent to which he carried the severity of his 
 discipline; brutality, indeed, would, be the more appro- 
 priate word. They supposed him to be a strict commander, 
 who liked to preserve a proper subordination in those under 
 his command, and this they were disposed to commend, 
 rather than to complain of, more especially as the captain 
 was master of his profession, and had usually made quick 
 and profitable voyages. This, as may be supposed, was 
 enough to cover a great many defects in the eyes of those 
 whose pecuniary interest he subserved, even if the cap- 
 lain had not been shrewd, enough to conceal his more dis- 
 agreeable traits when on shore under an affectation of bluff 
 frankness. 
 
 Without dwelling further on the personal characteristics 
 ©f Captain Brace, with whom we shall have abundant op- 
 portunity to become acquainted, since we purpose going to 
 eea with him on his approaching voyage, we introduce him 
 pacing the deck of his vessel, with a short black pipe in his 
 mouth, on the very morning he intends to sail. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Bandall? Has he come on board?'' he 
 inquired, turning to the second mate. 
 
 "No, sir; I have not seen him this morning," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "When he comes on board tell him I wish to see him im- 
 mediately."' 
 
Captain Brace. 5i 
 
 "Very well, sir." 
 
 The captain went to his cabin, and about five minutes 
 later the individual after whom he inquired came aboard. 
 We recognize in him an old acquaintance; no other than 
 the nocturnal visitor who excited such fearful apprehen- 
 sions in the mind of old Peter Manson, the miser. 
 
 "Where is Captain Brace, Mr. Bigelow?" he inquired 
 of the second mate. 
 
 "In the cabin, Mr. Randall. He wishes to see you." 
 
 "And I wish to see him, so we can suit each other's con- 
 venience. How long since did he ask for me?" 
 
 "Only two or three minutes. He has just gone below." 
 
 "Then lie hasn't had long to wait." 
 
 With these words, he hastened to the cabin, where he 
 found the captain waiting for him. 
 
 The subject on which the captain wished to see his first 
 mate was purely of a professional and technical character, 
 and when this preliminary matter was disposed of, Ran- 
 dall, with a little hesitation, remarked : "I have a little 
 favor to ask of you, Captain Brace." 
 
 "Very well, sir; let me know what it is, and if I can 
 conveniently grant it I will." 
 
 "The boy who had engaged to go with us has backed 
 out, having heard some ridiculous stories about your se- 
 verity and " 
 
 The captain's brow grew dark with anger, as he said: 
 
 "The young rascal! I should like to overhaul him I 
 I'd show him what it is to see service I" 
 
52 Captain Brace. 
 
 There is very little doubt that the captain would have 
 kept his word. 
 
 Eandall took care not to inform his superior officer that 
 he had privately communicated to the mother of the boy 
 intelligence of his severity, not from any motives of hu- 
 manity, but simply because his going would have interfered 
 with his own plans in respect to Charlie. 
 
 "We shall not have much time to hunt up a boy if we 
 sail at three o'clock," said the captain. "I don't see but 
 vre must go without one." 
 
 "I think I can supply you with one, Captain Brace." 
 
 "Ha ! who is it ?" 
 
 "It is a nephew of mine, and the favor I spoke of was 
 that you should take him in place of the other boy." 
 
 "Humph !" said the captain, "there is one objection I 
 have to taking relations of the officers. You are expected 
 to be tender to them, and not order them about as roughly 
 as the rest." 
 
 "There won't be any trouble of that sort in this case, 
 Captain Brace, you may be very sure," said the mate. 
 "Although the boy is my nephew, I don't feel any very ex- 
 traordinary affection for him." 
 
 "I should think not," said the captain, with a grim 
 smile, "from your efforts to get him a place on board this 
 ship. You're not any more gentle with boys than I am." 
 
 "The fact is, Captain Brace," said Eandall, with a smile 
 which evinced a thorough understanding of the captain's 
 meaning — "the fact is, the boy is unruly, and they can't 
 
Captain Brace. 53 
 
 do much for him at home, and I thought it might be well 
 for him to try a voyage or two, for the benefit of his 
 health r 
 
 The mate smiled, and as it was such a joke as the cap- 
 tain could appreciate, he smiled, too. 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Eandall; if such are your views, I have 
 no objection to his coming on board." 
 
 "I had fears," continued the mate, "that his unruly tem- 
 per would interfere with his usefulness at home. I felt 
 pretty sure we could soon cure him of that." 
 
 "Kill or cure,, that's my motto," said the captain. 
 
 "Sometimes both," thought Eandall, remembering one 
 boy in a previous voyage who had languished and died 
 under the cruel treatment he experienced on board. 
 
 "Does the boy know he is to go with us?" inquired the 
 captain. 
 
 "Bless you, no; not he! He'd make a fuss if he did.'* 
 
 "How do you intend to get him on board, then?" 
 
 "I shall invite him to come and see the vessel, and when 
 he is clown below I can take care that he stays there till 
 we are fairly at sea." 
 
 "A good plan. What is the youngster's name, Mr. Ean- 
 dall?" 
 
 "Jack Eandall; named after me." 
 
 "Humph ! Hope he'll do credit to the name," said 
 the captain grimly. "I leave in your hands all the steps 
 
54 Captain Brace. 
 
 necessary to securing him. Remember, if you please, that 
 we shall sail at three." 
 
 "I will be on board before that time, sir, and bring my 
 nephew with me." 
 
 "Yery well, sir." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BLUE CHEST. 
 
 On leaving the Bouncing Betsy, Mr. John Randall, the 
 estimable mate of that vessel, bent his steps toward a shop 
 devoted to sailors' ready-made clothing, with a large va- 
 riety of other articles such as seamen are accustomed to 
 require. 
 
 It was a shop of very good dimensions, but low-studded 
 and rather dark, the windows, which were few, being in 
 part covered up by articles hung in front of them. 
 
 The proprietor of this establishment was Moses Mellen, 
 a little man, keen-eyed, and always on the alert for busi- 
 ness. He had one qualification for a successful trader — 
 he seldom or never forgot a face which he had once seen. 
 
 Rubbing his hands with a great show of cordiality, and 
 with his face wreathed in smiles, the instant he espied 
 Randall he hastened to meet him. 
 
 "Delighted to see you, Mr. Randall/' he exclaimed ; "per- 
 haps I ought to say Captain Randall." 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 "Ah, well, that will come soon. I hope you have had a 
 prosperous voyage." 
 
 "Tolerably so, Mr. Mellen." 
 55 
 
56 The Blue Chest. 
 
 "Have you just arrived in the city, or have you been 
 here for some time?" 
 
 "Three weeks only, and now I am off again. We sailors 
 don't have a chance to stop long on land, Mr. Mellen." 
 
 "Not if they are such capital sailors as my friend, Mr. 
 Eandall. But where are you bound this time?" 
 
 "Probably to Brazil." 
 
 "Anywhere else?" 
 
 "Perhaps so. We may go to the Indies, or Sandwich 
 Islands, before we return." 
 
 "A long voyage — you will need a good outfit before you 
 start — don't you want something in my line? I sha'n't 
 •want much profit out of an old friend like you." 
 
 "Yes, I shall want a few things. I will pick them out 
 
 BOW." 
 
 "This way, then, please." 
 
 Eandall followed the proprietor to the back of the store, 
 ■where he selected a variety of articles, which he ordered 
 sent on board the Bouncing Betsy at once. 
 
 "Now," said the mate, after his own purchases were 
 completed, "I shall require a small outfit for a boy who 
 is going out with us." 
 
 "If you had brought him with you, we could have fur- 
 nished him at short order." 
 
 "There was one little difficulty in the way of my doing 
 that." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "He doesn't know he is going." 
 
The Blue Chest. 57 
 
 "Ah-ha !" said the dealer, raising his eyenab signifi- 
 cantly; "that's it, is it?" 
 
 "I see you comprehend. Now tell me what shall we do 
 about fitting him?" 
 
 "If I could only see him " 
 
 "You could judge by your eye what would be likely to 
 fit him. Is that what you would say ?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "And how long would you require to look at him?" 
 
 "Two minutes would answer." 
 
 "Very well; I will call with the boy in the course of 
 an hour or two. By the way, I shall want a small chest 
 to put the articles in. You keep them, of course?" 
 
 "A great variety." 
 
 "I dare say you will suit me. A very plain one will 
 answer. Have your bill all made out for the other ar- 
 ticles, and I will pay it." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Randall. It shall be done," and the 
 dealer bowed out his customer. 
 
 The mate now betook himself to the hotel where he had 
 engaged Charlie to meet him at eleven o'clock. Charlie, 
 who was always punctual to his appointments, had already 
 arrived, and was looking over a newspaper in the reading- 
 room. 
 
 "So you are on hand, my boy," said Randall, in a friend* 
 ly manner. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
58 The Blue Chest. 
 
 "I am glad to find you punctual. Are you ready to 
 set out ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, quite ready." 
 
 To keep up the boy's delusion as to his designs, Ran- 
 dall suffered Charlie to guide him to one or two places 
 of public interest, with which he was already more familiar 
 than his guide, and then suddenly proposed that they 
 should go down to the wharves. 
 
 "You must know, my lad/' said he, "that I am a sailor/' 
 
 "I thought so, sir." 
 
 "What made you think so?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir; but I can generally tell a sailor." 
 
 "Perhaps I haven't got my sea-legs off. However, as 
 I was saying, I am an officer on board a ship, and I have 
 just thought of a bundle I want brought from the vessel. 
 If you will go with me and fetch it, I will pay you at the 
 same rate I promised you for going about with me." 
 
 Of course, Charlie had no objections. In fact, although 
 he had been on board ships, he had never been in company 
 with an officer. Accordingly, he gave a ready assent to the 
 mate's proposition, and together they took their way to 
 Long Wharf, at which the ship was lying. 
 
 "I feel more at home in this neighborhood," said Ran- 
 dall. 
 
 "Yes," said Charlie, "I suppose so." 
 
 By this time they had reached the clothing-stare kep* 
 by Moses Mellen. 
 
The Blue Chest. 59 
 
 "J have a little errand here," said Randall, pausing- at 
 the door. 
 
 "I can stop outside,'' said Charlie. 
 
 ''You had better come in. You will see where we sailors 
 get our clothing/' 
 
 Not suspecting any sinister design in this invitation, 
 Charlie accepted it without more ado, and followed Ran- 
 dall in. He looked about him with some curiosity, not ob- 
 serving that he, too, was an object of attention to the pro- 
 prietor, whose quick eye detected their entrance. 
 
 He went forward to meet Randall. 
 
 "You see the boy, do you ?" said the mate, in a low tone. 
 
 "Is that the one?" 
 
 "Yes. Do you think you will be able to fit him ?" 
 
 "Xo doubt about it, sir, though he is a little smaller 
 than the boys we usually fit out." 
 
 "Never mind if the clothes are a little large. He'll be 
 sure to grow to them, and a precise fit isn't quite so im- 
 portant on the quarter-deck as it might be on Washington 
 Street. We are not fashionable on board the Betsy, Mr. 
 Mellen." 
 
 The dealer laughed. 
 
 "Have you made out my bill ?" 
 "Here it is." 
 
 "While I am looking it over, will you pick out such 
 clothes as the boy will need?" 
 
 Darting a hasty glance at Charlie, to make sure of hia 
 size, the dealer hurried to the rear of the shop, and com- 
 
60 The Blue Chest. 
 
 menced selecting articles, which he laid away in a small 
 blue chest. 
 
 This task was soon completed, and again he came out 
 to the front part of the store. 
 
 "All ready !" he said, in a low voice to Eandall. 
 
 "You have been quick. Here is the amount of your bill. 
 As to the chest, you may send it on board the Bouncing 
 Betsy without any unnecessary delay." 
 
 "It shall be done, Mr. Randall. Have you no further 
 commands for us?" 
 
 "I believe not to-day." 
 
 "You will remember us when you are around again, w on't 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I won't forget you." 
 
 Eandall issued from the shop, followed by Charlie. 
 
 "Now, my lad," said Eandall, "we'll go on board the 
 vessel. Have you ever been on board a ship ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, a good many times by myself, but I never 
 had any one to tell me the different parts." 
 
 "I'll promise, then," said the mate, in a tone whose sig- 
 nificance was lost upon our hero at the time, though he 
 afterward recalled it, "that you shall know more about a 
 vessel before you leave this one." 
 
 "I thank you," said Charlie, considering the offer a kind 
 one. 
 
 They ascended the ladder, and jumped upon the deck 
 of the vessel, which, though Charlie knew it not, was to 
 be his home for many a weary day. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 ON BOARD. 
 
 They had scarcely set their feet upon deck, when they 
 encountered Captain Brace. 
 
 The mate glanced significantly at the boy by his side, 
 and carelessly put his fingers to his lips in token of silence, 
 at the same time saying: "A lad whom I have promised 
 to initiate into some of the mysteries of seamanship." 
 
 "He may find the knowledge useful to him some time," 
 said the captain, with a grim smile. "Do you think you 
 should like going to sea, my lad?" 
 
 "No, sir," returned Charles promptly, "I don't think 
 I should." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I should get tired of seeing the sea all the time." 
 
 "You would get used to it." 
 
 "I never should like it so well as the land. Besides, I 
 should not like to leave my mother." 
 
 "Well, my lad, if you should ever change your mind," 
 said the captain, with a wicked glance at Eandall, "I hope 
 you'll give me the first offer of your services." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said our hero, thinking the captain very 
 affable and polite, though, to be sure, his appearance was 
 hardly as prepossessing as it might have been. 
 61 
 
6xJ Un Board. 
 
 "The captain seems to be a very nice man," saici .. ,._. 
 Randall, after that officer had left them. 
 
 "Oli, yes," answered Randall dryly, "a very fine mar 
 the captain is. I'm glad you like him." 
 
 "Have you been to sea a long time?" inquired Charlie. 
 
 "Yes, I have been ever since I was a boy." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 "Very much. It seems like home to me now. I 
 shouldn't be willing to live on land for any length of 
 time." 
 
 "Did you begin very young?" 
 
 "I was about sixteen. How old are you?" 
 
 "Almost fourteen. I shall be fourteen next month." 
 
 "You are a very good size for your age." 
 
 "Yes," said Charlie, with boyish pride, drawing him- 
 self up to his full height. Like most boys, he liked to be 
 told he was large of his age. 
 
 "My father was quite a large man," he added. 
 
 "I know it," muttered Randall to himself, as the hand- 
 some face and manly form of the father rose before him. 
 They were imprinted more vividly upon his memory, be- 
 cause he felt that it was these very advantages which had 
 enabled his rival to succeed in winning the prize for which 
 he had vainly contended. 
 
 "Did you speak?" said Charlie, hearing indistinctly the 
 words which his companion muttered. 
 
 "No," said Randall shortly. "But I promised to show 
 
On Board. 63 
 
 you something about the vessel. I suppose you know the 
 names of the masts." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What do they call this?" 
 
 "This is the mainmast," answered Charlies promptly, 
 "and the others are called the foremast and mizzenmast." 
 
 "That is right; I suppose the masts seem high to you." 
 
 "Yes, very high," said Charlie, stretching his neck to 
 enable him to see the top. 
 
 "Then you don't think you should like to go aloft?" 
 said Eandall, playing with him as a cat plays with a 
 mouse. 
 
 "I don't believe I could. It would make me dizzy." 
 
 "You could do better than you think for, if you were 
 obliged to." 
 
 "Perhaps I might," said Charlie doubtfully. "Do the 
 boys on board ship have to go up there ?" 
 
 "I had to when I was a boy." 
 
 "Weren't you afraid?" 
 
 "I suppose I was, but that didn't do any good — I had to 
 
 go-" 
 
 "Weren't you afraid of losing your hold?" 
 "Yes, but it isn't often a boy loses his hold going up 
 the first time. He is so frightened that he clings to the 
 ropes with a pretty tight grip. But after he gets used to 
 it — and it doesn't seem any worse than going up-stairs — 
 he is apt to grow careless, and then there is sometimes an 
 accident." 
 
64 On Board. 
 
 'Then I suppose they fall on deck and are instantly 
 killed," said Charlie, shuddering. 
 
 "Not always, for when the ship is in progress it leans 
 a good deal, so that they are more likely to fall over- 
 board." 
 
 "And get drowned?" 
 
 "Sometimes. They can't always keep up till assistance 
 comes, especially if they can't swim. Sometimes their 
 fall is broken by the rigging, and they manage to save 
 themselves by catching hold." 
 
 They visited other parts of the ship, and Eandall con- 
 tinued his explanations. The sailors were all on board, 
 at work in various ways. They did not appear to notice 
 the mate and his young companion when they passed, but 
 Charlie, chancing to look behind, observed one making a 
 significant gesture to another, which evidently referred to 
 them. 
 
 About this time a porter arrived from the clothing-store, 
 bringing a small blue chest. 
 
 "This is the ship Bouncing Betsy, isn't it ?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes," answered one of the sailors. 
 
 "I was told to bring this chest here, then." 
 
 "Who is it for?" 
 
 "Jack Eandall." 
 
 "That's the mate, you lubber. Why don't you put a 
 handle to his name?" 
 
 "No, it's for a boy." 
 
 "We haven't got any such boy aboard as I knows on." 
 
On Board. 65 
 
 "There ain't two ships of this name, are there?" 
 
 "Not as I ever heerd tell." 
 
 "Then this must he the ship. Where shall I stow this 
 chest? I've got tired of bringing it on my back." 
 
 "You'd better go and speak to the mate about it. There 
 he stands. Mayhap that's the boy the kit belongs to." 
 
 The porter walked forward. 
 
 "Does this belong to you?" he asked, laying down the 
 chest. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then it wasn't for a boy?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the mate carelessly. "It is for a 
 nephew of mine who is going with us this voyage." 
 
 "Is that the young gentleman ?" asked the porter, point- 
 ing to Charlie. 
 
 "He thinks you're my nephew," said Randall, smiling. 
 "A good joke, isn't it ?" 
 
 "This young gentleman is only looking about the ship 
 a little," he answered. "He don't think he should fancy 
 going to sea." 
 
 "Beg pardon, I didn't know but he might be the one." 
 
 "Oh, no, certainly not." 
 
 "Shall I leave the chest here ?" 
 
 "Yes, anywhere. Xo, you may carry it below. Here," 
 summoning one of the sailors, "show this man where to 
 put this chest." 
 
 "So your nephew is going to sea," said Charlie, with 
 some curiosity. 
 
66 On Board. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Does he think he shall like to go?" 
 
 "I don't believe he thinks much about it." 
 
 "How large a boy is he?" 
 
 "I should think he is about as large as you. Yes, come 
 to think of it, I don't believe there can be any difference 
 Between you." 
 
 The joke was a cruel one, as Charlie found to his cost 
 before long. 
 
 "Is he on board now?" 
 
 "I don't see him," said the mate, looking in the opposite 
 direction from where Charlie was standing. "But I think 
 he will be on board very soon. Were you ever dressed 
 in sailor's clothes?" 
 
 "Never," said our hero. 
 
 "I wonder how you would look. You are just about 
 my nephew's size. Have you any objection to trying on 
 his clothes?" 
 
 Charlie had not. In fact, he was rather curious to 
 learn how he should look in this unusual attire. Accord- 
 ingly he went below, and was soon dressed in full sailor- 
 rig. It was a very good fit, and very becoming. 
 
 "A good fit, is it not?" asked the mate. 
 
 "Excellent," said Charlie. 
 
 "One wo\ild almost think the clothes were meant for 
 you," said Randall, with a smile which Charlie did not 
 understand. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHARLIE IN A TIGHT PLACE. 
 
 Charlie surveyed himself in his new attire with some 
 complacency. He felt that it was becoming, and it gave 
 him a new feeling of manliness. In fact, it seemed to him 
 for the time being, as if he were really a sailor. Charlie, 
 however, though he was very well pleased with his sailor's 
 rig, did not feel in the least tempted to wear it profession- 
 ally. Accordingly, after the survey was over, he began to 
 divest himself of it. 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked the mate, laying his hand 
 heavily upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Taking off your nephew's clothes/' returned Charlie, 
 looking up in considerable surprise at the tone in which 
 he was addressed. 
 
 "What's that for?" 
 
 "To put on my own." 
 
 "Then you needn't trouble yourself," said Eandall com- 
 posedly; "those you have on are your own." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Charlie, meeting the mate's 
 look with an open, manly glance. 
 
 "I mean," said Randall, "that the clothes were bought 
 for the one who now wears them." 
 67 
 
68 Charlie in a Tight Place. 
 
 "Bought for me !" exclaimed Charlie, in great bewil- 
 derment. 
 
 "Yes. You wondered how they happened to fit you so 
 well. That is easily explained. They were picked out on 
 purpose for you. The old Jew in the clothing-store took 
 your measure with his eye while you were standing here 
 with me. Faith, he's got a pretty sharp eye." 
 
 "But your nephew?" said Charlie, his heart sinking, 
 as he began to comprehend the plot to which he had fallen 
 a victim; "I thought you said they belonged to him." 
 
 "Well," said Randall, with a harsh laugh, "you're my 
 nephew." 
 
 "I am not," said Charlie, with something of haughti- 
 ness in his tone, as he surveyed the mate scornfully. 
 
 "He's got his mother's look," muttered the latter. "That's 
 the way she looked when she sent me about my business. 
 She'd look something different, I fancy, if she knew I'd 
 got her boy in my power. I've got the whiphand of her 
 now, and she'll live yet to repent the day she rejected Jack 
 Randall." 
 
 These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, 
 and did not prevent his answering at once Charlie's bold 
 denial. 
 
 "There's a little too much pride about you, youngster. 
 It'll need taming down. You're to be my nephew while 
 you're aboard this ship. Remember, your name is Jack 
 Randall. Take care that you claim no other." 
 
Charlie in a Tight Place. 69 
 
 "What good will that do?" said Charlie. "I'm not going 
 to remain on board."' 
 
 "You're not, eh?" said the mate significantly. 
 
 "No," said Charlie boldly. 
 
 "Suppose I say you shall." 
 
 "Then," said Charlie firmly, "I say you are mistaken." 
 He commenced tugging away at his blue jacket with the 
 intention of pulling it off. 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked Randall, with a frown, 
 advancing and laying a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. 
 "Haven't I told you to keep those clothes on?" 
 
 "You have no right to interfere with me," said Charlie, 
 stoutly, his eye flashing with indignation. "Give me back 
 my clothes." 
 
 "You can't have them. If you strip off those you have 
 on, you'll have to go without any." 
 
 Exasperated, Charlie made a spring forward, and at- 
 tempted to wrest his clothes from the hands of the mate. 
 
 "Ha, my fine fellow !" exclaimed Randall, a?, evading 
 the boy's grasp, he lifted them beyond his reach. "So 
 you are inclined to be mutinous, are you? Very well, we 
 have a remedy for all such cases, and a very simple one it 
 is." 
 
 So saying, he drew a stout cord from his pocket, and 
 advanced toward the boy with the intention of binding him. 
 
 Charlie sprang for the stairs, and was half-way up be- 
 fore the mate caught him and dragged him hack. 
 
 "Well, boy, you're a pretty tough customer — true grit. 
 
70 Charlie in a Tight Place. 
 
 You're just the boy to make a sailor of. I must make 
 sure of you." 
 
 So saying, he succeeded, in spite of Charlie's vigorous 
 exertions, in tying his hands and feet, Not until thus 
 rendered quite helpless did the brave boy suffer himself 
 to burst into tears. 
 
 "What are you going to do with me?" he asked. 
 
 "I am going to make a sailor of you," answered the mate. 
 
 "But I don't want to go to sea," answered Charlie. 
 
 "So you said once before, but you'll change your mind 
 before long." 
 
 "My mother will not know where I am. She can't get 
 along without me, for she depends upon me in part for 
 support." 
 
 "I dare say she'll get along somehow," said Eandall 
 coolly. "She won't miss you much, and she ought to feel 
 glad that your uncle has taken charge of you." 
 
 "Uncle !" retorted the boy, with flashing eyes. "I 
 wouldn't own you as uncle for all the money in Boston." 
 
 "'You wouldn't !" said Eandall, his tone changing, and 
 a dark look overspreading his face. "Very well, my bold 
 lad, you may have reason to repent those words. You may 
 find out by and by that it is as well to be civil to your su- 
 perior officer. I will do nothing about it now, but when we 
 are out of port and fairly at sea, look out !" 
 
 Charlie, who was quick-witted, caught a hint from these 
 words, and at once set up a scream, hoping to draw atten- 
 tion from outside. 
 
Charlie in a Tight Place. 71 
 
 "That's your game, is it ?" said the mate. "WV41 «oon 
 stop that." 
 
 So saying, he drew out the boy's own handkerchief, and 
 gagged him so that there was no further fear of his being 
 able to make any disturbance which could be heard on the 
 wharf or on neighboring vessels. 
 
 Feeling now secure, he left Charlie mute and helpless, 
 and ascended to the deck. 
 
 "What was the noise I heard below, M r. Randall ?" asked 
 the captain, pausing in his walk and addressing his first 
 officer. 
 
 "My nephew !"' said Randall, with a smile. 
 
 "Ha! he is a little obstreperous, is he?" 
 
 "A trifle so." 
 
 "Doesn't like the society of his uncle sufficiently to 
 want to go to sea with him, I suppose?" 
 
 "I dare say he would like to change his quarters,'* said 
 Randall composedly. 
 
 "How did you reconcile him to his fate?" 
 
 "A couple of strong cords and a gag did the business. 
 They will keep him quiet till we get out to sea, and then 
 perhaps we can discover some other means of bringing him 
 to terms." 
 
 "A slightly different application of the cords, perhaps, 
 lh: Randall." 
 
 The mate smiled approval of this jest, and as his serv- 
 ice:- were now in requisition to expedite preparations for 
 departure, he left the captain and went about his duty. 
 
72 Charlie in a Tight Place. 
 
 Meanwhile, the mate's conduct Lad not been unobserved 
 by the crew. Among these was an old sailor who rejoiced 
 in the name of Bill Sturdy. It is needless to say that 
 this was not his real name. No one appeared to know 
 what his real name was, and he had become so used to this 
 that he generally called himself so. The name Sturdy 
 had probably been given him on account of his sturdy make. 
 He was stout and very powerful. Probably there were no 
 two men on board the ship who would not have felt some 
 hesitation in attacking Bill Sturdy. 
 
 It may be added that the name was no less appropriate 
 if we consider it bestowed on account of his character and 
 disposition. He was unpolished enough, having beaten 
 about the world all his life, yet he had been gifted by na- 
 ture with a fund of sturdy common sense and powers of 
 observation which made him more thoughtful and intelli- 
 gent than most of his class. He had a kind heart, and 
 hated to see oppression. This was his first voyage on 
 board the Bouncing Betsy; the ship on which he had last 
 served having been wrecked, and he with a few others hav- 
 ing, with difficulty, saved themselves. Since he had en- 
 gaged on board the Betsy, the stories he had heard of the 
 captain's brutality led him to repent of his determination, 
 and he had resolved within himself to remain on board but 
 a single voyage. 
 
 He had had his attention drawn to Charlie and the mate, 
 and he observed that the latter came up alone from below. 
 
 "That's a trim, handsome little lad," he said to himself : 
 
Charlie in a Tight Plact. 73 
 
 "I wonder what the mate is so attentive to him for. There's 
 some deviltry in the wind, as sure as my name is Bill 
 Sturdy. I hope, for the boy's sake, he isn't going to ship 
 with us. If he does, I must do what I can for him, for 
 I mistrust he'll want a friend." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OFF TO SEA. 
 
 The thoughts of Charlie Codman, as he lay helpless, 
 gagged and bound, were hardly of the most cheerful char- 
 acter. The blow had been so sudden that he was quite 
 unprepared for it. Added to this, his apprehensions were 
 vague and indefinite. There seemed something mysteri- 
 ous about the manner in which he had been spirited away, 
 and this thought increased his feeling of discomfort. A 
 danger which can be measured and comprehended in its 
 full extent may be boldly faced, however great, but when 
 we are ignorant of its nature and extent that is not so 
 easy. 
 
 Charlie understood as much as this, that it was the 
 intention of Randall to carry him off to sea. But why 
 he should have taken such pains to ensnare him, when 
 there are always plenty of boys glad to obtain such a situa- 
 tion, he could not conceive. 
 
 Charlie was no coward. He was no stranger to the 
 bold spirit of adventure by which boys of his age are apt 
 to be animated. Indeed, under different circumstances, 
 and if the arrangement had been of his own free choice, 
 it is quite possible that he might have looked forward with 
 74 
 
Off to Sea. 75 
 
 pleasurable anticipations to the life that awaited him. But 
 there was one thought uppermost in his mind that gave 
 him no little pain and anxiet} r , the thought of his mother. 
 He was her all. In the large and busy city she knew very 
 few persons; she had none whom she could call friends. 
 Her hopes were all centered in him. It was in a great 
 measure owing to his activity and industry that she had 
 been able to live with a degree of comfort, for though she 
 was always at work, the avenues of industry open to women 
 are few, and toil at the needle is so unsatisfactorily com- 
 pensated that Charlie, though working fewer hours, was 
 able to contribute considerably more than half of the sum 
 required for their joint support. 
 
 How would his mother get along during his absence, the 
 length of which he could not estimate? Would she suf- 
 fer not only in mind but in bodily discomfort? Well he 
 remembered how pleasantly the evenings had passed when 
 they were together. Now there must be a long separation. 
 Would he ever see his mother again? She would not be 
 able to retain their present lodging, now that the entire 
 rent would fall to her to pay. Perhaps when he did re- 
 turn he should be unable to obtain any clue to her where- 
 abouts. This was, indeed, a terrible thought to poor 
 Charlie, who chafed like a caged lion in his confinement. 
 He endeavored to unloose the cords which bound him, 
 but with little prospect of success; for no one better than 
 a sailor understands the art of tying a knot securely. 
 
 While Charlie was doing his utmost to free himself 
 
76 Off to Sea. 
 
 from the cords that bound him, having already removed 
 the gag, he was startled by a low laugh of triumphant 
 malice. 
 
 Looking up, he saw the mate, the author of all his mis- 
 fortunes, watching him with great apparent enjoyment. 
 
 "Ah, Jack," he said, "I see you are hard at work. Work 
 away. If you untie those knots, you've got more skillful 
 fingers than the one that tied them, that's all." 
 
 "Come and release me," said Charlie. "You have no 
 light to keep me here." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said the mate coolly. "I have the 
 best of all rights." 
 
 "And what right is that?" demanded our hero. 
 
 "The right of power!" answered Randall. "Might makes 
 right, perhaps you have heard." 
 
 "How long are you going to keep me here?" asked 
 Charlie, after a pause. 
 
 "Till we get far enough out to sea to make it safe to 
 release you." 
 
 Charlie kept silence. He felt that it would be useless 
 to appeal to the mercy of the mate, who appeared bent 
 upon carrying him away. He turned his face resolutely 
 away from Randall, for whom he began to entertain a 
 stronger dislike than he had supposed himself capable of 
 feeling. Hitherto he had only been accustomed to an at- 
 mosphere of affection, and though he had met with some 
 rebuffs in his daily search for employment, he could al- 
 ways return at night to a home and a mother, with whom 
 
Off to Sea. 7? 
 
 he could forget whatever had been disagreeable during 
 the day. Now his position was entirely changed. The 
 onlv one he knew on board the vessel was one whom he 
 had no reason to believe friendly, but very much the re- 
 verse. 
 
 By this time the noise upon deck, which he could hear 
 plainly, had become greater and greater. He could hear 
 frequent orders given by the captain, and also by the 
 mate, who had now returned to his post. 
 
 Soon the vessel appeared to be moving. He could hear 
 the plashing of the water against its sides. He felt that 
 it was in motion, slow at first, but afterward more rapid. 
 He conjectured that the ship was being towed out to 
 sea by a steam-tug. 
 
 He wished that at least he could get to a window, and 
 catch a last glimpse of the land to which he was about 
 to bid so unexpected a farewell. But this, tied hand and 
 foot as he was, was impossible, and he felt that now 
 it would do him no good even if he should succeed in 
 breaking his bonds. Already they were speeding out to 
 eea as fast as the tug could convey them. There was no 
 redress or help for him beyond the limits of the vessel in 
 which the tyrants exercised absolute control, for he felt 
 well assured that Captain Brace was in league with the 
 mate, or, at all events, would interpose his authority to 
 support Randall in his plans. 
 
 So time sped on, the ship continuing all the while in 
 steady motion. 
 
78 Off to Sea. 
 
 At length the tug left them and returned to the city, 
 leaving the vessel to shift for itself. Although Charlie 
 could not see what "was going on, he judged this from 
 the noise and shouts of command given above, to which 
 he listened with sharpened attention. 
 
 Charlie felt that with the departure of the steam-tug 
 all possibility of escape had passed. The last link which 
 had bound him to the shore had been snapped asunder. 
 
 While he was plunged in sorrowful thought he sud- 
 denly heard a step descending. 
 
 Thinking it was the mate, of whom he felt that he 
 should see in future much more than he cared, he did not 
 turn his head. 
 
 "Hello, my lad," was the salutation of the newcomer, in 
 a rough, but hearty voice, "how came you in this trim?" 
 
 It was not the mate's harsh voice. Quickly turning 
 round, Charlie's eyes rested on the bronzed but good- 
 humored face of Bill Sturdy. Whatever may be thought 
 of physiognomy as an index of character, it is undeniable 
 that we are either attracted to or repelled by certain faces. 
 
 ISTow, the first sight of Bill Sturdy's honest and good- 
 humored face seemed to Charlie like a ray of light in a 
 dark place. He felt that he was a man to be trusted. 
 
 "Will you be a friend to me?" asked Charlie, with in- 
 stinctive confidence. 
 
 '•That I will, my lad," exclaimed Bill, with hearty em- 
 phasis ; ''Imt tell me who tied you up in this fashioa ?" 
 
 "His name is Randall, and I believe he is the mate." 
 
Off to Sea. 79 
 
 "The lubberly rascal! And wliat did lie. do that for?" 
 
 "He entrapped me on board the vessel, and now he is 
 carrying me out to sea, against my will." 
 
 "How came you in your sailor's rig?" asked Sturdy. 
 
 Charlie explained the trick which had been practiced 
 Upon him. 
 
 "He's a rascal ; there ain't a doubt of that/' said Bill. 
 "I should like to overhaul him, and teach him better man- 
 ners. As for you, nry lad, I'm sorry for you. You've 
 shipped for the vVge, and there ain't any help for it, as 
 I see. But you may depend upon one thing, old Bill 
 Sturdy will look out for you, and will be your friend." 
 
 "Thank you." said Charlie, feeling more cheerful and 
 hopeful. It was something to have one friend on board. 
 
 "I mistrust there are some rascals abroad," muttered 
 Bill to himself, as he went up on deck. "They'd better 
 not interfere with me or that young lad !" and he extended 
 his muscular arm with a sense of power. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 The payment of a thousand dollars to Eandall had been 
 a severe blow to old Peter Manson, and this consideration 
 materially lessened the satisfaction which he felt in Char- 
 lie's removal. The drain upon his hoard induced him to 
 count over his possessions. Preparatory to doing so, he 
 carefully secured the outer door, and also the door of the 
 apartment which he occupied. 
 
 Then, lifting up a plank from the floor, he raised from 
 beneath a large box containing coins and bills. It was very 
 heavy, and it was not without difficulty that the old man, 
 who was very feeble, succeeded in lifting it to a level with 
 the floor. 
 
 The old man surveyed it with a groan. 
 
 "It might have been full," he muttered, "if I hadn't been 
 obliged to pay away such a sight of money to that deter- 
 mined man. One thousand dollars ! How many, many 
 weary days it will take before I can supply their place." 
 
 While Peter was indulging in this soliloquy, he was en- 
 gaged in counting the money in the box. 
 
 The result of the count showed less than he had antici- 
 pated. 
 
Landlord and Tenant. 81 
 
 The old man turned pale. 
 
 "Some one has robbed me/' he muttered. "Or, per- 
 chance, I have counted wrong. I will go over it again.*' 
 
 This he did with eager haste, and a feeling of nervous 
 anxiety, and, to his no small dismay, the count resulted as 
 before. 
 
 "They have taken my money !" exclaimed Peter, tearing 
 his white hair in anguish. "They will make me a beggar, 
 and I shall be reduced to want in my old age. Oh, oh !" 
 
 In the midst of his lamentations he suddenly discov- 
 ered the missing coin, which had rolled away, without his 
 observing it, to the opposite side of the room. 
 
 Chuckling with delight, he picked it up and replaced it 
 in the box. 
 
 His duty satisfactorily performed, the miser put on his 
 cloak, and prepared for another task. This was to raise 
 Mrs. Codman's rent, and so compel her to leave the rooms 
 which she rented from him. This, however, was unneces- 
 sary, since, deprived of Charlie's earnings, his mother would 
 have found it impossible to pay the rent previously de- 
 manded. 
 
 Peter Manson resolved to call upon his tenant in per- 
 son. He was not afraid of recognition. He felt that the 
 changes which twenty years had wrought in his appearance 
 would be a sufficient protection. Indeed, this had already 
 been tested; for Peter had already called several times on 
 the same errand, without attracting a glance which could 
 be construed into recognition. 
 
82 Landlord and Tenant. 
 
 It was the morning after Charlie had disappeared. He 
 had been absent twenty-four hours, and his mother had 
 beard nothing of him. She was in a terrible state of ap- 
 prehension and anxiety, for few boys were more regular 
 than he in returning home as soon as his daily duties 
 were over. 
 
 Mrs. Codman had sat up late into the night, hoping 
 against her fears that he would return. At length, ex- 
 hausted by her vigils, she sank upon the bed, but not to 
 deep. In the morning she rose, unrefreshed, to prepare hov 
 solitary meal. But it was in vain. Sorrow and anxiety 
 had taken away her appetite, and she was unable to eat 
 anything. 
 
 Soou afterward a knock was heard at the door. She has- 
 tened to open it, hoping to hear some tidings of her lost 
 feey. What was her disappointment to meet the bent form 
 and wrinkled face of Peter Manson, her landlord. 
 
 The old man gave her a stealthy glance. 
 
 "Why did I not know her before?" he thought. "She 
 is not so very much changed. But I — ha, ha ! she don't 
 know who I am." 
 
 Mrs. Codman went to a drawer in her bureau, and took 
 therefrom six dollars. 
 
 "This is the amount of your rent, I believe," she said. 
 
 The old man greedily closed his fingers upon the money, 
 and then, alter intimating that it was very small, avowed 
 hi;- <3i termination to raise the rent to two dollars per week. 
 
Landlord and Tenant. 83 
 
 The miser watched with gleeful exultation the look of 
 dismay which came over the face of his tenant. 
 
 Two dollars a week was not only beyond Mrs. Codman's 
 means, but was, at that time, an exorbitant rent for the 
 rooms which she occupied. She would scarcely have been 
 justified in paying it while she had Charlie's earnings as 
 well as her own to depend on. Yet there seemed now an 
 imperative necessity for remaining where she was, for a 
 time at least. It was possible that Charlie would come bar-k, 
 and if she should remove, where would he find her? Of 
 course, he would come back ! The thought that there was 
 even a possibility of her son being lost to her was so 
 full of shuddering terror, that Mrs. Codman would not 
 for a moment indulge it. 
 
 She resolved to make an effort to arouse the old man's 
 compassion. She did not dream of the spite and hatred 
 which he felt toward her. There are none whom the wicke<$ 
 hate so heartily as those whom they have injured. That 
 is something beyond forgiveness, 
 
 Mrs. Codman knew that Peter Manson was avaricious, 
 and to this she attributed the increase in the rent. She 
 had no suspicion that he had a particular object in dis- 
 tressing her. 
 
 "Surely, Mr. Manson," she remonstrated, "you do not 
 think these rooms worth two dollars a week. It is all wa 
 are able to do to raise the rent we now pay." 
 
 "Humph !" muttered Peter, avoiding the eye of his ten' 
 ant, "they are v/orth all I can get for them." 
 
84 Landlord and Tenant. 
 
 "Have you raised the rent on the other rooms in this 
 house ?" 
 
 "No, but I— I shall soon." 
 
 "Then I tremble for your tenants. Mr. Manson, if you 
 were poor yourself, perhaps you would have a heart to sym- 
 pathize with and pity the poor." 
 
 "If I were poor !" exclaimed the old man, betrayed into 
 his customary whine ; "I am poor ; indeed, I am very poor." 
 
 "You !" repeated Mrs. Codman incredulously. "Why, 
 you must receive a thousand dollars a year from this build- 
 ing." 
 
 "Yet I — I am poor," persisted Peter. "I am only an 
 agent. I — I do not own the building; at least — I mean — 
 there are heavy incumbrances on it. I have to pay away 
 nearly every dollar I receive." 
 
 "Can you let me remain a month longer for the same 
 rent as heretofore?" asked Mrs. Codman anxiously. 
 
 "I — I couldn't do it," said Peter hastily. "Either you 
 must pay two dollars a week, or move out." 
 
 Mrs. Codman hesitated. 
 
 She went to the bureau, and found that she had between 
 five and six dollars remaining in her purse. This would 
 enable her, in addition to what she could earn by sewing, 
 to get along for a month. 
 
 "Very well, sir," said she. "I must stay a month longer, 
 at any rate. I must for my boy's sake." 
 
 "Have you a son ?" asked Peter, desirous of learning from 
 the mother's lips that the blow had struck home. 
 
Landlord and Tenant. 85 
 
 "Yes; you have probably seen him here sometimes." 
 
 "I haven't noticed him." 
 
 "I am feeling very anxious about him. Yesterday morn- 
 ing he went out on an errand for some one who had en- 
 gaged him, and he hasn't been back since. I am afraid 
 something must have happened to him/' and the mother's 
 eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Perhaps he has fallen off from one of the wharves, and 
 got drowned," suggested Peter, with a savage delight in 
 the pain he was inflicting. 
 
 "You don't think it possible !" exclaimed Mrs. Codnian, 
 starting to her feet, and looking in the old man's face, 
 with a glance of agonized entreaty, as if he could change 
 by his words the fate of her son. 
 
 "Such things often happen," said Peter, chuckling in- 
 wardly at the success of his remark; "I knew a boy — an 
 Irish boy, about the size of yours — drowned the other day." 
 
 "About the size of my boy ! I thought you had not 
 noticed him." 
 
 "I — I remember having seen him once," stammered Pe- 
 ter. "He is about a dozen years old, isn't he?" 
 
 "Yes; but you don't — 3011 can't think him drowned." 
 
 "How should I know ?" muttered Peter. "Boys are care- 
 less, very careless, you know that ; and like as not he might 
 have been playing on the wharf, and " 
 
 "No, it can't be," said Mrs. Codman, with a feeling of 
 relief which her knowledge of Charlie's habits gave her. 
 
g<j Landlord and Tenant. 
 
 "Charlie was not careless, and never went to play on the 
 wharf." 
 ' The old man was disappointed to find that his hlow had 
 failed of its effect, but ingenious in devising new methods 
 of torture, he now suggested the true cause of Charlie's 
 absence. 
 
 "Perhaps," he said, with his cruel gray eyes fixed upon 
 the mother, "perhaps he's been carried off in a ship.'' 
 
 "Carried off in a ship \" faltered Mrs. Codman. 
 
 "Yes," said Peter, delighted by the evident dismay with 
 which this suggestion was received. 
 
 "But," said Mrs. Codman, not quite comprehending his 
 meaning, "Charlie never had any inclination to go to sea." 
 
 "Perhaps they didn't consult him about it," suggested 
 Peter. 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed the mother, with start- 
 ling emphasis, half-advancing toward the old man. 
 
 "You — you shouldn't be so violent," said Peter, trem- 
 bling and starting back in alarm. 
 
 ''Violent ! Deprive a mother of her only child, and she 
 may well show some vehemence." 
 
 "I — I didn't do it," said Peter hastily. 
 
 "Certainly not," said Mrs. Codman, wondering at his 
 thinking it necessary to exculpate himself; "but you were 
 saying something about — about boys being carried to sea 
 against their will." 
 
 "I didn't mean anything/' muttered Peter, regretting 
 that he had put her on the right track. 
 
Landlord and Tenant. 87 
 
 "But you did, otherwise you would not have said it. 
 For Heaven's sake, tell me what you did mean, and all you 
 meant. Don't fear to distress me. I can bear anything 
 except this utter uncertainty." 
 
 She looked up earnestly into the old man's face. 
 
 Peter was somewhat amused at the idea that he might 
 be afraid to distress her, hut decided, on reflection, to tell 
 her all that he chose she should be made acquainted with. 
 
 "Sometimes," he explained, "a captain is short of hands, 
 and fills out his number the best way he can. Now, per- 
 haps one of the ships at the wharves might have wanted 
 a boy, and the captain might have invited your son an 
 board, and, ha, ha ! it almost makes me laugh to think of it, 
 might have carried him off before he thought where he 
 was." 
 
 "Do you laugh at the thought of such a cruel misfor- 
 tune?" asked Mrs. Codman, startled from her grief by the 
 old man's chuckle. 
 
 "I — excuse me, I didn't intend to; but I though! he 
 would be so much surprised when he found out when- he 
 was." 
 
 "And does that seem to you a fitting subject for merri- 
 ment ?" demanded the outraged mother. 
 
 The miser cowed beneath her indignant glance, aad, 
 mattering something unintelligible, slunk away. 
 
 ''Curse her !" he muttered, in his quavering tones, "why 
 can't I face her like a man? I never could. That was 
 
88 Landlord and Tenant. 
 
 the way when — when she rejected me. But I shall have 
 my revenge yet." 
 
 Strange to say, Peter's last suggestion produced an ef- 
 fect quite different from that which he anticipated and in- 
 tended. Days passed, and Charlie did not come; but his 
 mother feeling certain, she hardly knew why, that he had 
 been inveigled on board some vessel, felt sure he would 
 some day return. 
 
 "He will write to me as soon as he gets a chance," 
 thought the mother, "and I shall soon see him again," 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 
 
 Small as was the remuneration which Mrs. Codman re- 
 ceived for sewing, she hoped, by great economy, to get 
 along with the money which she already had on hand. But 
 troubles never come singly, and of this she was destined 
 to feel the full significance. 
 
 One morning she made up a bundle of completed work, 
 and proceeded with it to the ready-made clothing-store of 
 Messrs. Sharp & Keene, her employers. It was a trial to 
 one reared as Mrs. Codman had been to come into contact 
 with men who did not think it necessary to hide their 
 native coarseness from one who made shirts for them at 
 twenty cents apiece. 
 
 On the present occasion she was kept waiting for some 
 time, before her presence appeared to be noticed. At length; 
 Sharp nodded to her from the desk. 
 
 "Ahem ! Mrs. Wiggins," commenced Sharp. 
 
 "Codman, sir," corrected the one addressed. 
 
 "Well, the name don't signify, I suppose. How many 
 shirts have you got there?" 
 
 "Half a dozen, sir." 
 
 "Half a dozen at twenty cents apiece make a dollar and 
 89 
 
90 Clouds and Sunshine. 
 
 twenty cents. Present this card at the other desk and 
 you will he paid." 
 
 He scratched on a card "6 shirts — $1.20/' and handed, 
 it to her, at the same time calling, in a loud voice, "Here, 
 Thomas, pay Mrs. "Wigman a dollar and twenty cents." 
 
 "Codman, sir." 
 
 "It seems to me you are mighty particular about your 
 name." 
 
 "Shall I have more work ?" asked Mrs. Codman, with 
 some anxiety. 
 
 "Well, not at present. Business is dull just now. Noth- 
 ing doing, and won't be for some time to come." 
 
 "How long before you can probably give me something 
 to do?" inquired Mrs. Codman apprehensively. 
 
 "Can't say," was the careless reply. "It may be a 
 month, or six weeks. You can call round in four or five 
 weeks." 
 
 "What am I to do between now ami then?" thought the 
 poor woman, with her heart sinking. 
 
 She must get something to do. She could not live 
 otherwise, more especially since the rise in the rent, and 
 her resources had been so largely diminished by the with- 
 drawal of Charlie's services. 
 
 She applied at several other shops which she passed on 
 the way home, but found, in every case, that they were 
 already overrun with applications, and in the slack of 
 business would be compelled to discharge some of thosie at 
 present employed. 
 
Clouds and Sunshine. 91 
 
 But the hour is darkest thafs just before day, and when 
 fortune has done its worst, oftentimes the tide turns, and 
 affairs improve. 
 
 So it proved with Mrs. Codman. 
 
 On Teaching home, not a little depressed at the idea 
 of remaining inactive, when she stood so much in need of 
 the proceeds of her labor, Mrs. Codman had scarcely 
 removed her bonnet and shawl, when she heard a knock 
 at her door. 
 
 In answer to her "Come in," the door opened and the 
 washerwoman, who roomed just above, entered. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. O'Crady?" said Mrs. Codman. 
 
 "I am very well, Mrs. Codman, and I hope it's the same 
 wid yerself. Have you heard anj'thing of the swate boy 
 that was lost ?" 
 
 "Nothing," was the sad reply. 
 
 "Cheer up, then, Mrs. Codman. He'll be coming back 
 bimeby, wid his pockets full of gold, so that you won't 
 have to work any more." 
 
 "I am afraid that I shall not be able to work any more 
 at present," returned Mrs. Codman. 
 
 "And what for not ? Is it sick that ve are ?" 
 
 Mrs. Codman related the want of success which she 
 had met with in procuring work. She also mentioned 
 Peter's visit and the increased rent. 
 
 "Just like him, the old spalpeen !" broke out Mrs. 
 ™<Trady indignantly. "Ho wants to squeeze the last cint 
 .at of us poor folks, and it don't do him any good neither. 
 
92 Clouds and Sunshine. 
 
 I'd be ashamed if Mr. O'Grady wint about dressed as he 
 does. But maybe, Mrs. Codnian, I'll get you a chance 
 that'll take you out of his reach, the mane ould rascal !" 
 
 "You get me a chance ! What do you mean ?" asked 
 Mrs. Codman, turning with surprise to her Hibernian 
 friend and defender. 
 
 "I'll tell ye, only jist sit down, for it may take me some 
 time." 
 
 It seems that Mrs. O'Grady had been employed, at 
 sundry times, in the house of a Mr. Bowman, a wealthy 
 merchant living on Mt. Vernon street. This gentleman 
 had lost his wife some months before, and had an only 
 child, a daughter, about ten years of age. Her father 
 did not like schools, either public or private, for a child 
 of her years, and preferred that his daughter, for the 
 present, should be educated at home. Hitherto she had 
 been left pretty much to herself, and had never been will- 
 ing to apply herself to study. 
 
 Mr. Bowman was now looking for a suitable governess 
 for his daughter, and it had struck Mrs. O'Grady — who, 
 though ignorant and uncultivated herself, was sharp- 
 sighted enough to detect the marks of education and re- 
 finement in another — that Mrs. Codman would suit him. 
 
 So Mrs. O'Grady, in her zeal, made bold to intimate to 
 the servants, through whom it reached Mr. Bowman, that 
 she knew a sweet lady who would be just the one for a 
 governess for the young lady. 
 
 Now the recommendation of an Irish washerwoman 
 
Clouds and Sunshine. 93 
 
 may not be considered the most valuable in an affair of 
 this kind; but it so happened that the suggestion reached 
 Mr. Bowman at a time when he was so oppressed with 
 business cares that he did not know how to spare the time 
 necessary to seek out a governess. He accordingly sum- 
 moned Mrs. O'Grady to a conference and asked some 
 hasty questions of her, which she answered by such 
 eulogistic account of Mrs. Codman, whose condescending 
 kindness had quite won her heart, that Mr. Bowman de- 
 sired her to request Mrs. Codman to call upon him the 
 next day at a stated hour. 
 
 "So you see, Mrs. Codman," concluded the warmhearted 
 Irishwoman, "that you're in luck, and all j^ou've got to 
 do is to call upon Mr. Bowman to-morrow, and you'll get 
 a nice home, and won't have to work any more at your 
 sewing." 
 
 Mrs. Codman did not at once reply. 
 
 "And won't you go?" asked Mrs. O'Grady, wondering 
 at her silence. 
 
 "I think I will," said Mrs. Codman, "and I feel much 
 obliged to you, my good friend, for saying a kind word for 
 me, though I do not feel at all confident that I shall 
 obtain this place." 
 
 "Niver fear for that," said the sanguine washerwoman; 
 "he'll see at once that you're a rale lady, and it's in luck 
 he'll be to get you." 
 
 Undoubtedly, the position of a governess would be more 
 remunerative, and less laborious, than that of a seamstress, 
 
94 Clouds and Sunshine. 
 
 and, under present circumstances, Mrs. Codman felt that 
 she could not afford to throw the chance away. She re- 
 tired that night a little more cheerful and hopeful than 
 would have been the case had not this door of escape from 
 the evil of want been shown her. 
 
CHAPTER XI Y. 
 
 BEBTHA BOWMAN. 
 
 In the break fast- room of a house '>n Mt. Vernon Street 
 sat a gentleman of perhaps forty-five, rather stout, and 
 with a pleasant » q>ressi >n of countenance. He had fin- 
 ished his cup of coffee, and taken up the morning paper, 
 which he scanned carefully, more especially those parts 
 relating to business. 
 
 At the opposite side of the table sat a young lady of 
 ten, with mirthful black eyes, and very red cheeks, which 
 are well set off by her black hair. Altogether, she was 
 very handsome, a fact of which she was not altogether 
 unconscious. She was lively, fresh, original, and impul- 
 sive, not under very much restraint, but with an excellent 
 disposition and kindly feelings, which did not allow her to 
 gQ very far wrong. Yet it must be confessed that thus far 
 her education had been sadly neglected, so that she prob- 
 ably knew less than most girls two years younger. 
 
 The room in which the father and daughter were seated 
 was tastefully furnished with that regard to comfort which 
 is found in American houses. 
 
 The two are Benjamin Bowman, a wealthy merchant, 
 and his daughter Bertha, though, in that shortening of 
 95 
 
96 Bertha Bowman. 
 
 name which is apt to take place in a family, hers had been 
 shortened to Bert, which she appeared to prefer to the 
 longer and more strictly feminine name. 
 
 "Papa," she said, pushing away her plate, "you ain't 
 good company at all." 
 
 "Thank you for the compliment, Bert," he said. 
 
 "But you're not, though. There you are wearing out 
 your eyes over that stupid paper, and leaving me to talk 
 to myself or Topsy. Here, Topsy, isn't it so?" 
 
 At this summons a kitten, black as the ace of spades, 
 and very much addicted to fun and frolic, jumped into 
 the lap of her young mistress, and purred a noisy acquies- 
 cence. 
 
 ''There," said Bert triumphantly, "Topsy says I am 
 right. I don't know what I should do without Topsy." 
 
 "She makes a very suitable companion for you, Bert," 
 paid Mr. Bowman, smiling. 
 
 "Why?" asked the cat's mistress suspiciously. 
 
 "Because you can sympathize so well. Both are equally 
 mischievous, and it is very difficult to tell which knows 
 the most of books." 
 
 "Now you are laughing at me, papa. I know you are." 
 
 "Not entirely, Bert. The fact is, you are terribly ignor- 
 ant for one of your age." 
 
 "I suppose I am," said Bert, shaking her head in comic 
 despair. 
 
 "You'll grow up with no more knowledge than a Hot- 
 tentot." 
 
Bertha Bowman. 97 
 
 "Don't they have any schools among the Hottentots?" 
 
 "I suppose not." 
 
 "How delightful that must be ! Why can't we move 
 out where they live?" 
 
 "I don't know but we shall have to," said her father, 
 "as, hereabouts, young ladies are expected to know some- 
 thing about books. But that reminds me I don't know 
 but I shall succeed in engaging a governess for you to- 
 day." 
 
 "A governess to-day !" exclaimed Bert in dismay. 
 
 "Yes. I have made an appointment with a lady to call 
 here at nine o'clock, and, if I am satisfied with her, I 
 intend to engage her." 
 
 "And if I am satisfied with her," added Bert. 
 
 "Is that essential ?" asked her father, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, for you know she will be with me most of the 
 time. If she is like Julia Campbell's governess, I sha'n't 
 like her." 
 
 "Well, and what fault do you find with Julia Camp- 
 bell's governess?" asked Mr. Bowman, with more interest 
 than his tone conveyed; for he knew that if Bert did not 
 fancy her governess she would be a most incorrigible little 
 rebel, and would be likely to profit very little by her in- 
 structions. 
 
 "Oh, she's as disagreeable as she can be. In the first 
 place, she's an old maid — not that that's so very bad. In 
 fact, I've about made up my mind to be an old maid my- 
 eelf." 
 
&g Bertha Bowman. 
 
 "Indeed !" said Mr. Bowman, amused. "May I inquire 
 your reasons?" 
 
 ''Too numerous to mention." 
 
 "Perhaps one is, that you don't expect to have any 
 chance to change your name." 
 
 "I've had a chance already/' said Bert, in a matter-of- 
 fact Ume. 
 
 '•Had a chance already I" exclaimed her father, in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "Ye?," said the young lady of ten, "Charlie Morrill 
 offered himself the other day, and I refused him." 
 
 "What is the world coming to?" thought Mr. Bowman. 
 "Why did you refuse him?" 
 
 "Because," said Bert soberly, "I don't like the way he 
 parts his hair. But as for Julia's governess, I know she 
 never had an offer. She's as homely as — as — well, I don't 
 know who. Then she wears glasses, and has a nose ever 
 so long, and a long face, and she never smiles, and she 
 makes Julia study terrible hard." 
 
 And Bert drew a long breath. 
 
 "Xot a very charming picture, certainly," said Mr. 
 Bowmuu;: "but I'll promise you that, if the lady wha 
 applies for the post of governess to-day should be any- 
 thing like this, I won't engage her." 
 
 "That's right, papa. When do you expect her?" 
 
 "Let me see. She was to he here at nine, and now it 
 wants only ten minutes d that ' 'inc." 
 
Bertha Bowman. 99 
 
 "And you won't send me out of the room, papa, will 
 you ?" 
 
 Mr. Bowman hesitated. 
 
 "You know I am very anxious to see how she looks. 
 If I like her, I will make a sign to you, and then you can 
 engage her." 
 
 "What sign will you make, Bert?" asked her father, 
 amused, and yet alive to the necessity of securing his 
 daughter's acquiescence in his choice. 
 
 "I don't know," said Bert, reflecting ; "suppose I wink ?" 
 
 "And suppose the lady should see you winking at me? 
 What do you suppose she would think?" 
 
 "Oh, I could tell her afterward, you know, and she 
 would feel flattered, knowing it was a sign I liked her. 
 
 "She might not think it very ladylike in you." 
 
 "What's the use of being ladylike ? I don't want to be. 
 There's Florence Gates; I suppose she's ladylike. I'll 
 show you how she walks." 
 
 Bert imitated the gait of the young lady, swaying her- 
 self from side to side, as she walked with mincing step, 
 tossing her head, and exhibiting a caricature of the airs 
 and affectations which girls sometimes delight to display. 
 
 "Why, she wouldn't run for a thousand dollars," ex- 
 claimed Bert. "She would think it beneath her dignity. 
 If she is ladylike, I don't want to be. But, hark ! there 
 goes the bell. She's coming. Xow, papa, just remem- 
 ber, I shall wink if I like her, and if I don't I'll make up 
 a face." 
 
100 Bertha Bowman. 
 
 Bert transferred herself to an ottoman, and took Topsy 
 into her lap. 
 
 Both she and her father looked toward the door with 
 curiosity. 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 MRS. CODMAK'S GOOD FORTUNE. 
 
 Mrs. Codman had been carefully educated and was versed 
 in all the accomplishments which are considered indispen- 
 sable in a young lady's education. It was with no degree 
 of hesitation on this point, therefore, that she set out this 
 particular morning to present herself as an applicant for 
 the post of governess. Having no influential friends, how- 
 ever, and not being able to present references from a for- 
 mer employer — this being her first essay in this line — she 
 feared that her application would be unsuccessful. She 
 could not but feel a considerable degree of anxiety, for her 
 circumstances had become desperate, owing to the refusal 
 of her former employers to give her any more sewing. 
 
 She dressed herself as neatly as her limited wardrobe 
 would permit, and with hearty good wishes and many glow- 
 ing predictions of success from her humble friend, Mrs. 
 O'Grady, she set out. 
 
 Though some years past thirty, Mrs. Codman so far re- 
 tained the freshness of youth that she would hardly have 
 been taken for this age. As a girl she had been very beau- 
 tiful, and her womanhood did not belie her early promise. 
 101 
 
102 Mrs. Codman's Good Fortune. 
 
 Her attire, though not expensive, was in good taste and 
 characterized by a ladylike simplicity. 
 
 Such was the applicant for the post of governess, upon 
 whom the curious eyes of Bert and her father fell as she 
 was ushered into the breakfast-room by the servant, who 
 had received orders to do so. She entered the room with 
 the easy grace of a lady. Mr. Bowman at once recognized 
 her claim to be considered such by deferentially rising and 
 inviting her to be seated. 
 
 "If I mistake not," he said politely, "you are the lady 
 who has been recommended to me as possessing excellent 
 qualifications for the office of governess." 
 
 "Perhaps the recommendation was too strong and de- 
 cided," said Mrs. Codman modestly. "I shall be glad, 
 however, to be considered an applicant for the position." 
 
 Here Mr. Bowman, who chanced to glance at Bert, de- 
 tected her executing a surprising succession of winks, in- 
 dicating the favorable impression which had been made 
 upon her by the appearance of Mrs. Codman. 
 
 Already prepossessed in favor of the applicant, this was 
 an additional inducement to engage her, as her success 
 would depend, to a very great extent, upon the young lady's 
 good-will. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, "you feel prepared to teach the ac- 
 complishments usually included in the education of a 
 y©ung lady?" 
 
 Mrt*. Codman bowed. 
 
 "1 ain't a young lady." interrupted Bert, at this point, 
 
Mrs. Codman's Good Fortune. 103 
 
 who thought she was in imminent danger of becomiag too 
 learned. 
 
 "We hope you will he some time/' said Mr. Bowman. 
 
 In reply, Bert winked once more. 
 
 There was a piano in the room. 
 
 "Will you favor us with a specimen of your playing?" 
 asked Mr. Bowman. 
 
 Mrs. Codman sat down at the piano and played two 
 pieces, one slow in movement, the other rapid, showing a 
 nice touch and easy execution. 
 
 "Thank you," said Mr. Bowman. "I am inclined to 
 think that I shall be glad to avail myself of your services. 
 Should you be willing to engage for three months at first, 
 to see how we are mutually pleased with each other? The 
 pupil I have to offer you is a little addicted to mischief, and 
 I don't know how you may like her." 
 
 "I am quite willing to enter into such an arrangement /' 
 said Mrs. Codman; "and in reference to the last point, 
 I am quite sure I shall like my pupil. I begin to like her 
 already." 
 
 "Do you?" said Bert, with much satisfaction, rising 
 from the ottoman, and unceremoniously dropping the black 
 kitten, who turned a somerset and ran off shaking her 
 head. 
 
 In answer, Mrs. Codman held out hot hand with a smile. 
 
 Bert hurried across the room, and placed her own in 
 it confidingly. 
 
104 Mrs. Codman's Good Fortune. 
 
 "I am glad you do," said she. "You won't make me 
 study my eyes out, will you?" 
 
 "That would, indeed, be a pity," said Mrs. Codman, look- 
 ing at Bert's bright eyes, sparkling with fun and mischief. 
 
 Mr. Bowman observed these signs of agreement between 
 Bert and her new governess with pleasure, and hastened 
 to say : "In regard to business arrangements we will speak 
 by and by. I think I can promise that they will be satis- 
 factory to you." 
 
 It may be mentioned here that Mr. Bowman, who was 
 by no means disposed to deal parsimoniously with those 
 in his employ, fixed Mrs. Codman's salary at six hundred 
 dollars a year, which was four times as much as she had 
 ever been able to gain by her needle. 
 
 "When may we expect you?" he asked. "You have, 
 doubtless, some preliminary arrangements to make, for 
 which you will please take whatever time you may require. 
 Meanwhile, accept this sum in advance." 
 
 He drew from his pocketbook a fifty-dollar note, which 
 he handed to Mrs. Codman. She could not feel any em- 
 barrassment in accepting a sum so tendered, and, bowing 
 her thanks, intimated that she would make her appearance 
 on the following Monday, it being then Thursday. 
 
 The advance payment proved very acceptable to Mrs. 
 Codman, as with it she was enabled to replenish her ward- 
 robe, a step rendered necessary by her residence in Mr. 
 Bowman's family. She was busily engaged for the re- 
 mainder of the week in supplying its deficiencies. 
 
Mrs. Codman's Good Foftutu 105 
 
 No one could be more overjoyed than was the numble 
 washerwoman at the success of her friend, of which she 
 felt sure from the first, knowing Mrs. Codman to be a 
 "rale" lady. The latter, feeling that she owed her present 
 good fortune mainly to the zealous recommendation of her 
 friendly neighbor, purchased a neat dress, which Mrs. 
 O'Grady was prevailed upon to accept, on being convinced 
 she would not thereby be distressing herself, a fact of which 
 she was assured on being told of Mr, Bowman's liberality. 
 
 Yet there was one thought which contributed to dimin- 
 ish the joy which Mrs. Codman would otherwise have felt 
 at being restored, in a measure, to the mode of life to 
 which she had been accustomed, and relieved from the ne- 
 cessity of unremitting labor in order to sustain life. This 
 was the thought of Charlie, her own brave, handsome boy, 
 who had been the joy and life of her little household, now 
 gone — she knew not whither. 
 
 She was sustained, however, by a strong confidence that 
 he was yet living, and had little doubt that the suggestion 
 of Peter Manson was correct, that he had been carried off 
 by the captain of some vessel short of hands. Of course, 
 she did not for an instant harbor the suspicion that Peter 
 himself had had anything to do with his disappearance, be- 
 ing quite unaware that any motive existed powerful enough 
 to tempt the old man to such a crime. 
 
 "I shall hear from him ! I shall see him again," she 
 thought, with earnest conviction. "He is under the eye of 
 
106 Mrs. Codman's Good Fortune. 
 
 Providence, wherever he may be, and no harm shall befall 
 him." 
 
 Still, even with this strong feeling of trust, there was 
 an uncertainty about the time when her wishes couid be 
 realized, which could not fail to weigh upon the mother's 
 heart. Then there was the constant longing for his bright 
 and enlivening presence, greater, because he was her only 
 child, and she was a widow. 
 
 The furniture which Mrs. Codman had in her rooms she 
 was enabled to dispose of without a very great sacrifice. 
 She reserved a few articles, endeared to her by association, 
 which she stored in the room of her friendly neighbor. 
 
 With her, also, she left a sum of money sufficient to pay 
 for her month's rent, which would not be due for a fort- 
 night after her removal to the house of Mr. Bowman. Pe- 
 ter Manson was not a litle surprised and disappointed when, 
 on visiting his tenant — prepared to witness her distress and 
 hear entreaties for a reduction of her rent — to find her al- 
 ready gone, and to hear that she had obtained an advanta- 
 geous situation, though where he was unable to ascertain, 
 as Mrs. O'Grady, with whom he was no favorite, was not 
 disposed to be communicative. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CHARLIE CODMAN'S SEA-LIFE. 
 
 When the Bouncing Betsy was fairly out to sea, Captain 
 Brace, anticipating with the malicious delight which a 
 petty tyrant feels in the sufferings of those subject to him, 
 the grief and terror of his cabin-boy, ordered Charlie to be 
 released from his bonds and brought before him. This or- 
 der the mate chose to execute in person. 
 
 The pressure of the cords, with which the boy had been 
 bound, had chafed bis limbs, and the constraint of his posi- 
 tion had made them ache. 
 
 As the mate busied himself in unbinding him, Charlie 
 inquired, with a glimmering of hope: 
 
 "Are you going to let me go?" 
 
 "Where?" asked Randall. 
 
 "On shore." 
 
 "Perhaps you don't know that, by this time, we are at 
 least forty miles from Boston." 
 
 "Could you send me back?" asked Charlie, his heart 
 sinking within him. 
 
 "I suppose we might turn the ship about, and go back 
 for your accommodation," said the mate, with a sneer; 
 *'but I don't think Captain Brace would consent." 
 107 
 
108 Charlie Codman's Sea-Life. 
 
 "Is there no way?" implored Charlie. "Couldn't you 
 put me on board some ship going back?" 
 
 "You can speak to the captain about that. He has sent 
 for you. Come along, and don't be all day about it." 
 
 Charlie stretched himself with the intent of gaining some 
 relief from the confinement he had suffered, and prepared 
 to do what he knew there was no means of evading. Then 
 he followed Eandall to the presence of Captain Brace. 
 
 "Well, Jack," said Captain Brace, showing his teeth in 
 an unpleasant manner, "how do you like life on ship- 
 board?" 
 
 "My name is not Jack," was the boy's reply. 
 "Indeed ! Perhaps you will do me the favor to tell me 
 what it is." 
 
 "My name is Charlie Codman." 
 
 "So you pretend to be wiser than your uncle," said Cap- 
 tain Brace, looking toward the mate. 
 
 "He is not my uncle/' said Charlie boldly. If he had 
 felt it to be prudent, he would have added that he had 
 no desire for a relationship to Eandall, but he knew that 
 it would not be wise. 
 
 "Do you dare to contradict my first officer?" demanded 
 the captain, with a frown. 
 
 "I am only telling the truth," said Charlie undauntedly. 
 "Silencer roared the captain, in passion. "If he 
 chooses to call you his nephew, you shall be so; do you 
 hear that? I say do you hear that?" he repeated, pound- 
 ing with his clenched fist upon the table before him. 
 
Charlie Codman's Sea-Life. 109 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Take care that you remember it then. Your name, 
 henceforth, is Jack Eandall — at any rate, as long as you 
 remain aboard this ship." 
 
 "How long am I to remain on board, sir ?" Charlie could 
 not help asking. 
 
 "How long?" repeated the captain. "Forever, if I 
 choose. And now as this is the last conversation which I 
 intend to hold with you on this point, you will bear in 
 mind that you are shipped on board this vessel as a boy, 
 and that, if you don't do your duty, you'll get all that's 
 coming to you." 
 
 This was rather a hard trial for Charlie, accustomed to 
 a mother's gentle and affectionate words. Had he been 
 less manly, he would have burst into tears; but he only 
 turned pale a little, and bit his lips. 
 
 "Take him on deck, Mr. Randall, and set him to work," 
 said the captain; "and mind, Jack, that I don't hear any 
 complaints of you." 
 
 Charlie followed the mate to the deck. He had made 
 up his mind that he must stay in the ship during the 
 voyage, or, at all events, until they reached land some- 
 where, and resolved that, since it was forced upon him, he 
 would do his duty as well as he could, and so afford as 
 little advantage as possible to those who seemed de- 
 termined to persecute him. 
 
 He was set to work by Eandall, who told him, in a 
 
110 Charlie Codman's Sea- Life. 
 
 tone, to "mind his eye, and keep to work, it he 
 knew what was best for himself." 
 
 The work was not difficult, but Charlie's fingers were 
 unpracticed, and he might very soon have incurred the 
 wrath of the captain and mate if Bill Sturdy had not ap- 
 proached him, the mate being temporarily out of earshot, 
 and given him a little instruction. 
 
 'Well, my lad, what news?" inquired Bill. "Shipped 
 for the voyage, are you?" 
 
 "That's what the captain and mate say," returned 
 Charlie. 
 
 'They're a pair of precious rascals," said Bill, lower- 
 ing his voice, "and it's my opinion they're well matched, 
 so far as villainy goes." 
 
 "What m'ade you ship on board the vessel?" inquired 
 Charlie. 
 
 "Bless your soul, boy, I wouldn't 'a' done it if I'd 
 known who was in command ; leastways, if I had known 
 a little more about him. But I didn't ask any questions. 
 T had just got in from a v'y'ge to Calcutta, and happened 
 to see one of my old shipmates, Jim Davis, walking on the 
 wharf. 'Bill,' says he, 'why won't you ship along of meP 
 I asked him where he was bound, and lie telled me to Val- 
 paraiso, on board the Bouncing Betsy. 
 
 "Well, I've been most everywhere else, but I had never 
 been there, and reckoned I should like to see it. Besides, 
 I got tired of going to Calcutta. I've been there, man 
 and boy, six or eight times. It's too hot to live there 
 
Charlie Codman's Sea-Life. ill 
 
 some parts of the year. So I just told him I was in i'or 
 it if he was, provided there was a vacancy. I asked him 
 if he knew anything about the officers. He said he didn't, 
 but he guessed they would pass. So I just stepped into 
 the office and shipped. There, lad, that's the whole story. 
 I don't mind it much myself. They don't generally 
 meddle much with me." 
 
 "Have you sailed with bad captains before?" inquired 
 our hero. 
 
 "Yes, my lad, sometimes. One captain I sailed with — 
 I was a young man then — was Captain Maguire. He was 
 a sort of an Irishman, I surmise, and mighty fond of 
 drink. He was pleasant enough when he was sober, but 
 that wasn't often. When lie was drunk, he got into a 
 regular fury. He would tear around the deck like as if 
 he was crazy, and so he was after a fashion, for he didn't 
 seem to know, after he had got out of his fits, what he 
 had done when he was in "em. One day, I remember, as 
 I was at work, he came up to me, and gave me a terrible 
 thwack side of the head, swearing like a trooper all the 
 time/' 
 
 "What did you do?" asked Charlie, looking up with 
 ic . into the weatherbeaten face of the old sailor. 
 
 ■ ' oi," said Sturdy ; "you see I'm pretty 
 glancii g at his brawny arms and Herculean frame with 
 pardonable complacency. "I don't often meet a man I 
 can'1 manage as easily as the mate can manage you. ISTow 
 the captain wasn't a large man, by ai\y means, nor very 
 
112 Charlie Codman's Sea-Life. 
 
 strong, either. As to the mates, one of them was sick in 
 his berth, and the other was in another part of the ship; 
 so I just took the captain up in my arms, and carried him 
 down to the cabin, kickin' and cursin', as might be ex- 
 pected, and laid him down there. The officers didn't see 
 what was goin' on, or there'd have been trouble. As for 
 the crew, they enjoyed it all, and wouldn't a man of 'em 
 tell; and as the captain didn't remember anything about 
 it the next day, I didn't get punished." 
 
 "Did you ever get punished?" asked Charlie. 
 
 "Never since I grew up, and had these to fight my 
 way with," said Bill Sturdy, showing his fists, which 
 looked as if a blow from either of them would have killed 
 an ox. "No, my lad, these are what I call my sledge- 
 hammers, and I'd as soon have them to rely upon as a 
 pair of pistols." 
 
 At this point in the conversation Bill was called off to 
 some other part of the vessel, and the mate coming up 
 discovered, somewhat to his disappointment, that Charlie 
 had discharged his task in a manner which did not admit 
 of censure. 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 THE RIVAL CHAMPIONS. 
 
 It is customary to divide a ship's crew into two watches, 
 whose duty it is to alternate in keeping a lookout at night. 
 The first night-watch commences at eight o'clock and con- 
 tinues till midnight. This watch is then relieved by the 
 second, who have had an opportunity of sleeping in the 
 meantime, and who remain on duty till four a. m. They 
 then give place to the first, who are again on duty till 
 eight in the morning. Thus it will be seen that a part 
 of the crew have eight hours to sleep, while the remainder 
 have but four. This inequality, however, is remedied the 
 next evening, when the hours are changed. 
 
 Charlie was fortunate in one respect. He was placed 
 in the same watch with Bill Sturdy, who had established 
 himself, in some sort, as the boy's protector, and did not 
 scruple to avow it. When some of the crew began to tease 
 and play rough practical jokes upon Charlie — a mode of 
 treatment to which boys are frequently subjected on board 
 ship — Bill Sturdy interfered, and in a sonorous voice ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Look here, shipmates, don't lay a finger on this boy P 
 113 
 
314 The Rival Champions. 
 
 '"'And why not?" inquired a burly sailor, with naturally 
 repulsive features. 
 
 "Because I say so/' retorted Bill Sturdy. 
 
 ''Who is he, I should like to know, that we are to keep 
 our distance?" 
 
 •'Til tell you who he is, shipmates/" was the answer. 
 "He's a hoy that the mate has entrapped on board without 
 his own consent." 
 
 "Isn't he the mate's nephew?" 
 
 "No more than I am- though the mate chooses to call 
 him so. He's got a mother living in Boston, and he's her 
 only hoy. She doesn't know what has become of him. 
 Now, shipmates, he seems to b • a fine lad, and I'm going 
 to stand by him for his sake and his mother's." 
 
 Sailors are generous when you reach their hearts, and 
 there was a murmur of approbation when Bill concluded. 
 
 But there is no rule without an exception, and that ex- 
 ception was Antonio, the scowling sailor who has already 
 been mentioned. Few knew much about him. This was 
 his second voyage on board the Bouncing Betsy. Next to 
 Bill Sturdy, he was the stoutest and most athletic sailor 
 on board the ship. During the previous voyage he had 
 been the bully of the crew, taking advantage of his phys- 
 ical strength. Xow they were released from his tyranny. 
 In Bill Sturdy he had more than found his match. No 
 one. comparing the two men, could doubt that in a con- 
 odds would be decidedly in favor of Bill. 
 Antonio, who was a Spaniard by birth, could not help 
 
The Rival Champions, 115 
 
 seeing the changed state of affairs. Now, no one likes 
 to be eclipsed, and to see the authority passing from his 
 hands, into those of another. Certainly Antonio did not 
 behold this transfer with indifference. He could not 
 brook holding the second place, where the first had been 
 his. But how could he help it? Very evidently the opin- 
 ions of the crew favored Bill Sturdy; not only because 
 they believed him to excel Antonio in physical qualities, 
 which hold a high value in the eyes of a sailor, but be- 
 cause he had, as yet, shown no disposition to abuse his 
 power. 
 
 Antonio was resolved not to yield without a struggle, 
 and therefore determined to take the first occasion to pick 
 a quarrel with his rival, as this would give him an appor- 
 tunity to measure his strength with him. Antonio did 
 not see, what was evident to others, that his rival was 
 undeniably his superior in prowess. People are generally 
 6low to admit their own inferiority. That is only natural. 
 He hoped, therefore, that he should be able to reestablish 
 his supremacy by coming off a conqueror in the contest 
 which he had determined to do all in his power to bring 
 about. 
 
 Antonio's attention had not been especially called to 
 Charlie, until he heard Bill Sturdy avow his determina- 
 tion to take him under his protection. Then, in a spirit 
 of perverseness, and because he thought it would open the 
 way for the trial of strength which he courted, he resolved 
 to oppose him, and openly espouse the other side. 
 
116 The Rival Champions. 
 
 Accordingly, when the murmurs of applause, which had 
 been elicited by his rival's frank and generous appeal to 
 the sympathies of the crew, had subsided, Antonio looked 
 round on the rough faces which surrounded him, and 
 
 "Well, shipmates, are you going to submit to what this 
 fellow says? He dares you to touch this sniveling milk- 
 sop of a boy." 
 
 Some of the faces grew dark and threatening at this 
 representation. Nothing stirs up a sailor's heart to op- 
 position so readily as anything which resembles a threat. 
 
 Bill Sturdy hastened to reply. 
 
 "He is wrong. I don't threaten any of you. I only 
 ask if it is right to play tricks, and abuse a boy who has 
 already been treated so scurvily by the mate. I don't be- 
 lieve there's any one of you that wants to curry favor with 
 Mr. .Randall and the captain. Now there is nothing they 
 will like better than to see j'ou kicking round this lad." 
 
 Neither the captain nor the mate stood very high in the 
 good graces of the crew, and the effect produced by this 
 statement showed that it was adroitly conceived. 
 
 Bill Sturdy took advantage of this to add, "Now, lads, 
 when I say I am going to stand by this boy, and see that 
 he isn't abused, I know you'll stand by me." 
 
 This frank and bold speech produced a decided reaction 
 in favor of Charlie. 
 
 There was another murmur of approbation, which was 
 
The Rival Champions. 117 
 
 interrupted by a stamp upon the deck by Antonio, who, 
 with a ferocious contortion of countenance shouted: 
 
 "If you're all going to follow this man's lead, and do 
 like dogs whatever he bids you, you'll find there's one here 
 that dares to be independent." 
 
 Saying this, he advanced suddenly to Charlie, who was 
 at work near-by, and, seizing him by the shoulder, was 
 about to proceed to some act of violence. 
 
 As soon as Bill Sturdy perceived his design, he sprang 
 forward and gave him a powerful blow which would have 
 felled him to the deck, had not Bill slipped a little as he 
 delivered it. 
 
 Instantly the Spaniard's sallow face was suffused, and, 
 with a torrent of oaths and a howl of fury, he precipitated 
 himself upon Sturdy. 
 
 But it was easier to catch a weasel asleep, than to take 
 the stout sailor unprepared. 
 
 With his feet firmly planted upon the deck, and his fists 
 in a proper position, he received the bully, parrying his 
 blows with wonderful dexterity, and succeeding in plant- 
 ing others no less effective. 
 
 A ring of sailors gathered around, eager to watch the 
 progress and termination of the affray. There were not a 
 few among them who enjoyed the punishment which they 
 foresaw the Spaniard would receive from his antagonist. 
 He had so tyrannized over them in the past that they felt 
 little sympathy for him now. 
 
 Baffled, blinded, and howling with mingled rage and 
 
118 The Rival Champions. 
 
 vexation, the Spaniard continued the unequal fight. As 
 for Bill Sturdy, he was cool and collected, apparently 
 neither angry nor excited, but wary and on the alert. 
 
 At length Antonio, perceiving a marlin-spike at a lit- 
 tle distance, sprang toward it. It was a critical moment 
 for Bill Sturdy, for a marlin-spike, in the hands of a 
 furious and determined man, is a formidable weapon. 
 
 His movement did not escape the notice of Sturdy, who 
 had acted principally on the defensive thus far, but he 
 now saw that something decisive must be done. 
 
 Springing forward, he closed with his assailant, lifted 
 him from the deck, and, carrying him to the companion- 
 way, hurled him down-stairs. 
 
 Then, turning to the crew, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Shipmates, I call you to witness that this quarrel was 
 forced upon me. Have I done right or wrong?" 
 
 "Right !" exclaimed all, in concert. 
 
 At this moment the mate, attracted by the noise came 
 on deck. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ANTOKIO S RESOLVE. 
 
 "What has been going on?" asked Randall, perceiving, 
 from the position of the sailors and their looks, that some- 
 thing had happened. What it was he surmised, having 
 heard something of the noise of the conflict. 
 
 No one of the sailors spoke, but all looked at each other 
 in hesitating silence. 
 
 "What was it? Are you all deaf?" demanded the mate 
 impatiently. 
 
 "A little fight, that is all, Mr. Randall," answered Bill 
 Sturdy, coolly hitching up his pants. 
 
 "And you were one of the parties?" 
 
 "I believe I was." 
 
 "And who was the other?" 
 
 "Antonio." 
 
 "And where is he now?" 
 
 "He has gone below," said Bill in a significant tons. 
 
 "What was the fight about?" inquired Randall, who 
 in ordinary cases, would not have cared to pursue the sub- 
 ject further, but had an undefined idea that it was in Borne 
 way connected with the boy, for whom he felt no peculiar 
 afeetion. 
 
 119 
 
120 Antonio's Resolve. 
 
 "The fact is," said Bill Sturdy, "Antonio undertook 
 to abuse that lad there," pointing to Charlie ; "and I ain't 
 one to stand by and see a boy abused. Besides," he added, 
 with a latent humor which all understood, though he did 
 not- allow it to alter the gravity of his countenance, "I 
 knew he was your nephew, and that made me the more 
 anxious to defend him." 
 
 Eandall was placed in an awkward predicament. He 
 could not deny that Charlie was his nephew after his ex- 
 press declaration to that effect, while at the same time the 
 relationship which he claimed was far from exciting, in 
 his own mind, any attachment for the boy. Still it closed 
 his mouth for the time. He only muttered, in an under- 
 tone, that the boy must fight his own battles, and disap- 
 peared from the deck. 
 
 'Fight his own battles!" repeated Sturdy indignantly. 
 "A pretty sort of an uncle he is, to match a boy of four- 
 teen against a grown man, and a strong one, at that. 
 However," added Sturdy complacently, "the lad's got a 
 friend that is a match for Antonio at any time." 
 
 "That he has," answered a comrade; "but I say, Bill, 
 I couldn't help laughing to see how you made that old 
 shark shut up his mouth by telling him it was his nephew 
 you were fighting for. It made him mad, but he didn't 
 know what to say against it." 
 
 "His nephew ! No, Jack, it's well the lad isn't any 
 kith or kin of his. A drop of his blood would be enough 
 +~ spile a decent lad." 
 
Antonio's Resolve. 1.31 
 
 "Aye, that it would." 
 
 Presently Antonio came on deck with a sullen air, half 
 defiance, half of humiliation, at his recent defeat. He 
 smarted under the conviction, that henceforth his author- 
 ity among the crew would be small. Hitherto he had been 
 the champion and bully of the quarter-deck, and although 
 the crew had no liking for him, but rather a decided feel- 
 ing of an opposite nature, yet strength and prowess always 
 command a certain rude respect among sailors, and that 
 respect he enjoyed. But now all was changed. He had 
 been beaten, and that in a fair fight, where all could see 
 that no underhand means had been employed. Strength 
 had been matched against strength, and he had come of! 
 second best. That had been a Waterloo day to him, and 
 he knew that he returned to the deck no longer the same 
 man so far as consideration went. 
 
 Bill Sturdy was a generous antagonist. He had no 
 idea of indulging in exultation over his vanquished foe, 
 but treated him as if nothing had happened. 
 
 But Antonio's resentment was deep and implacable. 
 He thirsted for revenge, and determined to lull to sleep 
 the suspicions of his late opponent, until some opportunity 
 should present itself for an effectual and safe revenge. 
 
 According he suddenly recovered from his sullenness P 
 and made some half-advances toward Sturdy, which the 
 latter met, but not without reserve. 
 
 "I can't kind o' feel as if the feller was to be trusted," 
 said Bill to Charlie one evening as they were alone to- 
 
122 Antonio's Resolve. 
 
 gether. "There's something in Lis eye that I don't like; 
 a sort of deceitful gleam, as if there was something cov- 
 ered up that he didn't like to show. For my part, I like 
 to he fair and ahoveboard, and show just what I am. 
 
 "I'm sorry you have made an enemy of the man on my 
 account," said Charlie. 
 
 "Avast, my lad, do you think I was going to stand still 
 and let him abuse } 7 ou? Thank Heaven, old Bill Sturdy, 
 isn't such a lubber as that." 
 
 "But he may do you an injury yet, Bill." 
 
 "Let him come within the reach of my arm/' said Bill, 
 swinging his brawny right arm as he would a fiail, "I 
 guess he wouldn't want to try it again." 
 
 "But he may take you at advantage." 
 
 "He will have to get up early in the morning, then," 
 said Sturdy, in a tone of confidence. "No lubberly for- 
 eigner is likely to get ahead of Bill Sturdy, I can tell 
 you that, my lad." 
 
 Both Bill and Charlie supposed that they were alone, 
 and that this conversation was unheard by any other per- 
 son, but in this they were mistaken. 
 
 On the other side of the mast crouched the dark figure 
 of a man, who seemed to be listening intently to the con- 
 versation between the two. He remained very quiet, fear- 
 ing, doubtless, that he should be observed. Evidently 
 what he heard did not affect him pleasantly. His brow 
 contracted, and a scowl of hatred made his features look 
 
Antonio's Resolve. 123 
 
 even more dark and forbidding than was their wont, es- 
 pecial!}' when Bill Sturdy made use of the last expression, 
 his face exhibited a concentrated malice which could only 
 have been generated in a heart full of evil passions. 
 
 He ground his white teeth together and muttered to 
 himself, as he crept cautiously from his place of conceal- 
 ment, and made his way to his hunk in the forecastle. 
 
 "We shall see, we shall see. No man shall insult and 
 triumph over me without repenting of it. He shall know, 
 some time, what it is to excite the vengeance of a desper- 
 ate man. He thinks the lion has become a lamb. He will 
 find out his mistake." 
 
 Unconscious of the concealed listener to their discourse, 
 Bill Sturdy and Charlie continued their conversation. In 
 the hour of darkness, when night broods upon the ocean, 
 and no sound is to be heard save the dashing of the waves 
 against the sides of the vessel, the sailor who is obliged 
 to stand his watch would find the hours pass wearily if it 
 were not for some method of killing the time. Among 
 these is the spinning of yarns, for which sailors are so 
 noted. This it was that occurred to Bill, as he stood with 
 Charlie leaning over the side. 
 
 "I say, my lad, suppose we spin a yarn apiece, and that 
 will make the time pass quicker." 
 
 "But I am not an old sailor, Bill ; I don't know any- 
 thing about spinning yarns." 
 
 "Tush, lad, I don't expect a salt-water yarn from you. 
 I want a land yarn. I am sure you have read a good many, 
 
124 Antonio's Resolve. 
 
 and can think of one now. Just lead off, and when you 
 get through I'll try my hand at it." 
 
 Thus adjured, Charlie said: "Let me think a min- 
 ute." 
 
 Bill leaned over the rail in silent expectation. 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 Charlie's land yarn - . 
 
 Charlie deliberated a moment, when he chanced to think 
 of Nicholas Nickleby, the only one of Dickens' works he 
 had ever read, and which, as it had interested him exceed- 
 ingly, had impressed itself upon his remembrance. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of Nicholas Nickleby, Bill?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes," was Bill's unexpected response; "when I was at 
 Liverpool three years ago, she was lying alongside our 
 ship." 
 
 "She !" exclaimed Charlie, in amazement. 
 
 "Yes," answered Sturdy, in a matter-of-fact tone; "she 
 was a very good craft, and was in the West India trade. 
 I saw considerable of her, being as how I got acquainted 
 with Tom Seagrove, one of the men on board." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I see what you mean," said Charlie; "but I 
 don't mean a ship, I mean a story of the same name." 
 
 "No, I never heard of it. Named after the ship, like 
 enough." 
 
 Charlie thought it more probable that the vessel was 
 named after the story, but as this was a point of little im- 
 portance to the present occasion, he passed it by, and con- 
 125 
 
126 Charlie's Land Yarn 
 
 tinued: "Well, Bill, it's a very interesting story, and as 
 I remember that about as well as anything I ever read, I 
 believe I will tell you a part of it." 
 
 "Heave ahead, my lad.'"' 
 
 "You must know that this Nicholas Nickleby was a 
 young man whose father died when he was about nine- 
 teen, leaving him very little money, but a mother and sis- 
 ters to provide for. He had an old uncle, Ralph, who was 
 very rich, but an old rascal, who didn't trouble himself 
 about his poor relations." 
 
 "That's the way with 3 good many rich people," said 
 Bill. "They leave the smaller craft to shift for them- 
 selves." 
 
 "However, on being applied to he did manage to get the 
 sister a place in a millinery establishment, and, as for 
 Nicholas, he got him a place as assistant teacher in a coun- 
 try boarding-school." 
 
 "He was a sort of first mate in the school, wasn't he?" 
 
 "Well, something like that, only he didn't fare half so 
 well as a mate or any kind of an officer. All the old fel- 
 low gave him for his services was about twenty-five dollars 
 a year and board/' 
 
 "What made him ship on board the craft, then?" 
 
 "It was the only chance he had, so he thought he'd take 
 it till he could find a better." 
 
 'What was the captain's name," asked Bill, who stuck 
 to his marine phraseology. 
 
 "His name was Squeers, and a tough old fellow he was. 
 
Charlie's Land Yarn. 127 
 
 He bad some thirty or forty boarding-scholars, whom he 
 treated shamefully. In the first place, he didn't allow 
 them enough to rat." 
 
 "Why didn't they mutiny, and pitch the lubber over- 
 board?" exclaimed Bill indignantly. 
 
 "Because be had starved the spirit out of them. Ik- 
 sides, they were mostly small, and he had a wife as bad 
 as himself, as well as a daughter who was " 
 
 "A chip of the old bloc] 
 
 ''Exactly. Do you want to know how he took away their 
 appetites so that they wouldn't eat so much? He used to 
 make them swallow a spoonful of boiling hot molasses, 
 which scalded their throats, and made it bard for them to 
 swallow." 
 
 "I'd like to have overhauled him," said Sturdy. 
 
 "If you bad, I don't believe there'd have been much left 
 of him, for be was a spindling sort of a man, tall and thin." 
 
 "And bow did the young fellow like bis place?" 
 
 "Not very much. He found they were going to half- 
 starve him, too. However, he wouldn't have minded that 
 so much as seeing the poor children abused. While all 
 this was going on, the school-master's daughter fell in love 
 with him." 
 
 "Was she pretty?" 
 
 "No," said Charlie. "She was the image of her father, 
 and he wasn't anything of a beauty. She was thin, with 
 a hatchet face and yellow hair. However, she continued 
 to make herself think that Nicholas was in love with her, 
 
128 Charlie's Land Yarn. 
 
 and one day, when her father and mother wtae gone ti> 
 London to get a new scholar, she posted off to a female 
 friend of hers, and told her that she had got a heau, and 
 invited her friend and her beau to come to tea. When tea- 
 time came, there they all were in the sitting-room, drinking 
 tea, and faring a great deal better than Nicholas had before 
 since he had been at the school, when the other young lady 
 and her beau began to poke fun at Nicholas, all on account 
 of Matilda Squeers, whom they supposed him to be in love 
 with. He didn't understand it at all, and told them so. 
 
 " 'Why/ said John Brodie — that was the other girl's 
 beau — 'ain't you courtin' Tilda, h^re ?' Nicholas protested 
 that he never so much as thought of the thing. At this, 
 Matilda turned all sorts of colors, for she had confidently 
 told both of them that he was in love with her, and, be- 
 sides, she had no idea that a poor, underpaid teacher would 
 think of refusing her, the ,T 
 
 "Captain's daughter," suggested Bill Sturdy. 
 
 "Exactly so. So you see the tea-party didn't end quite 
 so pleasantly as it began, and from that moment Nicholas 
 had a bitter enemy in the daughter of his employer/' 
 
 "That's the way with female craft," said Bill. "What 
 happened next?" 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Squeers came home, bringing the new 
 boy with them. The first thing they did was to give a 
 whipping all round, to make up for the time they'd been 
 awav." 
 
Charlie's Land Yarn. 129 
 
 "I wish I'd been there/' said Bill, swinging his brawny 
 arms. 
 
 "Among the scholars was one, worse treated than the 
 rest, named Smike. He had been with them ever since 
 he was a boy of six or eight, and his friends had deserted 
 him. Mr. Somers would have cast him off, only he found 
 his work more than paid for the scanty food he ate, so he 
 kept him; but he was so beaten and cuffed, and made to 
 drudge so constantly, that it would have been better for him 
 if he had been turned away. At last he determined to run 
 away." 
 
 "Good for him !" said Bill. 
 
 "As soon as Mr. Squeers found he was gone, he went 
 after him post-haste, and, as the boy was weak and couldn't 
 travel very fast, he soon overtook him, and brought him 
 hack, bound hand and foot, in the chaise. He suspected 
 that Nicholas had helped Smike to escape, so he determined 
 to inflict a cruel punishment upon him in the presence of 
 his assistant. Accordingly, he armed himself with a large 
 whip, and, calling all the school together, he told Smike 
 to strip, and was just about to lay the whip on his naked 
 back when Nicholas shouted out, 'Stop !' Squeers glared 
 round, and said, in a fierce voice, 'Who said that?' 'I said 
 it,' said Nicholas; 'I tell you, stop!' Squeers turned white 
 with rage, and threatened to whip Nicholas, also. He was 
 about to commence the punishment, when Nicholas sprang 
 from his seat, and, pulling the whip from his hand, knocked 
 Squeers over, and began to belabor him with his own whip." 
 
180 Charlie's Land Yarn. 
 
 "Good !" exclaimed Bill, who had become much interested 
 in the narrative. "I hope he made him scream for mere}'." 
 
 "So he did, and Nicholas kept on belaboring him, not- 
 withstanding Mrs. Squeers and her daughter went at him 
 tooth and nail, and tried to pull him off. But he was so 
 excited with anger that he felt strong enough to cope with 
 half a dozen, and never left off till Squeers was black and 
 blue and aching all over." 
 
 "Hurrah for Nicholas!" shouted Bill Sturdy, in great 
 delight at the schoolmaster's discomfiture. "What hap- 
 pened next?" 
 
 "Nicholas packed up his alothes and left the house, but 
 took care to carry Smike ^rith him, knowing that he would 
 otherwise fare badly." 
 
 "And what became of Nicholas afterward? Did he reach 
 port ?" 
 
 "He met with a variety of adventures, but at length be- 
 came rich and happy." 
 
 "That's a pretty good yarn," said Bill Sturdy. "I should 
 have liked to help him whip the schoolmaster, though/' 
 
 "Now, Bill, I am ready to hear your yarn," said Charlie, 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BILL STURDY'' S STORY. 
 
 After pausing a moment to collect his ideas, Bill Sturdy 
 commenced his story. 
 
 "It was, mayhap, twelve years ago, or it might have 
 been thirteen, since I sailed from New York in the ship 
 Peregrine, bound for Havana," said Sturdy. "The Pere- 
 grine was quite a sizable ship, and I expected a pleasant 
 voyage, as the captain was a frank, good-humored-looking 
 man. So he was when he was in his sober senses ; but, un- 
 fortunately, this wasn't always the case. However, lie used 
 to keep pretty straight when he was at home, for if he had 
 shown himself out it might have been hard for him to get 
 employment. If Jack gets drunk it's no serious damage 
 to the ship, but if the chief officer, to whom all look for 
 commands, allows himself to drink too much, especially 
 when a storm threatens, it's a pretty bad matter. You see, 
 my lad, that when a captain is drunk, he doesn't generally 
 know it himself, and is apt to think that he is perfectly 
 able to manage the ship. 
 
 "Well, Captain Harvey, for that was his name, was an 
 excellent seaman, when he was sober. He was a thorough 
 sailor, and knew every rope in the ship. But, as it hap- 
 131 
 
132 Bill Sturdy 's Story. 
 
 pened, it would have been better if we had had a captain 
 who knew less and kept sober. 
 
 "Captain Harvey kept pretty straight at first, as I was 
 saying, and we men began to like him. He was a pleasant- 
 spoken man, though he meant to be obeyed when he gave 
 an order. I liked him all the better, because the captain 
 I had gone with last was a different kind of man. It 
 wasn't always a word and a blow with Captain Lafarge, 
 but oftentimes the blow came first. Well, times seemed 
 changed, and that was what I was saying to a messmate of 
 mine, who had sailed with me under the other captain, 
 when Captain Harvey came on deck. That was the third 
 day out ; his face looked unusually red, and his eyes blood- 
 shot. He staggered up to us, gave me a blow side of the 
 head as he said, or, rather, hiccuped, for he couldn't speak 
 very plain: 'Wh — what are you — hie — doing there, you 
 rascal ?' 
 
 "Now, my lad, I'm not one to stand a blow very patient- 
 ly; I'm rather apt to resent it, and so I should this time, 
 but as I looked up I saw how matters stood, and that took 
 away my anger. I liked Captain Harvey, and I knew that 
 when he was right he would never think of giving me a 
 blow without any cause, so I didn't do anything, but an- 
 swered, as respectful as I could: 
 
 " 'I hope I am doing my duty, Captain Harvey.' 
 
 " 'You lie,' he stuttered again. 
 
 "I did not feel called upon to give any answer to this 
 
Bill Sturdy 's Story. 133 
 
 charge. It was as well that I didn't, for he waited a min- 
 ute and then left me. 
 
 "Well, this was the first that any of us knew of the cap- 
 tain's habits. We were all sorry, even those that liked to 
 drink themselves, for this was the only fault we could de- 
 tect in our chief officer, and it was a pretty serious one, a8 
 it turned out. I told you, didn't I, that we were bound 
 for Havana?" 
 
 "Yes," said Charlie. 
 
 "Well, it sometimes happens that there are violent storms 
 in those latitudes, and the coast is dangerous to approach. 
 Time passed, and although Captain Harvey would have his 
 blow-out now and then, yet there had been no particular 
 damage so far, perhaps because we had had pretty quiet 
 weather. Now, however, we had got into the region of 
 gales, and we all hoped the captain would keep sober. But 
 that wasn't to be. 
 
 "One morning, I remember, we had a powerful gale. 
 The ship was behaving pretty well under it. She was a 
 stanch craft, when we started, and bade fair to see a great 
 many years' service. So, on the whole, we didn't feel un- 
 easy till the captain came on deck. We saw at once that 
 he was drunk, a good deal drunk, and not fit to take care 
 of the ship. He staggered up to the mate, and asked him 
 how fast the ship was going. 
 
 "The mate reported, ten knots an hour. 
 
 " 'Ten knots an hour V repeated the captain contemptu- 
 ously. 'Is that all? W T e must go faster.' 
 
134 Bill Sturdy 's Story. 
 
 " 'But, Captain Harvey,' said the mate, 'there is a vio- 
 lent gale. Do you think it prudent to increase our speed T 
 
 " 'Prudent !' thundered the captain, 'do you think I 
 would give the order if I didn't think so? Not a word 
 more, hut call all hands, and make sail.' 
 
 "Nothing was to be done but to obey. Accordingly the 
 reefs were let out of the topsails, the topgallant-sails set, 
 and even the foretopmast studding-sail. Now, my lad, al- 
 though you are not much of a sailor, you can understand 
 that it was perfect madness to carry so much sail in such 
 a tempest. I knew at once what would happen, and pre- 
 pared for the worst. There was a hencoop lying on deck, 
 and I resolved that if the worst should come to the worst 
 I would spring for that. 
 
 "The worst did come to the worst. The ship pitched 
 about like a mad thing, and creaked and groaned as if she 
 were a human being in the greatest distress, and I can tell 
 you the sailors looked black enough. We felt that our lives 
 were being risked, and all for the intemperance of one 
 man. That scene cured me of drinking grog. I haven't 
 drank a drop since." 
 
 "Did anything happen to the ship ?" 
 
 "Yes, my lad, something did happen to the ship. A 
 heavy sea struck her amidships, and pitched her over upon 
 her side. After we recovered, we found that she was 
 etrained severely and leaking badly. Well, the end of it 
 
Bill Sturdy 's Story. 135 
 
 ,v»o that we had to abandon her. The rest of the crew- 
 got into the boats, but there wasn't fairly room, and they 
 were so overloaded that I thought I would be safer trust- 
 ing to the old hencoop. They tried to get me into a boat, 
 but I had a kind of suspicion that they wouldn't live. So 
 I stuffed all my pockets with biscuit, filled a tin measure 
 with water, and trusted myself to the hencoop." 
 
 "Did the boats live?" inquired Charlie, with interest. 
 
 "Not a single one. They were never heard from again. 
 No doubt they all went down in the storm. Well, my lad, 
 it wasn't the pleasantest thing pitching about on a hencoop 
 on the wild sea, fifty miles, at least, from land. But my 
 hope was that I should be seen by some vessel bound for 
 Havana. In that case I knew I would be safe. I had 
 provisions enough to last me three days, and I could make 
 my water last as long by being sparing of it. I had to 
 hold on to the hencoop pretty tight, or I should have been 
 washed off by some of the heavy seas. Of course I got 
 completely drenched by the salt water, and, what was 
 worse, the biscuit got drenched, too, which didn't improve 
 its taste, I can tell you. 
 
 "So I tossed about for twenty-four hours. By this time 
 the gale had gone down, and the sea was more quiet. It 
 was at this time that, casting my eyes about to see if I 
 could anywhere catch sight of a sail, I descried one ap- 
 parently making toward me," 
 
 "Weren't you delighted ?" 
 
136 Bill Sturdy 's Story. 
 
 "I was at first," said Bill, "but as she came nearer I 
 tried not to attract her notice." 
 
 "Why?" asked Charlie, in great surj>rise. 
 
 "Because, my lad, I recognized in her the Red Hover, 
 one of the most noted pirates that cruised in those seas." 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 THE PIRATE SHIP. 
 
 "How did you know she was a pirate ?" inquired Charlie. 
 
 "I suspected her in the first place from her rakish look. 
 All pirate ships, you know, are made for speed. Besides, 
 this particular ship had been described to me by a mess- 
 mate who had once been on board a ship that was chased 
 by her, though, luckily, before the pirate had a chance 
 to overhaul her, two other vessels came in sight and fright- 
 ened her away. 
 
 "As soon as I made out the approaching vessel to be 
 the Bed Rover, I repented bitterly the signs by which I 
 had drawn her attention. I ceased making signals, but 
 it was too late. She had already seen me, and a boat 
 was filling with men to take me on board. Finding I 
 could not well help myself, I concluded to make the best 
 of it, and not show any objection to going with the boat's 
 crew. So when they came near and hailed me, asking 
 me who I was, I answered as heartily as I could, 'Bill 
 Sturdy, of the good ship Peregrine, bound for Havana.' 
 
 " 'And what's become of your ship ?' 
 
 " 'Gone to the bottom,' I answered. 
 
 " 'How long since ?' 
 
 137 
 
138 The Pirate Ship. 
 
 " 'About twenty-four hours/ 
 
 " 'How did it happen V 
 
 "In reply, T told all the circumstances, without reserve, 
 for concealment would have done no good. There was a 
 little consultation on board the boat, and then the officer 
 in command brought it up alongside my hencoop, and 
 ordered me aboard. 
 
 "This I did with as much alacrity as possible, and I 
 tell you, my lad, it did seem good once more to be in 
 a boat, even though it belonged to a pirate, after pitch- 
 ing about on a hencoop for twenty-four hours. 
 
 "Now that I had a chance, I looked at the men that 
 manned the boat. They were villainous-looking cutthroats 
 — mostly Spaniards, with dark, lowering faces and for- 
 bidding expressions. I couldn't help turning it over in 
 my mind what they would be likely to do with me. 
 
 "It didn't take long to reach the pirate vessel. Those 
 on board pressed forward, as I came up and got on deck. 
 They were all pretty much alike. The captain was a large, 
 stout, muscular man, though I believe," added Bill, with 
 some complacency, "that I could have got the better of 
 him in a regular rough-and-tumble fight. However, this 
 isn't neither here nor there. He came up to me and made 
 me answer over again the same questions which had been 
 asked me before. I answered them in the same way. 
 After he had got through with his questions, he fixed his 
 sharp, black eyes on me, and inquired: 'Do you know; 
 the name of the ship that has picked you up ?' 
 
The Pirate Ship. 139 
 
 ** 'I do,' said I coolly, thought I didn't feel as cool as I 
 appeared. 
 
 " 'Ha !' he exclaimed, in surprise. °What is it V 
 
 " 'It is the Red Rover,' said I, making believe to be un- 
 concerned. 
 
 " 'And are you acquainted with its character ?' said the 
 captain, with another of his sharp looks. 
 
 " 'I believe so/ said I. 
 
 " 'Name it.' 
 
 " 'I think it is a pirate,' said I, not moving a muscle. 
 
 " 'Ha !' he exclaimed, looking at me rather curiously. 
 'Are you not afraid to find yourself on board a pirate?' 
 
 " 'Why should I be ?' I answered. 'But for you I should 
 have died on the hencoop, and I suppose, if you had meant 
 to take away my life, you wouldn't have taken the trouble to 
 save me, since death was certain.' 
 
 " 'A bold fellow !' said the captain, aside, to the mate. 
 He spoke in the Spanish language, but I had managed to 
 pick up some odd phrases in that lingo, so I knew what he 
 was driving at. The mate seemed to agree, and they talked 
 a little more. I didn't understand, but guessed it was 
 about me. 
 
 "The pirate captain, after a short confab with the mate, 
 turned round and spoke to me. 'Well, my man,' said he, 
 *I don't mind telling you that you've hit the mark in 
 guessing that this is the Red Rover, and a pirate. I be- 
 lieve she has made something of a reputation for herself,' 
 he added proudly. 
 
140 The Pirate Ship. 
 
 "I bowed. 
 
 " 'Now, I have a proposal to make to you. We're rather 
 short-handed. We need two or three brave fellows, and I 
 am inclined to think, from your bearing, that you will 
 suit us. Now, if you would like it, you shall be admitted 
 to equal privileges with the rest of the crew, with an equal 
 share of whatever booty we manage to pick up, and that, 
 I may tell you, is not small. Here, Eoderigo, step for- 
 ward, and tell this man how much your share was last 
 year/ 
 
 "Eoderigo, a villainous-looking fellow, stepped forward 
 and answered: 'Nearly two thousand dollars in goods 
 and money.' 
 
 " 'You see, then, what are the inducements. Will you 
 join us or not?' 
 
 "Now, I very well knew what the consequences of my 
 refusal would be, so I replied, without a moment's hesita- 
 tion, 'I will.' " 
 
 "What, did you become a pirate?" asked Charlie, hor- 
 ror struck. 
 
 "Pretty much in the same way that you became a sailor, 
 my lad ; because I couldn't help it." 
 
 "And did you join in robbing vessels, and killing all 
 on board?" 
 
 "Hold on, my lad ; you're a little too fast for me. You'll 
 know in due time. The pirate captain seemed pleased 
 with my promptness, and made me sign the books. I 
 should have given a wrong name, only I had given the 
 
The Pirate Ship. 141 
 
 right one when I was hailed, though, for that matter, 
 Sturdy isn't my right name. The captain told me, in a 
 very polite sort of way, that if I should undertake to play 
 them false, or interfere with them in any way, I should 
 be pitched overboard. As this threat did not seem to 
 trouble me much, he seemed to be satisfied that it was all 
 right with me. In the course of a day or two, I got ac- 
 quainted with the crew. They were mostly Spaniards, 
 but there was a sprinkling of other nations — French, 
 Banes, Germans, and one Englishman/' 
 
 "Were there any Yankees?" 
 
 "No, I'm proud to say there wasn't one except myself, 
 and I wasn't there of my own free will. Piracy doesn't 
 chime in with our Yankee notions, and it's my belief 
 you'll find precious few full-blooded Yankees that are en- 
 gaged in the business." 
 
 "How did you get out of their clutches ?" asked Charlie. 
 
 "That's what I'm coming to by and by. For a few clays 
 we didn't meet a vessel, or, at least, one that was alone, 
 and so would do to attack. I was glad of that, for I was 
 ready enough to do my duty on board the ship, but I knew 
 that, just as soon as we met a vessel, I should be expected 
 to do my share of the fighting, and it went against my 
 grain to engage in any such villainous business as that. 
 However, I thought I wouldn't borrow trouble, but wait 
 til lit came, and then I could decide what to do. 
 
 "At last I heard the cry I so much dreaded, 'Sail hoi' 
 
142 The Pirate Ship. 
 
 from one of the crew, who had been sent aloft to give no- 
 tice of an approaching vessel. 
 
 "jWhere away?' shouted the pirate captain. 
 
 " 'To the eastward/ 
 
 "Orders were at once given to change the course of the 
 vessel, and to make for the stranger. As soon as she saw 
 us she made every effort to get away, but the Red Rover 
 was too swift for her. When we got within a short dis- 
 tance, I made out the vessel to be the Sally Ann, which, 
 had left port about the time the Peregrine did. I knew 
 some of those on board very well, and the captain was an. 
 old schoolmate of mine. 
 
 " •'What would they think/ I couldn't help saying to 
 myself, with a groan, 'if they knew their old messmate wag 
 regularly enrolled among the crew of the pirate that is 
 overhauling them ?' " 
 
CHAPTER XXIT. 
 
 HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A PIRATE. 
 
 Bill Sturdy paused to take a whiff at his pipe,, and 
 then resumed his story, in which Charlie manifested no 
 6light interest. 
 
 "I was taken all aback," he continued, "when I found 
 it was the Sally Ann I was expected to join hands with 
 the piratee against. I couldn't help thinking of the 
 many pleasant hours I had spent on board that vessel, 
 chatting and spinning yarns with the crew. What to do 
 I didn't know. 
 
 "The pirates were already clearing for action, and all 
 seemed as busy as bees. You ought to have seen the eager 
 look there was on their villainous faces, as they watched 
 the Sally Ann, just, for all the world, like a crafty spider 
 lying in wait for a fat fly. 
 
 "Just then the captain came up to where I was stand- 
 ing and fixed his sharp glance on me. 'Now, my man/ 
 said he, 'here's a chance for you to distinguish yourself. 
 That vessel will no doubt prove a rich prize. Do your 
 duty like a man in the coming engagement and you shall 
 have a pond share of the spoils. If you don't, or if you 
 ^rove fa'*"* *o us, you know your fat* 
 143 
 
144 How to Escape from a Pirate. 
 
 "He pointed to the yardarm, as much as to say that I 
 should be strung up if I refused obedience, and I've no 
 doubt he would have kept his word. 
 
 "I just answered, 'Aye, aye, sir,' without looking par- 
 ticularly concerned. 
 
 " 'What will you do to the crew when the ship has fallen 
 into your hands?' I asked. 
 
 " 'Send them to Davy Jones' locker,' he said, with no 
 more compunction than if he were speaking of a litter of 
 kittens. 
 
 "Well, I felt as if I was in a pretty tight place; some 
 like a man I've heard of somewhere, who was being 
 chased by a buffalo. At last he came to a precipice a 
 hundred feet high. Of course it would be death for him 
 to jump off and it would be just as much death for him 
 to stay where he was. So he just waited till the old buf- 
 falo was close to him, and then he dodged out of the way, 
 and the buffalo, who was going at full speed, leaped over 
 the precipice, and was dashed to pieces. Well, I thought 
 whether I couldn't do something of that kind. I knew 
 that, if I shouldn't fight, the pirates would be as good as 
 their word, and kill me, and, if I did, I should be guilty 
 of piracy, and be liable to be hung as a pirate, i* ever I 
 got caught." 
 
 "That was a pretty hard choice," said Charlie. 
 
 "So it seemed to me," said Bill. "The only thing I 
 thought of that would do me any good was to turn upon 
 the pirates some way. If I could only have jumped into 
 
How to Escape from a Pirate. 145 
 
 the water, imobserved, and swam to the other ship, I would 
 have fought to the last in their defense." 
 
 "Why didn't you do it?" 
 
 "Well, my lad, there were two objections. In the first 
 place the pirates would have seen what I was at and fired 
 at me in the water. In the second place, the sailors on 
 board the Sally Ann, thinking that I was a pirate, would 
 have suspected I was up to some mischief, and so, most 
 likely, they would have blazed away at me, too. So, be- 
 tween the two fires, I shouldn't have stood a very good 
 chance." 
 
 "I don't know but you are right." 
 
 "jSTo, my lad, it didn't take me very long to decide that 
 there was nothing to be gained in that way. At that mo- 
 ment I chanced to go down below for something, when 
 my eye rested on — what do you think ?" 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "It was a Tceg of poivder," said Bill, shaking the ashes 
 from his pipe. "Perhaps, my lad, you can guess what 
 thought that put me up to." 
 
 "Was it to blow them all up?" asked Charlie, in excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "You've hit it, my lad." 
 
 "But that would be dangerous to you." 
 
 "I knew that well enough," said the sailor. "There was 
 precious little chance of old Bill Sturdy living to tell the 
 story; but, my lad, I'll tell you what made me overlook that. 
 I must either turn pirate and always remain so, with a 
 
146 How to Escape from a Pirate. 
 
 pretty considerable chance of swinging from the gallows 
 some time, or else be butchered by the pirates for refusing 
 to join them. So, as there didn't seem to be much but 
 death in prospect, that consideration didn't weigh much. 
 Then I thought that, if I did die by the explosion, I should 
 have the satisfaction of knowing that the rascally pirates 
 would share my fate, and the Red Rover, the scourge of 
 the seas, would never do any more harm. Besides that. I 
 ehould save the Sally Ann and the lives of the captain and 
 crew, and that was something glorious to think of." 
 
 The boy's cheek glowed with sympathetic ardor, and he 
 clasped Bill Sturdy's rough hand, in token of understand- 
 ing and appreciating his motive. 
 
 "That seemed the only way open to me," resumed Bill, 
 "and I determined to adopt it. Of course there were nine 
 chances out of ten that I should be blown up with the rest 
 of them, but still there was a possibility of escape. I 
 couldn't help thinking of that, and the more J thought, the 
 more } had a kind of feeling that I should escape. I 
 thought I would go up on deck a minute, before carrying 
 out my design, and see what was going on. Well, the pirates 
 had about got ready for action. The decks had been cleared, 
 the cutlasses and pistols and other murderous weapons had 
 been distributed among the men, and, altogether, there 
 seemed precious little chance for the poor fellows on board 
 the Sally Ann, especially, as I knew well enough, that they 
 had no cannon, and only a few pistols, that were not likely 
 to do them much good. 
 
How to Escape from a Pirate, 7 
 
 "There wasn't much time to lose, as the action was 
 ing to commence. So I slipped clown below, and f: 
 slow match, so that it would reach the powder in ab< 
 minute. I had just about got it fixed, when who sh< i.!d 
 I see coming down but the pirate captain. It see] 
 all my plans were going to be knocked in the head 
 doubt he suspected that all was not as it should be, an ! 3 
 coming down to see what was to pay. I felt desperate, tad 
 fetched him as powerful a blow us I was able on the i 
 the head, and he fell like an ox, pretty effectually stnnn ." 
 
 "What next ?" 
 
 "The next thing I did was to hurry upon deck. ^Where's 
 the captain?' asked the mate. 'He'll be up directly, 5 aid 
 I. And so he was, but not in the sense that he tun i- 
 stood it. 
 
 "Well, I listened on deck for about half a minute in a 
 terrible state of anxiety, you may be sure. Then, feeling 
 that it was not safe for me to stay any longer, I jumped into 
 the water and began to swim toward the Sally Ann. As 
 my head rose above the water, I saw the mate about to Sre 
 at me, and I dove. When my head was fairly out of water 
 again, such a sound as smote upon my ear! The light "ad 
 reached the powder, and there was a terrible exple 'on. 
 The ship was shattered to pieces. The pirates were hurled 
 into the air, some with mutilated limbs, and I rather thh k 
 that some of them were considerably astonished. The cap- 
 tain did go up, as I promised. lie was flung a hundred 
 feet into the air, and never came down again alive. For 
 
148 How to Escape from a Pirate. 
 
 my part, I was lucky enough to reach the Sally Ann, un- 
 touched by the falling fragments. When they found out 
 who I was, and how I had saved them, their gratitude knew 
 no bounds. The owners made up a purse of two thou- 
 sand dollars, and presented it to me." 
 
 "And what did you do with it?" 
 
 "When I got back to Boston I put it in one of the places 
 you call savings banks, and I expect it's there now." 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 ANTONIO'S PLOT. 
 
 Such is a specimen of the } T ams — sometimes true — some= 
 times spun out of whole cloth — with which the sailors 
 amused themselves and beguiled the tedium of the night- 
 watch. 
 
 The companionship of honest and stout-hearted Bill 
 Sturdy proved a great source of happiness to Charlie, and 
 enabled him to bear up, as otherwise he might have found 
 it difficult to do, under the hardships of his condition, the 
 persecution of the captain and the mate, who had not for- 
 gotten their animosity, and the uncertainty he could not 
 but feel as to the situation in which his mother was left, 
 with the painful doubt as to whether she would be able to 
 support herself till he could return and relieve her neces- 
 sities. 
 
 "When we get back, my lad," said Bill Sturdy, "I'll put 
 half that money in a savings bank in your name, so that 
 if you and your mother want it at any time, you can use 
 it." 
 
 "No, Bill," said Charlie earnestly, "you are very kind, 
 but I couldn't consent to that." 
 149 
 
150 Antonio's Plot. 
 
 *And why not, my lad? What do I want of it? I'vt 
 got neither chick nor child, and am not likely to have. 
 l>e taken a fancy to you, and the money'll do you more 
 good than me." 
 
 "You are very kind," said Charlie gratefully; "hut I 
 Mustn't take advantage of your generosity." 
 
 "Nonsense, my lad. I know what it is to be a poor hoy, 
 •without money or friends, and nowadays money will bring 
 friends. Mayhap it'll start you in some business, and when 
 you get rich you can pay me ; or if, by and by, I take a 
 Motion to come to anchor on shore, you'll give me a corner 
 in your house, where I can smoke my pipe and spin my 
 yarns." 
 
 "That I will, Bill," said Charlie, seizing the old sailor's 
 rough hand. "If I have a roof to cover me, it shall cover 
 you, too." 
 
 "Thank you, my lad," said Bill. "I know you would." 
 
 Under Bill Sturdy 's rough exterior there was a kind 
 heart which warmed to the hoy, partly because of his soli- 
 tary position on board, partly on account of his manliness 
 and attractive qualities. So they became fast friends. 
 
 Charlie did not find his duties altogether distasteful. He 
 was a bright, active boy, not without ambition, and resolved 
 to do himself credit in his new position, however it may 
 have been forced upon him. For this reason it was that 
 the captain and the mate, although they watched him with 
 lynx eyes, hoping that be would afford them some pretext 
 for showing their rancorous feelings towards him, watched 
 
Antonio's Plot. 151 
 
 ineffectually. By his activity and his frank and manly dis- 
 position he was fast ingratiating himself with the crew, 
 who were the more disposed to espouse his cause, because 
 they could not fail to notice the injustice with which [he 
 officers treated him. 
 
 But trouble was brewing Pot Charlie, and soon the storm, 
 broke forth. 
 
 The scuffle between Bill Sturdy and Antonio, of which 
 Charlie was the occasion, will not have been forgotten. An- 
 tonio had before hated Bill on account of his superiority in 
 strength, which deprived him of his former champion's life. 
 This feeling was increased by the issue of the contest which 
 had resulted in his humiliation and defeat, and his anger 
 was also stirred up against Charlie, who had been the occa- 
 sion of it. Yet he did not dare to venture upon abuse, be- 
 cause it was generally understood that Bill Sturdy had con- 
 stituted himself Charlie's especial friend and protector. 
 
 But there were other ways of compassing his end. An- 
 tonio felt that his revenge must be a more secret one, and 
 he desired that it should involve both Bill Sturdy and his 
 protege. If he could only involve Charlie in some offense 
 which would draw upon him the active displeasure of the 
 captain, and subject him to public punishment, he felt sure 
 that Bill Sturdy would not stand tamely by and see it in- 
 flicted, while any interference would be insubordination, 
 and get his rival into serious trouble. 
 
 After reflection Antonio decided to implicate Charlie ia 
 a charge of theft. It happened that the captain had a valu- 
 
152 Antonio's Plot. 
 
 able gold ring, set with diamonds, which he prized even 
 beyond its pecuniary value. Captain Brace, however, was 
 not a careful man. He would sometimes take off his ring, 
 and lay it down on the cabin table. On one occasion An- 
 tonio, while upon deck, observed the captain pass, and as- 
 certained by a swift glance that the ring was not upon his 
 finger. He watched his opportunity, and, slipping down 
 into the cabin, found, as he anticipated, the ring upon the 
 table. It was the work of a moment to snatch and conceal 
 it in his pocket. 
 
 He returned to the work in which he had been engaged, 
 and resumed it, supposing he had not been observed. In 
 this he was mistaken. 
 
 Bill Sturdy had had his eye upon him from the time of 
 his difficulty with him. He could see Antonio's craftiness 
 in his face, and the apparent affability and conciliatory 
 manner of the latter afterward had by no means deceived 
 him. 
 
 "Look out for squalls," thought he. "He's too fair-seem- 
 ing to be trusted. I've no doubt he's hatching up something 
 or other. I'll keep a sharp lookout for him." 
 
 When Antonio made his stealthy visit to the cabin, as 
 above described, the vigilant eye of Bill Sturdy was upon 
 him and his movements. In a moment he reappeared. 
 Bill saw it all out of the corner of his eye, though he ap- 
 peared to be looking in just the opposite direction. 
 
 "What's the fellow up to ?" he thought. "Some mischief, 
 
Antonio's Plot. 153 
 
 I reckon. What business has he in the cabin? I must 
 watch him." 
 
 Of course, Antonio's object will be understood. He 
 meant to place the ring in Charlie's chest, and when the 
 loss should be discovered by the captain, he would suggest 
 that a general search should be instituted, the result of 
 which must involve the boy. 
 
 Charlie was, of course, quite unconscious of the machi- 
 nations which were being formed against him, and even 
 Bill was not yet quite certain for what purpose Antonio 
 had made his visit to the cabin. 
 
 Antonio felt the necessity of doing quickly what he had 
 in contemplation. Going below, he made his way to the 
 chest belonging to Charlie, and, lifting the cover, for it was 
 unlocked, let the ring drop into one corner. 
 
 Bill Sturdy saw his second disappearance from the deck. 
 He could not ascertain precisely what he was doing, without 
 following him — a thing which he did not wish to do, since 
 it would arouse Antonio's suspicions, and place him on his 
 guard. 
 
 Antonio came up with an expression of malicious satis- 
 faction, which Bill did not fail to notice. 
 
 "I wish," he thought, "I knew exactly what the fellow 
 has been doing." 
 
 Bill was destined to learn ere long. 
 
 The captain went below, and glanced carelessly at the 
 place where he remembered to have left the ring. To his 
 surprise it had disappeared. 
 
154 Antonio's Plot. 
 
 "What can have become of it?" he thought. 
 
 He instituted a careful examination, but did not succeed 
 in finding the lost article. It occurred to him that he might 
 have been mistaken about leaving it on the table. It might 
 possibly have been dropped upon deck. 
 
 Going on deck, he communicated his loss to the crew, aad 
 requested a general search. 
 
 "I think, Captain Brace," said Antonio, officiously, "that 
 I can guess where it is." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "I saw that boy have it," pointing to Charlie. 
 
 "It's a lie !" exclaimed Charlie, surprised and indignant. 
 
 "We'll see about that/" said the captain, with a sneer. 
 "Do you know what he did with it, Antonio ?" 
 
 "I think he may have hidden it in his chest." 
 
 "Let his chest be brought on deck and publicly examined, 
 If lie is found guilty he shall be punished, as sure as mf 
 name is Brace." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV, 
 
 CHARLIE GETS INTO TROUBLE. 
 
 Charlie, at first taken by surprise when the charge of 
 theft was brought against him, now looked scornfully in- 
 dignant. Ignorant of the ways of the world, and the wick- 
 edness of which some men are capable, lie never, for a mo- 
 Bent, feared the result of the investigation. As for the 
 crew, they had already become interested in his favor, and 
 now pitied him for the unfortunate position in which he 
 foimd himself placed. None of them believed him guilty. 
 
 As the captain had directed, his chest was brought on 
 deck. Before this was searched, however, he was subjected 
 to a personal examination, at which nothing was discov- 
 ered. There was a murmur of satisfaction. 
 
 "The lad never stole the ring," said a stout seaman, 
 standing next to the real perpetrator of the crime, Antonio. 
 
 "Don't be too sure of that," said the Spaniard, in a 
 malignant tone. "His chest hasn't been searched yet." 
 
 "I don't care for that; I can tell by his face. A lad, with 
 such a figure-head as that, wouldn't do anything mean or 
 dishonorable." 
 
 "You seem to have taken a great f -p»y to b^m," sneered 
 155 
 
156 Charlie Gets Into Trouble. 
 
 Antonio. "You mustn't trust too much to appearance. 
 He looks to me as if he were guilty." 
 
 Charlie's cheeks were flushed, hut not with shame or 
 coiffusion. It was indignation, that he should be sus- 
 pected of such a disgraceful crime. 
 
 By his side stood Bill Sturdy, who took au opportunity 
 of whispering into his ear: "Never you mind, my lad, 
 even if the ring is found in your chest." 
 
 "But it isn't there," said Charlie. 
 
 "It may be," said Bill, who, by this time, suspected the 
 nature of Antonio's two errands below. 
 
 "How should it be there?" asked Charlie, quite in the 
 dark. 
 
 "It might have been put there, my lad." 
 
 "But who could put it there ?" 
 
 "Hark you, my lad," said Bill, still further lowering his 
 tones; "you've got more than one enemy on board this 
 ship." 
 
 "The mate." 
 
 "Yes, and the captain, too, for that matter." 
 
 "But neither of them would put the ring in my chest." 
 
 "No, probably not." 
 
 "Then who would?" 
 
 "There is another enemy besides these two." 
 
 "Do you mean Antonio?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But he seemed friendly lately." 
 
 "He isn't to be trusted, my lad. He's borne a grudge 
 
Charlie Gets Into Trouble. 157 
 
 against both of us ever since I got the better of him the 
 other day, and he's made up his mind to be revenged. I've 
 been watching him when he didn't suspect it, and know 
 more than he thinks I do." 
 
 "Do you know anything of this affair, Bill?" asked 
 Charlie, looking up hopefully into the face of his friend. 
 
 "I expect I do." 
 
 "What is it ?" questioned our hero eagerly. 
 
 "I shall save it till it will do some good. But see, they 
 have nearly finished searching your chest. Perhaps the 
 ring is not there, after all." 
 
 As Bill said, the search was nearly completed. Charlie's 
 clothes had been unceremoniously tumbled out upon deck, 
 which was not calculated to improve their appearance, and 
 the captain and mate, who had shown themselves particu- 
 larly active on the occasion, were peering about in search 
 of the lost ring. 
 
 It chanced, however, that the ring had got in a fold of 
 one of the shirts which lay upon deck. Of course, therefore, 
 the search in the chest proved unavailing. 
 
 "I doubt whether it is here," said the captain, in a tone 
 of disappointment." 
 
 "Let us look a little longer," said the mate, who could 
 not so easily resign the chance of getting into trouble the 
 boy whom he hated with a malevolence such as his nature 
 was capable of. 
 
 Antonio became alarmed at the prospect of all his plana 
 being frustrated by a failure to find ihc ring. 
 
158 Charlie Gets Into Trouble. 
 
 When the mate also gave up the search, he came for- 
 ward, and, addressing the captain, said : 
 
 "Captain Brace, if you will let me assist in the searofe, 
 perhaps I can succeed in finding it." 
 
 "You are the one that saw the boy have it, are yon?" 
 queried the captain. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How long since ?" 
 
 "About half an hour." 
 
 "Why did you not mention it at that time ?" 
 
 "I thought perhaps he had only picked it up, and would 
 give it back to you," said the Spaniard, in some confusion. 
 "I didn't want to charge him with the theft till I felt sure 
 he meant to steal it." 
 
 "And what makes you feel sure he did so intend ?" 
 
 "Because when you said the ring was lost, he did not 
 come forward and restore it." 
 
 "Aye," said Captain Brace, "that is strongly against 
 him. If it is found that he has concealed it anywhere, he 
 shall repent it." 
 
 "What reason have you for supposing that he concealed 
 it in his chest?" asked the mate. 
 
 "Because I saw him go down below," answered Antonio, 
 with unblushing falsehood. 
 
 "It's a lie," said Charlie boldly. "I haven't been below 
 this morning." 
 
 "Silence!" thundered the captain, scowling menacingly; 
 "don't add falsehood to theft." 
 
Charlie Gets Into Trouble. 159 
 
 "I haven't been guilty of theft," sai( l Charlie boldly. 
 
 "Silence!" again thundered the captain, "or it will be 
 the worse for you."' 
 
 "You had better not say anything more, my lad," whis- 
 pered Bill Sturdy ; "we shall yet bring you off with flying 
 colors. Don't you fear. Bill Sturdy is your friend, and 
 he will stand by you." 
 
 Charlie looked grateful. 
 
 "I think. Captain Brace/' said "Randall, "that we may 
 venture to let Antonio assist us, since he may succeed where 
 we have failed." 
 
 "Very well," said the captain, "I have no objection to 
 offer. On the contrary, if he succeeds in finding it, I will 
 take care that he shall be rewarded." 
 
 Antonio was already on his knees before the chest. There 
 was a murmur of disapprobation among the crew. They 
 were in favor of fair play, and this undue eagerness to con- 
 vict the boy of guilt did not commend itself to their sense 
 of justice and generosity. But Antonio cared little for the 
 semaii.m which his conduct might excite among his fellow 
 seamen. He cared more for the gratification of his revenge 
 than for personal popularity. 
 
 A glance satisfied him that the ring was not in the 
 chest. He next began to examine carefully the clothes 
 which had been taken out and were lying on deck. 
 
 Ju lifting and shaking a shirt the ring rolled out. 
 
 "There is your ring, Captaia Brace," id he, in a tone 
 of exultation, as lie picked it up and extended it in tlie 
 captain. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE REAL CULPRIT DISCOVERED. 
 
 The discovery of the ring made a profound impression 
 upon all present. The sailors looked at first surprised and 
 then sorrowful, for they could not escape the conviction 
 that Charlie had heen tempted by the richness of the prize 
 and had actually stolen it. 
 
 Charlie was overwhelmed with astonishment and indig- 
 nation, and the thought that he was considered guilty made 
 him feel very uncomfortable. 
 
 The captain, the mate, and Antonio could hardly conceal 
 the satisfaction which this discovery afforded them. Each 
 had motives of his own, the captain being, of course, glad to 
 recover an article which he valued, but of the three perhaps 
 there was none that felt a more malicious satisfaction thay 
 the one who had devised the plot. He glanced exultantly 
 at Charlie and Bill Sturdy, who he knew would be equally 
 affected by his favorite's misfortune. 
 
 Bill Sturdy returned his glance composedly. Antonio 
 was disappointed to find that he neither looked disturbed 
 nor frightened. Bill waited calmly the course of events. 
 
 Captain Brace exclaimed in his harsh voice : 
 
 <Tt seems we have a thief on board. We'll soon teach 
 160 
 
The Real Culprit Discovered. 161 
 
 him the way all such rascals will be treated on board this 
 ship. Boy, take off your jacket." 
 
 "Captain Brace," said Charlie, with glowing cheeks and 
 in a tone that might have convinced any one not prejudiced 
 against him, "just hear what I am going to say. I didn't 
 steal your ring, indeed I didn't. I would scorn to do such 
 a thing. Ever since I could speak my mother has taught 
 me how mean a thing it is to take what belongs to another. 
 I own that appearances are against me." 
 
 Here Kandall stepped forward with an evil smile upon 
 his face. 
 
 "Captain Brace, as I am the uncle of this boy, perhaps 
 you will allow me to tell you how much dependence can be 
 placed upon his word. He is an artful young rascal. I am 
 sorry to say it, since he is related to me, but the fact is, he 
 was on the point of being arrested for theft just before we 
 sailed, when I, to protect him from imprisonment, and 
 snatch him from the custody of the law, took him to sea 
 with me. I have said this against my will, because, 
 although I know you, Captain Brace, would not be im- 
 posed upon by his story, I thought there might be others 
 that would." 
 
 The sailors looked at each other, not knowing what to 
 think, while the captain exclaimed sternly : 
 
 "So this is not the first of your tricks, my fine fellow. 
 You shall have justice done you on the sea, if not on the 
 land. Strip, I tell you." 
 
 Charlie was so thunderstruck by Randall's bold falsehood 
 
162 The Real Culprit Discovered. 
 
 that he actually had nothing to say. He mechanically 
 began to take off his jacket. 
 
 At this moment the voice of Bill Sturdy was heard, as, 
 hitching up his trousers a bit, he left the mast against 
 which he had been leaning, and advanced into the midst 
 of the assembled sailors. 
 
 "Captain Brace," he said, in a tone firm but respectful, 
 "if you'll allow me, I'll tell you what I know of this affair." 
 
 "So you know something about it, do you ?" 
 
 "I thought so,'' said Randall, in a low voice, for he bad 
 disliked Bill from the first. 
 
 "I do," was the composed reply, "but I have no reason to 
 be ashamed of what 1 do know.'' 
 
 "I think," said the mate, "we already know all that we 
 require, since we have discovered the thief." 
 
 He was apprehensive, from Bill's tone, that what he had 
 to say might put a different face on the matter, and perhaps 
 clear Charlie. 
 
 Captain Brace, however, did not choose to be guided by 
 the implied advice of his first officer. He had a curiosity 
 to learn what Sturdy had to communicate. 
 
 "Say on ; what do you know of this affair?" 
 
 '•Very well, sir. About an hour ago you came up from 
 the cabin and began to pace the deck." 
 
 The captain assented. 
 
 "As you passed T observed one of the crew take a hasty 
 glance at your linger. 1 looked, also, and saw that you 
 were ■ ■ ag your ring as usual/* 
 
The Eeal Culprit Discovered. 168 
 
 "Well, who was the sailor?" 
 
 "I would rather not mention his name just at present, 
 unless you insist upon it." 
 
 The captain did not insist, and Sturdy proceeded. 
 
 "I thought I would just keep my eyes open, and see what 
 followed. Pretty soon the sailor I spoke of looked about 
 him to see if he was unnoticed, and crept slyly down below. 
 A little later he came up and went to work again." 
 
 "Was that all ?" 
 
 "It was not,*' answered Sturdy. "He kept at work about 
 ten minutes longer, and then stole toward the forecastle 
 with the same secrecy as before. I should have followed 
 him down, but I thought he would notice me. My mind 
 misgave me that he was in some mischief. I determined I 
 would remember what happened, and, if anything turned 
 up, I should know how it came about." 
 
 "And what do you make of all this?" said Randall, 
 sneering. "To my mind it is a foolish story, and, even if 
 true, amounts to nothing." 
 
 "I'll tell you what I think, and am about sure of, Mr. 
 Randall," said Bill, without betraying a particle of excite- 
 ment, but continuing to speak with the same calm com- 
 posure as before, "I believe that man in the first place stole 
 the captain's ring, and then went and put it into the lad's 
 chest, in order that it might be found there, and the guilt 
 fixed on him." 
 
 This assertion made a sensation among the crew, and 
 there was a general feeling that Charlie was innocent. 
 
164 The Real Culprit Discovered. 
 
 "Who is this man of whom you have been speaking ?" 
 said the captain. 
 
 "I don't need to name him," said Bill. "I don't need 
 even to look at him. If you will look around you, Captain 
 Brace, you can tell by his looks who the man is that has 
 hatched this wicked plot against an innocent boy." 
 
 Instantly the eyes of all, as if by some common impulse, 
 were fixed upon the form of Antonio, who, confused, thun- 
 derstruck by the minute detail of his movements, which he 
 had supposed unnoticed by any one, now stood with his face 
 alternately flushing and paling, looking the very picture 
 of detected guilt. 
 
 Unable to bear the glances fixed upon him, he exclaimed 
 in a voice hoarse with passion : 
 
 "It is false. I never did it." 
 
 "No one has accused you, that I know of," said Bill 
 Sturdy, coolly. "Leastways, nobody that I know of, ex- 
 cepting yourself, and your face is enough to do that. How- 
 ever, I don't mind saying that you are the man I mean. 
 If Captain Brace will take the trouble to remember, you 
 are the first one that thought of searching for the ring, 
 and told him falsely that you had seen it in the hands of 
 that lad there. Then, again, when the chest had been 
 searched, and the ring couldn't be found, you came for- 
 ward and offered to look for it yourself, and finally you did 
 find it. That's all I've got to say, only, if you are not the 
 real thief I am a liar, and so is that face of yours." 
 
The Real Culprit Discovered. 165 
 
 Carried away by his rage, Antonio, forgetting the pru- 
 dence which his past experience might have taught him, 
 threw himself suddenly upon Bill Sturdy, and nearly 
 succeeded in laying him prostrate upon the deck. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A STORM BREWING. 
 
 Antonio's assault was so unexpected that Bill Sturdy, 
 being, of course, quite unprepared for it, staggered and 
 seemed about to fall. But, as one who slips upon the ice 
 instinctively makes an effort to preserve his equilibrium, so 
 Sturdy immediately recovered from the momentary disad- 
 vantage, and, seizing Antonio with both hands, threw him 
 to the deck without any great apparent effort. 
 
 Probably if Antonio had gained the advantage, Captain 
 Brace would have been in no haste to put a stop to the 
 conflict. As it was, his brows knit with anger as he 
 exclaimed, in a stentorian voice : 
 
 "Stop this fighting, you lubbers ! Don't you know better 
 the respect which is due to my presence ? I'll let you know 
 that I am not to be insulted on my own deck." 
 
 "It wasn't a fight of my seeking, Captain Brace," said 
 Bill eoolly. "I ain ? t disposed to be quarrelsome, and I 
 guess he won't want to try it again immediately." 
 
 As he said this he glanced at Antonio, who, sorely bruised 
 
 by the fall, was slowly rising from the deck, and slinking 
 
 away with a crestfallen and malignant look. Had he not 
 
 been moved by an uncontrollable impulse of rage and dis- 
 
 166 
 
A Storm Brewing. 167 
 
 appointment, he would scarcely have ventured upon this 
 open attack, knowing, as had been incontestable proved, 
 that he was no match for the Herculean strength o£ Bill 
 Sturdy. 
 
 "Silence !" roared the captain, in answer to Bill's vindi- 
 cation of himself. "One would think from your maimer 
 that you were the captain of this ship instead of me." 
 
 "If I were the captain," said Bill, bluntly, "I'd have that 
 man, pointing to Antonio, "put ashore at the first port. 
 I wouldn't harbor such a rascal aboard the ship." 
 
 "Silence !'' again thundered the captain. "Don't you 
 know your place ? If you don't, by all the saints in the 
 calendar, I'll make you know it before twenty-four hours 
 have passed over your head. Let me tell you that I don't 
 require any help in commanding this vessel. When I do, 
 I will call on you. Till then, you may keep your advice to 
 yourself." 
 
 Bill shrugged his shoulders, but thought it prudent, on 
 the whole, to say nothing. Xot that he feared for himself. 
 He had a good deal of confidence in the strength with which 
 nature had endowed him, but he feared that any unguarded 
 words of his might incite the captain and mate to visit new 
 hardships upon his young protege, Charlie. 
 
 "As to the matter of the ring," said the captain, "iny 
 mind is not made up. Mr. Ban; 1 . all, will you attend me?" 
 
 r i he mate went below will) Captain Brace. 
 
 After a moment's silence, the captain said: "I don't 
 like that fellow, Mr. Randall." 
 
168 A Storm Brewing-. 
 
 ''Do you mean Antonio?" 
 
 "No; this Sturdy, who takes such airs upon himself." 
 
 "Neither do I," answered Eandall promptly. 
 
 "lie's a mutinous rebel. I can see it in his eye," pursued 
 the captain. 
 
 "I have no doubt he would be if he had a good 
 opportunity." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall give him one/' said the captain sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 "He's as strong as a bull," said the mate. 
 
 "Yes; the fellow has fists like sledge-hammers, but 
 he may use them once too often. We will speak of that 
 hereafter. Now, what do you think of this robbery?" 
 
 "I suppose Antonio was the thief," said Randall re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 "You think Sturdy's story is correct?" 
 
 "Yes; Antonio is a deep rascal, though of the two 
 I hate Sturdy most." 
 
 "Did you suppose your nephew to be the thief before 
 the latter told his story?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Yet you countenanced the charge." 
 
 "Because I thought a flogging would do the boy no 
 harm." 
 
 "You don't seem to have any great affection for your 
 nephew." 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 "And the reason?" 
 
A Storm Brewing 169 
 
 "Is simply this: The boy's mother jiltea me, or, 
 rather, refused me outright when I offered my hand in 
 marriage." 
 
 "Ha ! that's where the shoe pinches." 
 
 "You are right." 
 
 "Well, I don't care to interfere with any little private 
 revenge you may desire to take, as long as it chimes in 
 with my own purposes. The boy shall be flogged if you 
 wish it." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Find some pretext, then, as long as the charge of 
 robbery won't serve." 
 
 "Then," said Eandall, "you might announce that, al- 
 though the charge of theft has not been sustained, he has 
 been guilty of an offense that calls for punishment — 
 insolence to his officers." 
 
 "That is a good idea. And in regard to Antonio " 
 
 "I have no doubt the rascal stole the ring, and deserves 
 punishment, but I don't want him flogged, as it would 
 gratify Sturdy too much." 
 
 "My own feeling." 
 
 "You can say that you have been unable to determine 
 who is guilty in the matter, and shall wait for further 
 evidence." 
 
 "Very well conceived, Mr. Eandall. I shall follow your 
 advice, and thank you for it." 
 
 "I am glad to have been of service to you, Captain 
 Brace." 
 
170 A Storm Brewing. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Randall, if you will go on deck, I wiii be 
 
 up presently." 
 
 The mate reappeared on deck with a satisfied air, occa- 
 siorfally looking with a glance of triumphant spite at 
 Charlie, who was standing beside his tried and trusty 
 friend Bill Sturdy. 
 
 "You don't know what's in store for you, my lad," ke 
 muttered. "Pity his mother could not be here to see 
 his fair flesh quivering under the keen lash. Her heart 
 Mould feel every stroke. She might repent, then, the 
 scorn with which she repelled the suit of John Randall. 
 How I hate that boy ! He brings up his father before 
 me. So much the better. When he shrinks beneath the 
 lash, I shall think it is my old rival upon whom it is 
 falling." 
 
 Bili Sturdy, meanwhile, said, in a low voice, to Charlie : 
 
 "I don't like the looks of the mate. He's hatching 
 mischief of some kind, if I'm not greatly mistaken." 
 
 "'Against us?" 
 
 "That's what I mistrust, my iad; against one or both 
 of us. He hates us both, and I ain't quite sure which he 
 hates the most." 
 
 "And yet I never did him any injury." 
 
 "Then he's done you some harm, depend upon it. 
 3 3 hate worst those they have injured most, and he'3 
 done you a grent wrong in stealing you from home." 
 
 "What do you suppose made him do that, Bill?'' 
 
 "He had some private reason; there ain't a question 
 
A Storm Brewing. 171 
 
 about that. It wasn't because we were in want of a boy. 
 W« might have picked up plenty that would have been 
 glad k> come." 
 
 "I'm afraid j^ou'll get into trouble with him for taking 
 my part/' said Charlie, with some anixety. 
 
 •Don't trouble yourself about me," said Sturdy, 
 shrugging his shoulders. "I ain't in any way frightened 
 by his black looks, and if he tries to do you any mis- 
 chief, he'll find you've got one friend." 
 
 Before Charlie had an opportunity to reply, Captain 
 Brace came on deck, and looked around him with a 
 glanee that showed a storm was brewing. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 THE LASH. 
 
 "Pipe all hands to see punishment inflicted/' ordered 
 Captain Brace. 
 
 Charlie and Bill Sturdy looked at each other, uncer- 
 tain where the blow was to fall. 
 
 "It must be Antonio," thought Charlie. 
 
 Evidently Antonio was of the same opinion, for over 
 his swarthy face there stole a pallor which showed his 
 apprehension. 
 
 Such was the understanding of the crew, also, as they 
 could think of no other wrongdoer. Little pity was 
 excited in behalf of the supposed sufferer. He had so 
 abused his position when champion of the crew, that he 
 had forfeited the good- will of all; and even if this had 
 not been the case, his treacherous and mean attempt to 
 bring Charlie into trouble would have been sufficient 
 to bring him into disfavor. 
 
 The uncertainty as to the victim was dissipated by the 
 captain's next words. 
 
 "Jack Bandall, come here !" 
 
 Charlie came forward. 
 
 "Boy," said Captain Brace sternly, "you were guilty 
 172 
 
The Lash. 173 
 
 of insolence to me this morning. This shall never go 
 unpunished while I am in command of a vessel. As to 
 the ring, you may or may not have stolen it. It rests 
 between you and Antonio. As it cannot be proved of 
 either, neither will be punished on this account." 
 
 Antonio's sallow face lighted up with joy at this un- 
 expected escape, a joy which was not reflected on the 
 faces of the crew. 
 
 "It is for insolence, therefore, and not on account of 
 theft," pursued the captain, "that I sentence you, Jack 
 Randall, to a dozen lashes on the bare back. Off with 
 your jacket I" 
 
 Charlie was a brave boy, but the prospect of this igno- 
 minious punishment caused his cheek to pale and his voice 
 to tremble as he exclaimed: 
 
 "Captain Brace, if I have been guilty of insolence or 
 want of proper respect to you, it was not intentional. Do 
 not compel me to submit to this disgraceful punishment." 
 
 There was a movement of sympathy among the crew, 
 and more than one heart softened at the sight of Charlie's 
 manly front, though his lips quivered, and pride alone 
 kept back the tears from his eyes. Bill Sturdy started, 
 but checked himself, to hear what the captain would say 
 in response. 
 
 "It is too late," he said coldly. "You should have 
 thought of all that before you indulged in insolence." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "It is too late, I say," roared the captain, irritated. 
 
174 The Lash. 
 
 "Strip, you young rascal, or you shall have som^ help 
 about it, and that of a rough kind." 
 
 It seemed as if all chance of escape was over for poor 
 Charlie. But at that moment Bill Sturdy pressed for- 
 ward, and, hitching up his trousers, as he was wont to do 
 preparatory to speaking, said, in a distinct tone of voice: 
 "Captain Brace." 
 
 "Well?" said the captain. "What have you to say?" 
 
 "I should like to make a proposal to you, sir." 
 
 "A proposal," repeated the captain, mystified. "What 
 am I to understand by that?" 
 
 "It's just this, Captain Brace. You're the captain of 
 this vessel, and you've got a right to flog that boy, I sup- 
 pose, according to the law." 
 
 "Of course I have," said the captain fiercely. "Do you 
 presume to question that right?" 
 
 "I don't think proper to question it just now," said 
 Bill; "but, Captain Brace, just look at that boy. Look 
 at his bright, honest face, and you can't have the heart 
 to abuse him." 
 
 "Abuse him !" exclaimed the captain, stamping on the 
 deck in his fury; "say that again, and I'll have you 
 flogged with him." 
 
 "It was something of that kind that I was going to 
 propose," said Bill Sturdy. 
 
 Captain Brace stared at him in astonishment, a feeling 
 which was shared by the crcwi 
 
The Lash. 175 
 
 "If you want to be flogged," said the captain grimly, 
 "we will try to accommodate you." 
 
 "It is in this way that I mean," exclaimed Bill. "I've 
 taken a liking to that lad, and I've promised him I'll 
 stand his friend. Now, Captain Brace, if somebody must 
 be flogged, spare him, and flog me in his place." 
 
 Surprise was depicted on every face, and the sun- 
 burned and rough-visaged men about him felt an in- 
 voluntary thrill of respect and admiration, as Sturdy 
 manfully came forward and offered his own back to the 
 punishment, which is properly regarded as an insult to 
 manhood, though the disgrace attaches not to the one 
 who endures, but to the one who inflicts it. 
 
 Charlie was the first to speak. His generous heart 
 revolted at the idea of escaping punishment at the 
 i of his friend. 
 
 "No, Bill Sturdy," said he manfully, "I don't want 
 you to suffer in my place. It'll be hard to boar it." and 
 his lip quivered; "but it would be weak and cowardly 
 for mo to let anybody else suffer in my plan'." 
 
 Charlie began to take off his jacket. 
 
 tere was a murmuring among the crew, testifying 
 to h< \ itement which they felt. 
 
 "Fui on your jacket, my lad," said Bill. "I'm older 
 and tougher than you, and 1 can bear it better." 
 
 And the stout seaman pulled off his shirt, and dis- 
 brawny shoulders, and a chest whose breadth 
 
176 The Lash. 
 
 and depth betokened a strength which could not be styled 
 less than Herculean. 
 
 Antonio looked on, his eyes blazing with vindictive 
 joy. Whichever was flogged, his satisfaction would be 
 equal. 
 
 "Hark you !" exclaimed Captain Brace, interfering at 
 this juncture. "I think that I shall choose to have a voice 
 in this matter. So you wish/' turning to Sturdy, "to 
 relieve this boy of his punishment, do you?" 
 
 "I do," said the old seaman. 
 
 "I don't want him to," interrupted Charlie. "It is 
 mine, and I will bear it." 
 
 "It seems the parties are not agreed," said the captain 
 sardonically. 
 
 "Spare him," said Bill Sturdy, his eyes resting affec- 
 tionately on Charlie. "He is so young." 
 
 "Perhaps the best way in which I can please you both 
 is to divide the punishment between }^ou. I had sentenced 
 this lad to receive twelve lashes. Since you wish to do 
 him a service, you shall receive six, and he the other six." 
 
 "I do not consent," said Sturdy, comprehending the 
 captain's purpose to humiliate both. "If his back is to 
 receive a single lash, my offer will not save him from the 
 disgrace, and that is worse than the pain." 
 
 At this juncture the mate whispered something in the 
 captain's ear. The face of the latter lighted up with 
 satisfaction, and his next words revealed the nature of 
 the mate's suggestion. 
 
The Lash. 177 
 
 "I consent to the substitution," he said, and then 
 paused. 
 
 Bill Sturdy's face glowed with generous satisfaction, 
 and with heroic forgetfulness of self, he began to strip 
 for punishment. 
 
 A moment, and his back, broad and ample, was bared, 
 and the thick, corded muscles could be seen. 
 
 "Antonio, come forward," said Captain Brace. 
 
 Antonio advanced amid the general surprise of the 
 crew, and somewhat to his own, and stood still, awaiting 
 orders. 
 
 "Now," said Captain Brace, his tone showing his 
 malignant satisfaction, "I appoint you as my deputy to 
 administer twelve lashes to this man; mind that you 
 don't spare him." 
 
 Antonio did not need this injunction. His eyes were 
 full of fiendish triumph, as he seized the instrument of 
 torture, and flourished it above his head. 
 
 As for Bill Sturdy, when he knew that Antonio was 
 to be employed to inflict punishment upon him, this 
 refinement of torture shook his resolution for a moment. 
 It was, indeed, the bitterest drop in the cup. But not 
 for an instant did his resolution falter. He would save 
 Charlie at all hazards. He quickly recovered himself, 
 and said in a firm voice: 
 
 "I am ready." 
 
 Instantly the lash was whirled aloft, and buried itself 
 in his flesh. 
 
178 The Lash. 
 
 There was a quiver, and that was all. 
 
 One — two — three — four 
 
 In fast succession the blows fell upon his flesh, he 
 meanwhile standing firmly braced, though his cheek waa 
 paler than its wont. 
 
 Charlie's heart sickened, and he closed his eyes to shut 
 out the fearful spectacle, 
 
 As for Antonio, he seemed to revel in the task which 
 had been assigned him. His eyes fairly danced with bale- 
 ful light, and he seemed almost beside himself. It was 
 this, perhaps, that led him to exceed by one the strokes 
 which he had been ordered to administer. 
 
 A moment after and the lash was wrested from him by 
 Bill Sturdy, who threw him to the deck, and with one 
 powerful grasp tore the covering from his back, and 
 buried the lash which had seared his own back in the 
 flesh of his late executioner, who, with face distorted 
 with fright and pain, roared for mercy. 
 
 "That is to pay for the blow you struck on your own 
 ! at, you scoundrel," exclaimed Sturdy. "And now," 
 
 as the las! • once more with prodigious force, 
 
 and the victim fairly writhed under it, "you are one in 
 my debt." 
 
CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 TWO CONFERENCES. 
 
 So strongly were the sympathies of the crew with! 
 Sturdy, more especially since he had shown himself 
 capable of such disinterested and heroic self-sacrifice, and 
 so decidedly were their feelings enlisted against Antonio, 
 who acted like a fiend rather than a man in the execution 
 of the welcome duty assigned him by the captain, that 
 this sudden turning of the tables, the summary revenge 
 taken by Bill Sturdy in return for the additional blow 
 Antonio had inflicted, was greeted with a triumphant 
 shout from the sailors, which seemed to spring from them 
 spontaneously. 
 
 Captain Brace bit his lip, and Randall's face darkened 
 with rage. They felt that the humiliation which they 
 had intended for Bill Sturdy had recoiled upon the head 
 of their own agent. 
 
 The worst of it was they could not prudently resent it. 
 Antonio had in the eyes of all been guilty of a glaring 
 offense in exceeding his orders, and had justly brought 
 upon himself the punishment he had received. However, 
 the justice or injustice of the matter would have weighed 
 little with Captain Brace if he had not been assured that 
 179 
 
180 Two Conferences. 
 
 it would not be safe for him to go further. The law 
 gave almost unlimited power to the commander of a 
 vessel over the lives and liberties of those who were placed 
 under him, yet most were aware that there was a point 
 at which it was wise to pause. At the commencement of 
 the scene, there had been audible murmurs among the 
 crew, the significance of which the captain and mate 
 would understand. The habit of subordination, and the 
 knowledge that this was in a certain sense a voluntary 
 act on the part of Bill Sturdy, had prevented anything 
 more, but if the captain had gone to greater extremities, 
 the consequences might have been serious. 
 
 Meanwhile Antonio picked himself up, smarting under 
 the terrible wounds which had been inflicted by the lash 
 wielded with the whole of Bill Sturdy's enormous strength. 
 Indeed, although he had received but two stripes, and his 
 enemy thirteen, it may be doubted whether the pain in- 
 flicted by those two were not equal to that of the greater 
 number. 
 
 Antonio had slunk down into the forecastle to bathe his 
 back and obtain fresh clothes, for his shirt had been rent 
 asunder. Bill Sturdy, on the other hand, proceeded to 
 attire himself on deck and went about his work, without 
 showing outwardly the pain which he must have been 
 suffering. 
 
 Captain Brace took no public notice of the retribution 
 which had followed the punishment. He didn't dare to 
 act as he wished, and, therefore, chose to pass it un- 
 
Two Conferences. 181 
 
 noticed. But an hour afterward, as he sat in conference 
 with the mate, his fury burst the bounds he had imposed 
 upon it. 
 
 "Curse that fellow !" he exclaimed. "Is he forever 
 destined to thwart my designs? I felt that I could will- 
 ingly have flogged him myself till the last breath left 
 his body." 
 
 "It is a pity Antonio ventured to exceed his orders." 
 
 "Yes, the fool was richly repaid for his act, but I could 
 wish it had been by a different hand. 
 
 "That extra blow gave Sturdy a pretext for his sum- 
 mary vengeance. But for that his conduct could have 
 been construed into mutiny and disrespect to you." 
 
 "And then I might have put him in irons." 
 
 "You might do it now, but for " 
 
 "But for the crew, you would say. That alone prevents 
 me. The fellow, unluckily, has secured their sympathy. 
 Would that I could devise some way for taking vengeance 
 safely upon this rebellious scoundrel." 
 
 The mate leaned his head upon his hand, and gave 
 himself up to reflection. Something occurred to him, for, 
 lifting his head again, he asked : 
 
 "Have you ever been in Eio Janeiro, Captain Brace?" 
 
 "Never but once, and that some nine or ten years ago." 
 
 "There are desperadoes in that city, as in others," pur- 
 sued Randall, fixing his eyes intently upon the captain. 
 
 "I do not quite catch your meaning, Mr. Randall." 
 
 "Men who are little troubled by conscientious scruples, 
 
188 Two Conferences. 
 
 but are willing to undertake the most dangerous and 
 illegal enterprises — for small consideration." 
 
 "I begin to understand you now," said the captain. 
 
 "Shall I proceed?" 
 
 "Do so." 
 
 The mate rightly construed this into an intimation that 
 his proposition, though hinting at crime, would not prove 
 distasteful to the captain. This, knowing the character of 
 his superior officer, did not surprise him, and he proceeded. 
 
 "I think you apprehend my meaning, Captain Brace. 
 This man is a thorn in our sides. He is exerting a bad 
 influence on board the ship. He is undermining your 
 influence with the crew." 
 
 ''That is all true, Mr. Randall. What, then, is your 
 advice in this state of affairs ?" 
 
 "My advice is, that this fellow should be removed." 
 
 "To a place better fitted for him," suggested the captain, 
 with a grim smile. 
 
 "Precisely so." 
 
 "And through the agency of such men as you have 
 spoken of?" 
 
 "That is my proposition." 
 
 "It deserves thinking of. May I ask if you have any 
 acquaintance among the fraternity, or whether you have 
 ever had any occasion to employ their services?" 
 
 "I did on one occasion." 
 
 "Do you mind giving the particulars ?" 
 
 "To you, no. Some years since I shipped as common 
 
Two Conferences. 183 
 
 Bailor on board the Porcupine, bound from New York to 
 Eio. On the voyage one of the sailors on several occasions 
 insulted me, and I determined upon revenge. At Rio I fell 
 in with a desperate character, who for a comparatively small 
 sum engaged to do my bidding." 
 
 "Well." 
 
 "There is not much to tell. One night this man was 
 passing through a narrow street, quite unsuspicious of 
 danger, when he was suddenly struck from behind by a 
 bludgeon, and — he never came bach to the ship." 
 
 "Did no suspicion attach to you ?" 
 
 "How should there? Who was to betray me? Not my 
 agent, or in so doing he would betray himself. This is 
 the first time I have ever spoken of it, but I am safe with 
 you." 
 
 "Perfectly. You say the consideration was small." 
 
 "Fifty dollars only. I dare say the fellow considered 
 himself well paid. Besides he took whatever his victim 
 had about him." 
 
 "Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Randall. I will 
 furnish the money, if you will undertake the management 
 of the business when we reach Rio." 
 
 "With pleasure," replied the mate, and he probably spoke 
 the truth. 
 
 While this conversation was going on Charlie in another 
 part of the vessel was commiserating Bill Sturdy on his 
 injuries. 
 
184 Two Conferences. 
 
 "And it was on my account, too," said the boy, regret- 
 fully. 
 
 "Better me than you, my lad," said the old sailor stoutly. 
 "Don't trouble yourself about that. It was my own free 
 will, and if I had been unwilling all the power of the cap- 
 tain couldn't have made me submit to it. Besides there 
 was one thing that repaid me for it all. Antonio got some- 
 thing he'll remember to the latest day of his life, I reckon. 
 However, that ain't what I want to say now. It's just this : 
 I haven't any particular inducements to stay aboard this 
 vessel, and I've about made up my mind to give them the 
 slip at the first port we come to, if you'll go with me." 
 
 "Where do we touch first?" 
 
 "At Eio, I surmise." 
 
 "I'm ready to go with you, Bill, whenever you say the 
 word," said Charlie promptly. 
 
 "That's right, my lad." 
 
 And so the agreement was made. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DANGER THREATENS BILL STURDY. 
 
 It is my intention to pass rapidly over the time which 
 intervened between the events which have been described 
 and the arrival of the Bouncing Betsy at Eio Janeiro. 
 Nothing happened of sufficient interest to call for record. 
 
 As for Charlie Codman and Bill Sturdy, their position 
 was, unquestionably, more agreeable and less disturbed by- 
 incidents than before. This was not owing to any change 
 in the feelings of the captain and mate, but in consequence 
 of the iniquitous compact into which they had entered. 
 They felt secure of ultimate vengeance; they could, there' 
 fore, afford to wait. Indeed, they felt that they should be 
 more likely to secure the end they had in view if, for the 
 present, they should so act as to lull to sleep any suspicions 
 which might be entertained of their agency in the affair 
 after it was over. 
 
 But Bill Sturdy was not deceived. He determined to 
 keep his "weather-eye open," as he expressed it, and be on 
 the lookout for squalls. 
 
 So the time passed. 
 
 It was a bright, tropical day. The thick garments which 
 all had worn on leaving port were laid aside, and every one 
 was dressed in light and thin attire. 
 185 
 
186 Danger Threatens Bill Sturdy. 
 
 "We shall probably reach Eio to-morrow, Mr. Randall," 
 observed the captain. 
 
 "Yes; if the present wind holds, there can be no doubt 
 of it." 
 
 "And the little plan which we have been contemplating 
 need no longer be delayed." 
 
 Randall smiled acquiescence. 
 
 The wind held favorable, and the next evening saw them 
 in port. 
 
 The captain and mate went on shore, leaving the vessel 
 in charge of the second mate. 
 
 We. have nothing to do with the motions of the captain, 
 but will follow Randall, who, never backward in ill-doing, 
 at once set about the execution of his scheme. 
 
 Having been in the city before, he was well acquainted 
 with localities, and, therefore, was able to direct his steps at 
 once to that quarter where he felt he was most likely to 
 meet the man he was in quest of. 
 
 He entered a low drink ing-saloon, and ordered a glass of 
 liquor, partly to gratify his taste, partly that while drinking 
 he might have leisure to look about him. 
 
 It was a low, square room, dark and unsightly, frequented 
 evidently by the lowest ranks only. At this time there was 
 but one man present besides Randall. 
 
 This man was tall, low-browed, with shaggy, black eye- 
 brows, and a face on which villainy was stamped in Nature's 
 plainest and most ineffaceable characters. 
 
 "There's a man," thought the mate, "that will serve my 
 
Danger Threatens Bill Sin 187 
 
 turn, and, to judge from his looks, will be troubled by no 
 unnecessary scruples on the subject." 
 
 Meanwhile, the other, lifting his eyes from the glass, 
 had observed Eandall's close scrutiny, and chose to take 
 ©ffense at it. He rose from his seat, and, advancing toward 
 Randall, observed, in a menacing tone : 
 
 "It appears to me, seiior, that you are impertinent." 
 
 Eandall understood the language in which this was 
 spoken, and coolly inquired: 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "You have been staring at me as if you had some par- 
 ticular object in it." 
 
 "So I have," returned the mate, in the same tone as 
 before. 
 
 "Explain yourself sefior, and if, as I mistrust, you mean 
 to insult me, I will make you better acquainted with my 
 geod knife," and he tapped the knife significantly. 
 
 "It is an acquaintance which I do not court," said 
 Sandall, shrugging his shoulders. "But it appears to me 
 that it is not well talking without something to moisten the 
 $»oat. I shall be happy to have you drink with me." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, seiior, for my suspicions, which, I 
 Bee. were wrong. I see that you are a gentleman. Hence- 
 lorth I will treat you as such." 
 
 "I thought you would learn to know me better," said 
 BandaR, filling both glasses; "let me drink to our better 
 acquaintance." 
 
188 Danger Threatens Bill Sturdy. 
 
 Both sat down very amicably. The glass had made them, 
 friends. 
 
 "I should like to ask your advice on a certain point/' 
 said Eandall. 
 
 "I will give it with pleasure." 
 
 "I have an enemy — a deadly foe — whom I detest. What 
 would you do if you were in my place ?" 
 
 "You say he is your deadly foe?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I would give him a passport to another world. That is 
 my advice." 
 
 "And you would feel no compunctions?" 
 
 "No more than if I were crushing a spider." 
 
 "I will own, then," said Eandall, "that I have thought 
 of this, but it is difficult for me to act in the matter-." 
 
 "Then hire another to do it." 
 
 "Ah, if I could only find some brave man who would 
 undertake the job." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I would engage him to do it for me, if " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "If we could agree upon the terms." 
 
 "You need seek no farther for your man, then," said 
 the stranger, gulping down another glass. 
 
 "How is that?" asked Eandall, pretending not to under- 
 stand him fully. 
 
 "Because you see before you one who is willing to 
 undertake it." 
 
Danger Threatens Bill Sturdy. 189 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "And why not ?" 
 
 "Certainly, there is no good reason." 
 
 "Now tell me about it." 
 
 "First, let us settle about the price to be paid." 
 
 "As you please." 
 
 After some little discussion this was finally fixed at sixty 
 dollars. For this paltry sum, added to the booty which he 
 might find upon the person of his victim, this miserable 
 man was willing to commit one of the worst of crimes. 
 
 "Now," continued the mate, "I must give you some 
 directions which will enable you to identify the person." 
 
 "Is he a sailor ?" 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "On board what ship ?" 
 
 "The Bouncing Betsy." 
 
 "Lying where ?" 
 
 Randall indicated the wharf at which the vessel was 
 moored. 
 
 "Now describe the man." 
 
 "He is rather below the common height, broad-shoul- 
 dered, extraordinarily strong; in fact, such a Hercules that 
 it will be well for you to take him by surprise." 
 
 "This will make me equal with him," said the Brazilian, 
 displaying his knife. 
 
 "That and the darkness." 
 
 "When shall I be likely to meet him?" 
 
 "He will receive permission to come on shore to-morrow 
 
190 Danger Threatens Bill Sturd} 
 
 paid Randall. "You must be hovering abui -> ^ 
 vessel, and watch the sailors as they come from the 7**» t . 
 When you see him, you will follow him." 
 
 "Trust me for that." 
 
 "And when all is over, and you furnish me evidence that 
 you have done the deed, the money shall be yours." 
 
 "I require a portion in advance. How do I know but 
 you will play me false?" 
 
 "My good friend, I should expect, in that case, to become 
 your victim. However, your request is reasonable. You 
 shall have one-third of the sum stipulated in advance." 
 
 Tie placed twenty dollars in the hands of his companion, 
 and, rising, . lie then betook himself to the 
 
 ship, and, on the arrival of Captain Erace, acquainted him 
 with the result of his visit. The latter expressed great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bill Sturdy and Charlie were speaking of the 
 plan they had in view — that of escaping from the ship. 
 
 "Suppose," said Charlie, "we cannot obtain permission 
 to go on shore together." 
 
 "Then I will come to the wharf at midnight, and you 
 can leave your bunk unobserved and join me." 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE PASS OF DEATH. 
 
 "Have I permission to go on shore, Captain Bra< 
 Inquired Bill Sturdy on the following morning. 
 
 "I shall require your services on board during the day/' 
 said the captain, acting in accordance with the suggestion 
 and arrangements of the mate. "At nightfall you can go 
 if you like." 
 
 Charlie, learning from Bill Sturdy, the result of his 
 application, did not prefer a request till evening. His 
 request was unceremoniously refused. The captain had 
 bo desire that the boy should be present at the assault 
 upon Bill, as his presence might prevent the attack being 
 jaade, and its success, in consequence of Sturdy's great 
 strength, depended on its unexpectedness. 
 
 "Never mind," said Bill, in a low voice, "wait till mid- 
 night. Meanwhile, I will be seeking out a proper place 
 of concealment. When the cathedral clock strikes mid- 
 night, rise quietly and take a bundle of clothes, if you can 
 do it unobserved, and jump upon the wharf. I will be 
 waiting for you." 
 
 Cheered by this hope, Charlie was content to wait. 
 
 He went below, and opening his chest, put together 
 in a bundle the clothes which he had on when he went 
 191 
 
192 The Pass of Death. 
 
 on board the vessel for the first time. His little prepara- 
 tion having now been made, he sat down and commenced 
 a letter to his mother which it was his purpose to mail in 
 the city, to be completed when the result of his attempt 
 to escape should be known. 
 
 We must now follow the movements of the villain with 
 whom Randall had conferred. He had no idea of failing 
 to carry out his part of the contract. Aside from the 
 pecuniary inducement, his savage temper and utter want 
 of principle, made him rather court such adventures, even 
 for their own sake. Just before nightfall he stationed 
 himself at a point on the wharf where he would have an 
 opportunity of observing all who went on board the 
 
 AVith his keen eyes he scrutinized the forms of the 
 sailors with a view of verifying Randall's description, and 
 so picking out the one who was destined to be his victim. 
 Circumstances conspired to lead him to a wrong con- 
 clusion upon this point. 
 
 Bill Sturdy, was, at that time, below, making prepara- 
 tions to go on shore. It has already been remarked, that 
 previous to Bill's enrolment among the crew, Antonio had 
 been, physically, the most powerful among them. Al- 
 though inferior to Bill Sturdy, }^et he possessed a for- 
 midable amount of strength, and on board most vessels 
 might have challenged comparison with any. But if 
 Antonio was one in a hundred, Sturdy was one in a 
 thousaatk 
 
The Pass of Death. 193 
 
 Antonio was, in form, not altogether unlike Bill Sturdy. 
 At all events, the resemblance was so great that the mate's 
 description of Sturdy might easily be supposed to apply 
 to him. Hence, when the Brazilian cast a scrutinizing 
 glance over the persons of the crew, he at once selected 
 Antonio as the one intended. 
 
 "That is the fellow," he muttered. "He looks power- 
 ful, but my good knife will prevent his being dangerous 
 to me, provided I steal upon him from behind, and give 
 him one sharp, decisive blow." 
 
 Bill Sturdy was not the only one permitted to go on 
 shore that evening. Several others had similar permis- 
 sion extended to them, leaving behind only enough to 
 keep the proper watch on board the vessel. 
 
 A company, including Antonio, left the vessel together 
 some five minutes before Bill Sturdy made his appearance. 
 The Brazilian, fixing his attention upon Antonio, followed 
 them at a little distance, cautiously avoiding the appear- 
 ance of doing so, lest he might attract observation. He 
 did not expect to carry out his design at present, partly 
 because it was not yet dark, and partly also because he 
 wished to wait till Antonio was alone. He was resolved 
 to keep him in view, for hours, if need be, until a favorable 
 opportunity should present itself for the commission of 
 the crime he meditated. 
 
 The first place which the men visited was a low 
 drinking-saloon, situated on a street considered hardly 
 
194 The Pass of Death. 
 
 reputable. It was not long before they became noisy 
 and drunk. 
 
 One by one they staggered out of the drinking-saloon. 
 Among the last to go was Antonio. He had probably 
 drank more than any of his comrades, but he had a strong 
 head, and showed his potations less in his gait than many 
 of the rest. He walked out with a steady step, somewhat 
 to the disappointment of the Brazilian, who had been 
 keeping vigilant guard, and relied upon the effects of the 
 liquor to make him an easier conquest. 
 
 It was already dark, but the street was too public, and 
 he would be too liable to interruption and detection to 
 make it prudent to attack at present. He, therefore, 
 cautiously followed Antonio, hoping that he would pres- 
 ently turn into some narrow laue or alley. 
 
 In this hope he was not disappointed. At a little dis- 
 tance there was a narrow alley leading from the street 
 in which Antonio was now walking to another of equal 
 size. Antonio stood a little doubtful at the entrance, but 
 finally entered. If he had only known that there was 
 one close upon Iris heels who was tracking him with the 
 keenness of an Indian he might have hesitated before 
 entering what, to him, was destined to prove "the pass 
 of death." 
 
 The alley was a long one, little frequented at that hour, 
 and unlighted. Cautiously behind the doomed sailor 
 walked the hired assassin. And now Antonio is nearly 
 midway. Between them there is a distance of fifty feet. 
 
The Pass of Death. 195 
 
 Over this interval creeps the murderer with noiseless feet. 
 Then, snatching the ever-ready knife from his girdle, he 
 lifts his hand, and the descending knife is buried in the 
 back of Antonio, entering just below the neck. He sank 
 to the ground with a convulsive shudder, and a sharp cry 
 of pain. 
 
 The Brazilian stood over him. Antonio looked up into 
 his face, supposing it might be Bill Sturdy, whose enmity 
 he judged by his own. 
 
 Half-lifting himself from the ground with his last 
 remaining strength, he ejaculated feebly, "Were you hired 
 to do this ?" 
 
 "I was," said the assassin. 
 
 Antonio could have but one thought as to the one who 
 had instigated the murder. He was satisfied it was Bill, 
 and that thought made death doubly bitter. 
 
 Quickly stripping his victim of whatever he had about 
 him worth taking, his murderer crept away. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Charlie's escape. 
 
 Randall had made an appointment to meet his agent 
 at midnight at the place where they originally met 
 
 Some ten minutes before the hour he entered, and found 
 the Brazilian seated at a table with a bottle before him. 
 
 "I am here first," said the latter nonchalantly, as he 
 laid down a glass which he had drained. 
 
 "So it seems," said Randall. "And now, what suc- 
 cess?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "The best." 
 
 "You have " 
 
 "I have earned my reward." 
 
 "Good !" exclaimed the mate, his eyes flashing with 
 revengeful malice. 
 
 "And now," said the assassin coolly, "I am ready to 
 receive my pay." 
 
 "You shall have it as soon as you prove to me that 
 you have stated the truth." 
 
 "Do you dare to doubt my word?" said the Brazilian 
 fiercely. 
 
 "Not at all" 
 
Charlie's Escape. 197 
 
 "Why, then, do you demand this proof? Have I not 
 told you?" 
 
 '"Because," said Randall, "you must know, that in this 
 matter I am the agent of another, and that the money 
 with which I pay you is not mine, but only what he has 
 intrusted to me." 
 
 "Well ?" 
 
 "You will easily understand that, though I may be per- 
 fectly satisfied with your assurance, he is a different 
 person. He has never met you, and may very reasonably 
 require some proof that the deed has been done." 
 
 "Would you know the hair of this man?" asked the 
 Brazilian. 
 
 "I should." 
 
 The murderer drew from his bosom a lock of hair 
 which he had severed from the head of his victim. 
 
 Randall looked at it eagerly, turned pale, and uttered 
 an exclamation of mingled surprise and dismay. 
 
 "You have made a great mistake," he said. 
 
 "A mistake !" echoed the other. 
 
 "Yes," said Randall; "you must have killed the wrong 
 man !" 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "Because the hair should be sandy. This is black." 
 
 "Beware," said the assassin suspiciously, "how you at- 
 tempt to trick me out of my reward. The knife which 
 has drunk the blood of one can, on occasion, do the same 
 tiling for another." 
 
198 Charlie's Escape. 
 
 "Your suspicions are unjust/' said the mate. "In any 
 event, you are welcome to what you have already received, 
 and we must enter upon a new contract for the other." 
 
 "Umph !" muttered his companion, only half-appeased. 
 
 "And now let us go and see who has been the victim 
 ©f this unlucky mistake." 
 
 Together they proceeded cautiously to the alley where 
 the sailor yet lay, cold and rigid, his face wearing the 
 look of dark, sullen hatred and ferocity which had been 
 habitual to it in life. 
 
 "Good heavens !" exclaimed Bandall. "This is An- 
 tonio." 
 
 "Is it not the man you intended ?" 
 
 "No; it is his deadly foe. But what a fearful look 
 he wears in death. Was there any struggle?" 
 
 "No; he had no chance." 
 
 "You did not kill him instantly?" 
 
 "He had time to ask a question." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "He asked if I had been hired to murder him." 
 
 "And you answered " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you tell him by whom you were hired?" 
 
 "I had no opportunity. He had just strength to ask 
 tfoe question, and then died." 
 
 "He supposed it to be another," said Randall. Uut 
 it can't be helped, and we may as well leave this place, 
 
Charlie's Escape. 199 
 
 or we may incur suspicion. I don't know that I care 
 much for the mistake. He was an ugly fellow." 
 
 "About the other?" 
 
 "If you will be on the wharf to-morrow morning, I 
 will take care that the man is on deck. You could not 
 fail to recognize him, but to avoid all mistake, I will 
 go forward and speak to him." 
 
 "And am I to receive no more than twenty dollars for 
 what I have already done?" asked the Brazilian dis- 
 contentedly. 
 
 "Did you take nothing from the corpse?" 
 
 The assassin had found considerable money, and the 
 thought of this tended to appease him. 
 
 "You are welcome to that, whatever it is, and for the 
 new enterprise you shall have as much as I promised 
 in the first place. You see, therefore, that you will be 
 a gainer by the mistake that has taken place, while I shall 
 not be out of pocket by it." 
 
 "You said you were but an agent." 
 
 "So I am, but this money will come from me." 
 
 Here the two villains parted company, one betaking 
 himself to his ship, the other returning to the drinking- 
 saloon, where he spent the remainder of the night in 
 drunken revelry. 
 
 In the meantime, the man against whose life Randall 
 had plotted unsuccessfully was preparing another dis- 
 appointment for the mate. 
 
 On leaving the ship, not dreaming how important to 
 
200 Charlie's Escape. 
 
 him had been the ten minutes by which his comrades had 
 preceded him, Bill Sturdy struck for the central part of 
 the city by the most direct route. 
 
 Turning a corner, he unexpectedly fell in with a sailor 
 who had been a messmate on a former voyage. Bill 
 ascertained that his comrade was about to sail in two 
 days for Liverpool, and from thence to New York. 
 
 "Can your captain take another hand?" asked Sturdy. 
 
 "I have no doubt he would like one, for we are short- 
 handed. We lost a sailor overboard just before we got 
 into Eio." 
 
 "Do you carry any passengers?" 
 
 "A few." 
 
 "1 shall want to secure a berth for one." 
 
 "You don't mean to say, Bill, that you've been spliced?" 
 
 "Not quite so bad as that. The passenger is a boy." 
 
 "A son of yours ?" 
 
 "I wish he was," said Bill earnestly; "but I'll tell 
 you more about this matter another time. For the pres- 
 ent, keep dark. And that reminds me, can you tell me 
 of any quiet, decent place where the lad and I can come 
 to anchor?" 
 
 "I know of a widow who will give you good rooms." 
 
 Bill took the address, and toward twelve o'clock he 
 returned to the wharf at which the vessel was lying. While 
 he was standing in the shadow of a large building the 
 cathedral clock struck twelve. 
 
Charlie's Escape. 201 
 
 A moment after a youthful form appeared upon deck, 
 descended the side swiftly, and stepped on the wharf. 
 
 "Here I am, my lad," said Sturdy, in a low voice, coming 
 out from his place of concealment. 
 
 "I was afraid you wouldn't be here," whispered Charlie. 
 
 "Trust me for that. And now we must be making sail, 
 or the pirates will be after us." 
 
 And this is the way Charlie took leave of the Bouncing 
 Betsy, and we will not attempt to depict the rage and 
 vexation of Randall and the captain when they ascertained 
 that Bill Sturdy had made his escape from the vessel and 
 taken Charlie with him. For they entertained no doubt 
 from the previous intimacy of the two that they had de- 
 serted the ship in company. They instituted as strict a 
 search as they were able, and even offered a reward to any 
 of the crew who should be instrumental in bringing back 
 either, but particularly the boy. None of the sailors, how- 
 ever, would have betrayed Charlie, even if they had had the 
 opportunity. Captain Brace was finally obliged to put to 
 sea without those whom he was so desirous of getting back 
 into his power. He was compelled at the last to ship two 
 new hands in place of Bill Sturdy and Antonio. 
 
 As for Bill Sturdy, he embarked on the Liverpool-bound 
 vessel. He was desirous that Charlie should go as passen- 
 ger, offering to pay his fare, that he might be spared the 
 hardships of a boy on board ship. But to this arrange- 
 ment Charlie strongly objected. He said he had no inten- 
 tion of being idle, and as to the hardships, he was willing 
 
2us Charlie's Escape. 
 
 xo encounter them. Bill, therefore, withdrew his objections, 
 and Charlie became one of the crew. He soon became a 
 favorite, and as the captain and mate were quite 
 different in character and disposition from those of the 
 Bouncing Betsy, his voyage proved much more pleasant and 
 satisfactory. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 FIRST LESSONS. 
 
 ft will be remembered that Mrs. Codman, after the ab- 
 duction of her son, was successful in obtaining the post of 
 governess to a rather playful and mischievous young lady, 
 the only daughter of a wealthy merchant named Bowman. 
 
 Mrs. Codman found her pupil as playful as a kitten, 
 and about as fond of study. To confess the truth, Miss 
 Bert Bowman was deplorably ignorant for a young lady of 
 her age. Her governess, however, soon ascertained that it 
 was from no want of natural capacity, but rather l^ecause 
 she had been so much indulged that nothing had been 
 required of her beyond what the young lady chose to per- 
 form, and that was exceedingly little. In a private con- 
 versation with Mrs. Codman, Mr. Bowman explained the 
 deficiencies of Bert with their cause, and went on to say : 
 
 "Now, my dear madam, I wish to surrender Bert to your 
 charge entirely. I feel assured that I may rely upon your 
 judgment to adopt such a course as may be best adapted 
 to reconcile her to study, of which, at present, she has a 
 great dread. I would not counsel too great strictness at 
 first, though I do not apprehend that from you. Neither 
 perhaps ought we to try to advance very rapidly at first. 
 203 
 
204 First Lessons. 
 
 Step by step, will be the most judicious way. In regard to 
 hours, text-books, and studies generally, you will do as 
 you think best." 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Bowman," replied Mrs. Codman, "for 
 your dependence on my judgment, and hope to deserve it. 
 I hope my young pupil, who, I am convinced is not wanting 
 in intelligence, will do justice to her natural capacity." 
 
 The next day Mrs. Codman commenced her undertaking, 
 for such it may be appropriately called. 
 
 "Bertha," said she, pointing to the clock, "it is nine 
 o'clock. Suppose we commence our studies." 
 
 "Just let me have another race with Topsy," said Bert, 
 who was flying round the room in pursuit of the black 
 kitten, who was evidently regarded by her young mistress 
 as a congenial companion. 
 
 "I'm afraid I must say no, my dear child," said Mrs. 
 Codman gently; "there is nothing like punctuality. So if 
 you will just ring the bell, I will ask Jane to take away 
 Topsy for the present." 
 
 "Can't Topsy come to school with me?" asked Bert, 
 disappointed. 
 
 "I'm afraid if she did my other pupil would not make 
 very much progress." 
 
 Bert unwillingly acquiesced in the dismission of her 
 favorite companion. 
 
 "You won't keep me as long as they do in school, will 
 you, Mrs. Codman ?" asked Bert. "If I had to study four 
 or six hours, I should certainly go into a fit." 
 
First Lessons. 205 
 
 "I dare say you would/' replied her teacher, smiling. 
 "Therefore I shall not keep you so long. In fact, as you 
 are the only scholar, we shall not bind ourselves to so many 
 hours, but rather to so much learned, so that it will depend 
 a good deal on how well you study." 
 
 "That's good," said Bert. "Only, Mrs. Codman, you 
 mustn't be too hard upon me. I don't believe I can get 
 very long lessons." 
 
 "I mean to be quite easy at first. I shall not ask much, 
 but that little I shall be strict in requiring." 
 
 Bert wasn't quite sure how she liked the latter part of 
 this remark. 
 
 "Before setting you any lessons, I must find out how 
 much you know." 
 
 "I guess it won't take me long to tell you all I ever 
 learned." 
 
 "Here is a reading-book. Let me hear you read." 
 
 Bert took the book, and stumbled through a paragraph, 
 invariably mispronouncing all words of over one syllable. 
 
 "There," said she, taking a long breath; "I'm glad 
 that is over." 
 
 "Now," said Mrs. Codman, taking the book, "let me 
 read it aloud." 
 
 She was an excellent reader, and Bert, though she could 
 not read well herself, recognized the fact. 
 
 "I wish I could read as well as that," said Bert. "How 
 awfully you must have studied when you were a girl." 
 
 "Not so hard as you think, perhaps," said her teacher, 
 
206 First Lessons. 
 
 smiling. "Success depends more upon a series of small 
 efforts than upon any great one." 
 
 "Do you think I shall ever read well?" asked Bert 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "I am sure you will, if you will give a moderate amount 
 of attention. Do you know anything of arithmetic ?" 
 "Do you mean the multiplication table?" 
 "Yes, that is a part of it." 
 
 "Yes," said Bert, "I know some lines about it. Charlie 
 [Morrill taught me them one day." 
 "What are they?" 
 Bert repeated the following lines: 
 "Multiplication is vexation, 
 Division is as bad. 
 The rule of Three doth trouble me, 
 And Practise makes me mad. 
 
 Mrs. Codman smiled. 
 
 "Perhaps you will like them better as you grow better 
 acquainted," she said. "Can you tell me how much are 
 four times four?" 
 
 Bert went through a variety of motions in counting 
 her fingers, and finally announced as the result of her 
 computation, that four times four made twenty-nine. 
 
 "That is hardly right." 
 
 "I'm awful ignorant, ain't I?" asked Bert. 
 
 "Considerably so, I confess. But we shall be able to 
 remedy that." 
 
 "You won't make me study my eyes out?" 
 
 "That would be a pity. You see mine are not yet gone, 
 
First Lessons. 207 
 
 and I don't mean to ask you to study any harder than 
 I did." 
 
 Bert looked at the eyes of her teacher which were quite 
 as bright as her own, and lost her apprehensions on that 
 Bcore. 
 
 "Ill tell you why I asked/"' said she, after a pause. 
 "There's a girl that goes to school — she's only twelve 
 years old — and she has to wear spectacles, and I heard 
 somebody say it was because she studied so hard. I 
 shouldn't want to be obliged to wear sj>ectacles." 
 
 Mrs. Codman could not forbear laughing at the idea 
 of her frolicsome little scholar, with a pair of glasses 
 perched upon her nose, and promised her that if she 
 found there was any prospect of her being obliged to 
 wear them, she would advise at once giving up study. 
 
 "Then I hope," thought Bert, "I shall need them soon." 
 
 "Now," proceeded Mrs. Codman, "I am going to give 
 you short and easy lessons in reading, spelling, and 
 arithmetic. It won't take you long to get them, if you 
 only try. When you have recited them, we are to go out 
 and ride in the carriage." 
 
 "'Oh, that will be nice," exclaimed the child. "Tell me 
 what the lesson is, quick." 
 
 The lessons were got and said sooner than could have 
 been expected, and so Bert had taken the first step in 
 ascending the hill of learning. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXIIL 
 
 A LETTER FROM CHARLIE. 
 
 Bert had plenty of capacity. She could get her lessons 
 in an incredibly short time when there was any induce- 
 ment. At other times she would sit for two or three 
 hours with the book before her, but with her attention 
 straying to other things, and, as a natural consequence, 
 would know no more at the end of that time than at the 
 beginning. Fortunately Mrs. Codman had the gift of 
 patience, and though she was gentle, was, at the same 
 time, firm. 
 
 Of one thing Bert became convinced — that study was 
 not so terrible as she had imagined. At the end of three 
 months she had made so great an improvement, that her 
 father was equally surprised and delighted, and was dis- 
 posed to do full justice to Mrs. Codman's merits as a 
 governess. 
 
 "Who knows but you will become quite a learned lady 
 in time, Bert?" he said playfully. 
 
 "No doubt of it, papa," replied Bert. "By the time 
 I am eighteen, I expect to wear green glasses and write 
 books." 
 
 208 
 
A Letter from Charlie. 209 
 
 'That will, indeed, be a miraculous transformation. 
 And what is to become of Topsy, then ?" 
 
 "Oh, she'll be an old cat then, and won't feel any: 
 more like racing round than I do. She'll just curl up 
 in a chair beside me, and I will use her fur to wipe my 
 pens on. She is just the right color for that, you know." 
 
 "Quite a sensible plan, I confess. Indeed, it will be 
 well for you to have something of that kind to be em- 
 ployed about, as you will probably have no beaux." 
 
 "No beaux, papa? And why am I to have no beaux ? 
 I should like to know?" 
 
 "Because it takes two to make a bargain." 
 
 "Well, perhaps I sha'n't," replied Bert, tossing her head. 
 "Perhaps you don't know that I have picked out my 
 future husband." 
 
 "Whew ! That is getting along faster than I had antici- 
 pated. May I be permitted to know who is to be my 
 6on-in-law? I think I can guess, however." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Mr. Bradley." 
 
 Mr. Bradley was a bachelor, of about fifty, partially 
 bald and more than partially homely, who had now and 
 then dined with Mr. Bowman, and had taken more notice 
 of the young lady than she at all desired. 
 
 "Mr. Bradley !" repeated Bert, in a contemptuous man- 
 ner. "I'd a good deal rather marry Topsy." 
 
 ^Perhaps," suggested her father, "the superior length' 
 
210 A Letter from Charlie. 
 
 of the kitten's whiskers causes you to give her the prefer- 
 ence. Am I to understand that she is your choice?" 
 
 "No ; it is a very handsome boy, and his name is 
 Charlie Codman." 
 
 A look of regret stole over Mrs. Codman's face — the 
 expression of a sorrow caused by her uncertainty with 
 regard to Charlie's fate. 
 
 "A son of yours?" asked Mr. Bowman, in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Mrs. Codman replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "You ought to see his miniature, papa. He is very 
 handsome." 
 
 "And you have lost your heart to him. Perhaps he may 
 not return the compliment." 
 
 "I hope he will," said the young lady. 
 
 "Perhaps Mrs. Codman will allow me to look at the 
 miniature of my future son-in-law," said Mr. Bowman, 
 not guessing the mother's sorrow and its cause. 
 
 While Mrs. Codman was absent from the rocm, Bert 
 gave her father a brief account of Charlie's disappearance. 
 
 "You must pardon me, Mrs. Codman," said Mr. Bow- 
 man, when she had returned, "for speaking in the lively 
 tone I did. I little guessed the anxiety you must feel 
 about your son. Is this the miniature ? A very attractive 
 face. I don't wonder at Bert's taking a fancy to it. I 
 cannot wonder at your sorrow in losing, even for a time, 
 euch a boy as this face seems to indicate." 
 
A Letter from Charlie. 211 
 
 ''You think there is a chance of his coming bad. to 
 me?" asked Mrs. Codman anxiously. 
 
 "I am hardly prepared to express an opinion on the 
 scanty information which Bert has been able to give me* 
 If you are willing to tell me the story in detail, I will 
 tell you what I think of the chances." 
 
 Mrs. Codman told the story, mentioning also the na::6 
 of Peter Manson, and the language which he had used. 
 
 "I sometimes see this Manson," said the merchant, "and 
 know him by reputation. He is a miser." 
 
 "He pretends to be very poor." 
 
 "All pretense. I do not see what object he could have 
 had in spiriting your son away." 
 
 Further conversation followed, but, as might be ex- 
 pected, no satisfactory result was reached. Mrs. Codmnn, 
 however, felt relieved and more hopeful in the knowledge 
 that her employer knew of her loss, and would do what 
 he could to discover Charlie. 
 
 It was only a week later that the gentleman came into 
 the school-room with a smile upon his face. 
 
 "Father, you bring good news; isn't it so?" said Bert. 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 Mrs. Codman looked up with a glance of eager inquiry. 
 
 "As I took up the morning paper,*' said the merchant, 
 "my eyes, by chance, ran down the list of advertised 
 letters. Recognizing the name of Mrs. Codman among 
 them, I took the liberty of sending to the office for it. 
 It is post-marked at Rio Janeiro." 
 
212 A Letter from Charlie. 
 
 "Oh, give it to me quick !" exclaimed Mrs. Codman, in 
 agitation. 
 
 "Is it from Charlie ?" asked Bert. 
 
 "It is, it is !" exclaimed the happy mother, as she recog- 
 nized the familiar handwriting; and, tearing open the 
 letter, she devoured the contents. 
 
 It was the letter which Charlie had commenced on. 
 shipboard, and it read: 
 
 "Dearest Mother: I hope this letter will reach you 
 in safety, and will relieve you of some of the anxiety 
 you must have felt about your wandering boy. You will 
 start with surprise when you see where this is dated. 
 I am three thousand miles from you, dear mother, but 
 not by my own act. But I must tell you how I came to 
 leave you. (This portion of the letter is omitted.) You 
 mustn't think I have suffered all the time on board the 
 ship, though it is hard work, and, for some reason, the 
 captain and mate have both been my enemies. 
 
 "I have had one faithful friend, to whom I am very 
 much indebted. He is a rough sailor, and neither edu- 
 cated nor refined, but he has a warm heart, and has been 
 very kind to your boy. Indeed, mother, I don't know 
 how much trouble I should have had, if it hadn't been 
 for honest Bill Sturdy. Some time I hope you will have 
 the pleasure of taking him by the hand, and thanking 
 him for all he has done for me. The greatest act of 
 friendship for which I have to thank him I will not write 
 here, but I will tell you some time. 
 
A Letter from Charlie. 213 
 
 "As we were neither of us treated as well as we ought 
 to be, we have deserted the vessel, and transferred our- 
 selves to a ship bound to Liverpool, and thence to New 
 York; so that it may be some months from now before 
 I see you again. 
 
 "I am so afraid you have suffered since I left you, not 
 only from solitude and anxiety about me, but have been 
 compelled to labor beyond your strength. You were so 
 poorly paid for that horrid sewing, and had to work so 
 hard at it. But when I come back we will live together, 
 as we once did; and though it will not be a luxurious 
 home, it shall be a happy one. As you may have moved 
 elsewhere, you must leave word with those who occupy 
 our old room where you live, so that when I come back, 
 which will be just as soon as I can, I may come at once 
 to you, and tell you how much I have missed you. From 
 your affectionate son, Charlie." 
 
 Knowing that Mr. Bowman felt a friendly interest in 
 Charlie's welfare, Mrs. Codman, her eyes dim with happy 
 tears, handed him the letter, which he read attentively. 
 
 "A very good letter," he said, "and very creditable to 
 the writer. When he returns, if you and he are both 
 willing, I will receive him at once into my office. His 
 letter is sufficient recommendation." 
 
 How differently the world looks according to the mood 
 
 in which we view it. No one could have convinced Mrs. 
 
 Codman, after the reception of this letter, that it was not 
 
 l paradise. The patient sorrow which her face 
 
£14 A Letter from Charlie. 
 
 had worn the day before, gave place to a sweet and happy 
 expression, which made her look quite charming. 
 
 "Mrs. Codman is really a beautiful woman," thought 
 Mr. Bowman, as, unobserved, he watched her laughing 
 with Bert, glancing over the newspaper which he was 
 supposed to be reading. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE BETUftN OF THE "BETSY." 
 
 It was a fine morning when the Bouncing Betsy, aften 
 a quick and prosperous voyage, entered Boston harbor. 
 There had been few or no changes on board since the ship 
 left Rio Janeiro on the passage out. Captain Brace was 
 still in command, and unfortunately had not at all 
 mended his ways, but had richly merited, as he had ob- 
 tained, the general dislike of the crew, not one of whom 
 would sail with him again unless forced by dire necessity. 
 Second in odium, as he was in command, came Randall, 
 the mate. He cared little how he was regarded by the 
 men under him. To him the voyage had proved in some 
 respects a disappointment. He had not recovered from 
 the vexation occasioned by the escape of Bill Sturdy and 
 Charlie. Tie had anticipated with eagerness the return 
 to Boston, where he hoped first to meet with the deserters, 
 and secondly, he intended to wrest a further sum from 
 Peter Manson. 
 
 Before visiting the miser, however, it was his intention 
 to find out what he could about Mrs. Codman, and how 
 she had fared. He hoped in his vindietiveness she had 
 215 
 
216 The Return of the "Betsy." 
 
 been reduced to the deepest distress, and the hardest 
 shifts to procure a livelihood. 
 
 He made his way to the tenement-house where Mrs. 
 Codman formerly lodged. He went up to the door of her 
 former room and knocked, but it was opened by a 
 stranger, who could give him no information about the 
 person for whom he inquired. 
 
 Perplexed and quite at a loss how to obtain a clue to 
 the knowledge he desired, he went back to Washington 
 Street, and mingled in the busy throng that crowded the 
 sidewalks. He walked leisurely along, gazing listlessly 
 into the shop windows, but intent upon his own thoughts. 
 
 Chancing to let his eyes rest upon a passing carriage, 
 he was startled by the glimpse of a face which he waa 
 sure he knew. It was an elegant carriage, drawn by two 
 spirited horses, and evidently the equipage of a person 
 of wealth. A negro coachman in livery sat upon the box, 
 and wielded the reins with a dexterous hand. There were 
 two persons inside — one was a child of ten, who was 
 talking in an animated strain to a lady with a beautiful 
 and expressive face, who sat beside her. 
 
 These two persons were Bert and her governess. The 
 latter was looking better than when she was introduced 
 to the reader. Surrounded by comforts and luxuries, and 
 above all relieved from her most pressing anxiety by the 
 letter which she had received from Charlie, her cheeks 
 had recovered their wonted fullness and bloom, and the 
 
The Return of the "Betsy." 217 
 
 rare beauty for which she had been distinguished in her 
 youth. 
 
 Eandall could scarcely believe his eyes. This was the 
 woman whom he had pictured to himself as struggling 
 amid the deepest poverty to obtain a scanty subsistence, 
 worn out by harrowing anxiety for the loss of her only 
 son. What a contrast to his anticipations was the reality ! 
 He saw her tastefully dressed — the picture of health and 
 happiness — with the same beauty that had dazzled him 
 in times past, surrounded by evidences of prosperity and 
 luxury. 
 
 "What can it mean ?" he thought in bewilderment. "Is 
 it possible that my eyes are deceived by an accidental 
 resemblance ?" 
 
 The carriage had already passed him, but as it was 
 obliged to proceed slowly on account of a press of traffic, 
 he had no difficulty, by quickening his pace a little, in 
 overtaking it, and again scanning the face whose presence 
 there had filled him with so much surprise. 
 
 The first explanation which suggested itself to him as 
 possible was, that Mrs. Codman had attracted the atten- 
 tion of some wealthy gentleman, who forgetting the dis- 
 tance which circumstances had established between them, 
 had laid himself and his fortune at her feet. But even 
 then how could she appear so light-hearted and happy 
 unless Charlie had returned? There was another sup- 
 position that old Peter Manson had died, and on his 
 death-bed, repenting his past wickedness and injustice, 
 
218 The Return of the "Betsy." 
 
 had repaired the wrong of which he had been guilty, at 
 far as lie could, by leaving all his possessions to Mrs. 
 Codman. This was to Eandall the most disagreeable sup- 
 position of the two, for it would effectually stand in the 
 way of the designs which he cherished against the same 
 property. 
 
 Determined not to lose sight of Mrs. Codman, he with 
 considerable difficulty kept pace with the carriage. It 
 chanced that Bert and her governess were just returning 
 from a drive, otherwise they might have led Randall a 
 long chase. At present they were not very far from home. 
 
 From the opposite side of the street Eandall watched 
 them descend the steps of the carriage and enter the 
 house. He paused long enough afterward to cross the 
 street, note down the name of Bowman together with 
 the number, that he might be able to identify it hereafter. 
 He then examined the house itself with some curiosity. 
 The appearance of the house indicated clearly enough the 
 wealth of the owner. 
 
 "I wish I knew," muttered the mate, "on what footing 
 Mrs. Codman resides here. She must either be the wife 
 cf the proprietor or his housekeeper, one or the other." 
 
 At this moment an infirm old woman limped out of 
 the side-gate, with a basket slung on her arm. 
 
 Pressing forward, he accosted her. 
 
 "You seem heavily laden, my good woman." 
 
 "Yes," said she, "thanks to the good lady who lives 
 in the house." 
 
The Keturn of the "Betsy." 219 
 
 "What is her name?" 
 
 "It's Mrs. Codman. Do you know her, sir?" 
 
 **f am not sure. I once knew some one of the name. 
 But there is a different name on the door — Bowman." 
 
 "Yes, he is the gentleman of the house." 
 
 "And Mrs. Codman?" 
 
 "She is the young lady's governess." 
 
 "How long has she been there?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir.'' 
 
 "Never mind. It doesn't matter much.'- 
 
 "I wish I could tell you, sir," 
 
 "It's of no consequence at all, and you needn't mention 
 that any questions have been asked you. But I am afraid 
 I have been detaining you. Here is something to pay 
 you for your trouble." 
 
 So saying, he slipped half a dollar into her hand and, 
 avoiding her profuse thanks, walked hastily away. 
 
 "Now, for a visit to the miser," he said to himself 
 
CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 CHARLIE TURNS UP UNEXPECTEDLY. 
 
 There was but little variety in the monotonous life of 
 Peter Manson. His life was one struggle for money, 
 which seemed to be the end and aim of his existence. 
 But what did he propose to do with it all? He was not 
 an old man yet, but all the infirmities of age were 
 upon him. 
 
 Peter had not forgotten nor ceased to lament the heavy 
 draft which had been made upon him by Eandall. The 
 thousands which he had left could not compensate him 
 for the one he had lost. So, in the hope of making it 
 up, he strove to live even more economically than before, 
 if, indeed, that were possible. The additional privations 
 to which he subjected himself began to tell upon the old 
 man's constitution. He grew thinner and weaker and 
 more shriveled than before, and all this to save a penny 
 or two additional each day. 
 
 As Peter was crawling feebly along toward his gloomy 
 den one afternoon, clad in the invariable blue cloak, he 
 was startled by hearing a hoarse voice behind him, call- 
 ing out: 
 
 "Peter Manson — Peter, I say!" 
 220 
 
Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 221 
 
 "Who calls?" asked Peter, in a quavering voice, slowly 
 turning round. 
 
 "Don't you remember me ?" asked Randall, for it was he. 
 
 Peter muttered something unintelligible as he cast a 
 terrified glance at the mate, and quickened his pace. 
 
 "You're not very polite, Peter," said the other, quickly 
 overtaking and joining the old man. "Is this the way 
 to greet an old friend whom you have not seen for 
 nearly a year?" 
 
 Peter looked anxious and alarmed, and glanced askance 
 at his companion. 
 
 By this time they had reached the miser's quarters, and 
 Peter, taking out a key, opened the door. He opened 
 it just sufficiently to admit himself, and was then about 
 to close it when Randall, unceremoniously pushing him 
 aside, entered also. 
 
 "By your leave, Peter, I will spend a short time with, 
 you." 
 
 "I have no fire," said Peter Manson hastily. 
 
 "I dare say not," said Randall carelessly, "but you can 
 easily kindle one." 
 
 "I— I have no fuel." 
 
 "None at all?" 
 
 "Why, a little — a very little," stammered Peter uneasily. 
 
 "I thought so. Come, lead the way. I won't trouble 
 you to light the fire. I'll do it myself." 
 
 With something that sounded like a groan, the old man. 
 
222 Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 
 
 led the way, and ushered his unwelcome guest into his 
 room. 
 
 Eandall used as much wood in kindling a fire as would 
 have lasted Peter a whole day. 
 
 "You will ruin me/' he said, in dismay. 
 
 "Then 3'ou'll be ruined in a good cause," said Eandall. 
 "But I say, Peter, don't you remember what we talked 
 about when I visited you last?" 
 
 The old man groaned, thinking of the thousand dollars. 
 
 "Seems to me it has not left a very agreeable impression 
 upon your mind," remarked his companion. "Don't 
 you want me to tell you of the boy that I spirited away?" 
 
 "Is he dead?" asked Peter eagerly. 
 
 "No; curse him, he escaped from me." 
 
 "You — you didn't let him know about the money?" 
 
 "Which you felonioxisly kept from him? Was that what 
 you mean?" 
 
 «Ye— yes." 
 
 "No, I didn't." 
 
 Peter looked relieved. 
 
 "Where is he now?" 
 
 "Heaven knows ! I don't. He deserted from the ship 
 at Pio Janeiro. But let me ask you, in turn, Peter, what 
 has become of the mother, whom each of us has so much 
 reason to hate?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Then she is no longer a tenant of yours?" 
 
 "She moved in less than a month after you went away." 
 
Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 223 
 
 "Couldn't pay her rent ?" 
 
 "Yes; she paid it as long as she stayed. I have not 
 seen or heard anything of her since." 
 
 "I have," said the mate significantly. 
 
 "You !" exclaimed Peter eagerly. 
 
 "I saw her to-day." 
 
 "How — where ?" 
 
 "In a carriage." 
 
 "A carriage !" echoed Peter, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes; looking as bright and handsome as when she 
 rejected you with scorn." 
 
 The miser frowned. 
 
 "Where did you meet her?" 
 
 "On Washington Street. I was walking there when 
 I chanced to look into a gay carriage that was driving 
 by, and saw her." 
 
 "Are you sure you are not mistaken?" 
 
 "No. I followed her to her place of residence." 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 "No. Mt. Yernon Street." 
 
 "She must be rich, then." 
 
 "Xo; ehe is a governess there, though enjoying, I 
 should think, unusual privileges, and is, no doubt, happy." 
 
 Peter made no reply, hut seemed occupied by other 
 thoughts. 
 
 "And now, Peter, have you any idea what I came for?" 
 
 "To tell me this." 
 
 "I am i- t fool enough to take all this trouble." 
 
224 Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 
 
 'Then I don't know." 
 
 "I want money, Peter." 
 
 Peter could not be said to change color, but he grew 
 more ghastly than before, at this demand. 
 
 "I have nothing to give you," he said. 
 
 "Tell that to the marines. You must give me another 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 "Another thouand dollars!" exclaimed the old man. 
 "Where do you think I should get it? Did I not im- 
 poverish myself in satisfying your last demand, and have 
 I not been obliged to live on bread and water since ?" 
 
 Eandal 1 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I dare say you have lived on bread and water, but as 
 to being obliged to, that is nonsense. I ask you again to 
 give me a thousand dollars. You will have thousands 
 left." 
 
 "I shall be a beggar," said the old man passionately. 
 
 "A beggar !" returned Eandall, laughing scornfully. 
 
 "Yes," said Peter with energy. "You promised when 
 I gave you a thousand dollars" — his voice faltered as he 
 recalled the sacrifice — "that you would ask no more. Now, 
 you come back for another sum as large, and it is not yet 
 a year. You shall not have it ! Not if I had it fifty times 
 over." 
 
 "Bethink you what you are saying, old man," said Ean- 
 dall menacingly. "Do you know that I can go to Mrs. 
 Codman, and denounce you?" 
 
 "You will not," said Peter, trembling. 
 
Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 225 
 
 "But I will, unless you comply with my demand. Now 
 what do you say? Better be reasonable, and consent, be- 
 fore I compel you.'' 
 
 "Xever !" exclaimed the miser desperately. 
 
 "I will denounce you to the police. Shall I have the 
 money ?" 
 
 But Peter was no longer to be moved, even by his fears. 
 His love of money overcame every other consideration, and 
 again he exclaimed, "Never !" with all the energy of which 
 he was capable. 
 
 "Is this your final answer?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Then I will help myself," said Randall, coolly, leaving 
 his chair, and beginning to lift up the trapdoor, beneath 
 which was the miser's box of treasure. 
 
 As soon as Peter fairly comprehended his design, and 
 saw the money in the grasp of the purloiner, unable to 
 restrain himself, he threw himself upon the mate with a 
 cry as of a lioness deprived of her young, and grasped 
 the strong man by the throat with fingers, which, though 
 naturally weak, rage and despair made strong. At all 
 events, it was not particularly comfortable, and provoked 
 (Randall, who seized the old man in his strong arms, and, 
 with a muttered curse, hurled him to the floor, where he 
 lay pale and senseless. 
 
 "Confusion!" muttered Randall, in dismay, for Peter 
 had uttered a shrill scream as he fell. "I am afraid I 
 shall get into an ugly scrape." 
 
226 Charlie Turns Up Unexpectedly. 
 
 He was not altogether wrong. 
 
 The scream had been heard by two. at least, who were 
 passing. The door was hurst open, and in rushed Bill 
 Sturdy and Charlie Codman, who had just returned to 
 Boston, and were passing on their way up from the wharf 
 at which the vessel was lying. 
 
 "Mr. Eandall !" exclaimed Charlie, in surprised recog- 
 nition. 
 
 Randall strove to escape through the opened door, but 
 Sturdy, seizing him in his powerful grasp, cried, "'Not so 
 fast, my hearty! You've been up to some mischief, and 
 if I don't see justice clone you, may I never see salt-water 
 
CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 CHARLIE COilES INTO HIS FORTUNE. 
 
 Probably there were no two persons then living whom 
 Randall at that moment cared less about seeing than Bill 
 Sturdy and Charlie. Though astonished beyond expres- 
 sion to see them there, his position was too critical to al- 
 low him to waste time in giving expression to his Bur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Let me go, you scoundrel !" he exclaimed, making a 
 desperate effort to elude Bill's grasp. 
 
 He might as well have striven to tear himself from the 
 grasp of a lion. 
 
 "Not so fast, Mr. Randall," said Bill Sturdy. 
 
 "You mutinous scoundrel !" hissed the mate. 
 
 "You forget," said the captor coolly, "that we are not 
 now on the quarter-deck. Here I am your equal, Mr. Ran- 
 dall, and, perhaps, you may find me a little more." 
 
 "Let me go, if you know what is best for yourself," 
 ejaculated Randall. 
 
 "If you know what is best for yourself," said Bill com- 
 posedly, "I would acivise you to be quiet." 
 
 "And now," he continued, tightening his grasp a lit- 
 227 
 
228 Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 
 
 tie, "just let me know what mischief you have been up 
 to?" 
 
 "I am not responsible to you," said Randall. 
 
 "Responsible or not, you must give an account of your- 
 self." 
 
 "If you will let me go, I will make it worth your 
 while." 
 
 "Do you think I am mean enough to accept a bribe?" 
 exclaimed Sturdy, with honest indignation. "Let me 
 know what you have been doing." 
 
 "This old man !" said Randall, curbing his pride, "fool- 
 ishly thought I meant to rob him, and shrieked for as- 
 sistance. 
 
 "Is that all !" asked Bill, keenly glancing at the box 
 of coins and bank-notes. "Things look as if you were go- 
 ing to rob him in reality." 
 
 "I am not in the habit of thieving," said Randall. 
 
 At this moment the miser began to show signs of re- 
 turning consciousness. 
 
 "Go and get some water, Charlie," said Bill. "The 
 old man looks as if he might come to with a little help." 
 
 There was a pail half-full of water standing near-by. 
 Charlie sprinkled Peter's face, and a moment after he 
 gasped and opened his e} r es. He cast a frightened glance 
 from face to face till his eyes rested on Randall, when 
 he shuddered, and cried feebly. 
 
 "Take him away, take him away ! He will rob me." 
 
Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 229 
 
 "Not while I am here to prevent him/' returned Bill, 
 in a tone of assurance. 
 
 "You are friends, then?" said the miser anxiously. 
 
 "Of course we are. Did this man attempt to rob you ?" 
 
 "Take care not to make any false accusations, old 
 man," said Eandall menacingly. 
 
 "Speak the truth without fear," said Bill Sturdy; "I'll 
 bear you out in it. He can't do you any harm." 
 
 "He demanded a thousand dollars from me," said the 
 old man, "and when I would not give it to him he was 
 going to help himself." 
 
 "What do you say to that, Mr. Eandall?" asked Sturdy. 
 
 "I say this," said the mate, turning a malignant glance 
 upon the miser, "that it was a regular bargain — a matter 
 of business. This man owed me the money — he knows 
 best what for, and refused to pay it." 
 
 "I did not," said Peter hastily, "he had already been 
 paid in full." 
 
 "Take care, Peter, or I may tell what it was for." 
 
 "I defy you," said the miser in a quavering tone of de- 
 fiance. "You are a bad man." 
 
 "Perhaps you don't know who this boy is?" said Ean- 
 dall. 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Peter doubtfully. 
 
 "He is one who has reason to consider you his enemy," 
 said Eandall, "even more than myself." 
 
 At his unexpected statement Bill Sturdy and Charlie 
 nt each other in surprise. 
 
230 Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 
 
 "Do you know this old man, then, Charlie?" asked 
 Sturdy. 
 
 "Yes; he is Mr. Hanson, of whom my mother used to 
 hire a room " 
 
 "The landlord ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And what harm has he ever done to you?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Charlie, shaking his head, "un- 
 less," and an anxious look came over his face, "he has 
 distressed my mother for rent since I have been gone." 
 
 "Is that so?" demanded the sailor sternly. 
 
 "No, no !" said Peter Manson hastily. "She left my 
 tenement a good many months ago." 
 
 "And where is she now?" asked Charlie eagerly, for, 
 having just landed, he knew nothing of his mother's 
 whereabouts. 
 
 "Then you have not seen her ?" asked Randall, with the 
 sudden thought that he might make better terms for 
 himself by selling his knowledge on the subject. 
 
 "No," said Charlie. "Is she well? Tell me, I entreat 
 you, if you know." 
 
 "I do know," said Eandall composedly, "both where she 
 is and how she has fared." 
 
 "Tell me quick." 
 
 "That depends upon circumstances. While I am held 
 in custody I have little inducement to do you a favor/' 
 
 "Sturdy will release you, won't you, Sturdy? Only tell 
 me where my mother is, that I may go to her at once." 
 
Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 831 
 
 ■Why,"' said Bill cautiously, "I don't know exactly. He 
 may be trying a game, and giving us information that 
 won't be worth anything." 
 
 "You can keep me here till you have sent to ascer- 
 tain if I have told you the truth." 
 
 "No, no," said Peter Manson, terrified at the pros- 
 pect, "don't let him stay here. He would rob me." 
 
 "Rob you," sneered Randall ; "it looks well in you whose 
 money has been dishonestly gained, to charge me with 
 theft." 
 
 "He — you won't mind what he says, gentleman," said 
 Peter Manson, trembling. "He only gays it to spite me." 
 
 "To spit you ! Yes, you old hunk, I will spite you, 
 and that with a vengeance ! Hark you, Sturdy, I have 
 kept this old man's secret long enough, and, though I hate 
 you, and that boy there, I believe I hate him worse. If 
 I will reveal to this boy a secret which will insure to him 
 a property of from twenty to thirty thousand dollars, will 
 you agree to let me go, and give me a thousand dollars?" 
 
 ''Can you do it?" demanded Sturdy, in surprise. 
 
 "I can." 
 
 "Well, it ain't for me to say, but if I were Charlie here 
 I would close with your terms." 
 
 "Don't you believe him," said Peter, terrified. "He is 
 only making a fool of you. He can't do what he says." 
 
 Charlie was not a little astonished at the turn affai-s 
 had taken. 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder," said Bill, "if there might be 
 
232 Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 
 
 something in this, as long as the old man seems so afraid 
 the secret will be let out." 
 
 ''You will find that I have told you the truth/' said 
 Eandall ; "tell me quickly, yes or no. If you decline, you 
 will lose more than I shall." 
 
 "Then," said Charlie, "I will accept your terms so far 
 as I am concerned." 
 
 "And I'll bear witness to it," said Bill, "if you will 
 carry out your part of the agreement." 
 
 "That I will do to your satisfaction. The first thing to 
 be explained is, that in carrying this boy to sea I was 
 only acting as the agent of another." 
 
 "And that other?" 
 
 "Was Peter Manson — the man you see before you." 
 
 "It is false," said the miser, turning ghastly pale. 
 
 "Moreover," said Eandall, "I was well paid for the 
 service. I received a thousand dollars." 
 
 "Oh, oh !" cried the old man, swaying backward and 
 forward — "a thousand dollars, and I so poor." 
 
 "You see he admits it," said Eandall. 
 
 "And what did he want Charlie carried away for?" 
 
 "Eeason enough for that. He feared the boy might 
 learn that it was his wealth which he has been hoarding 
 up." 
 
 "Mine!" exclaimed Charlie, in unbounded surprise. 
 
 "Did you never hear your mother speak of a certain 
 Peter Thornton, who by purloining and making off with 
 twenty thousand dollars caused your grandfather to fail ?" 
 
Charlie Comes Into His Fortune 233 
 
 "Yes, often." 
 
 "That wan is Peter Thornton!" said Eandall, pointing 
 with his finger to the miser. 
 
 The latter half-rose from his seat, and then, as if he 
 had received a mortal wound, sank to the floor. 
 
 "You require no other confirmation of my words," said 
 the mate. 
 
 "Why, my lad, you will he a rich man," said Bill Sturdy, 
 his face beaming with satisfaction. 
 
 "How glad mother will be !" exclaimed Charlie. "Where 
 is she, Mr. Eandall ? I want so much to tee her."' 
 
 Tiie mate gave Charlie briefly the information he re- 
 quired, and added: 
 
 "You will probably need my assistance to establish your 
 claim to the property of which yonder old man has so 
 long deprived you. I shall hold myself at your service, 
 trusting to your honor to pay me the thousand dollars 
 agreed upon." 
 
 "You shall not trust in vain, Mr. Eandall," said Charlie 
 promptly. "Place me in possession of what is rightfully 
 mine, and you shall have no reason to complain." 
 
 "Very well, I shall stop at the Tremont House for the 
 present. There you or your lawyer will find me. I ad- 
 vise you to employ legal assistance." 
 
 "I will do so, and thank you for the suggestion. As 
 soon as I have seen my mother I shall proceed to busi- 
 
234 Charlie Comes Into His Fortune. 
 
 Eandall withdrew, but was quickly followed by Cha.me 
 and his friend. 
 
 ''Where are you going, my lad ?" asked the sailor. 
 
 "You needn't ask, Bill — to see my best friend, my 
 mother. It is for her sake that I welcome this fortune. 
 She shall never want any more while I have money. We 
 will have a nice little home, where you shall be welcome, 
 Bill, always." 
 
 Bill pressed the hand of the boy in his own rough palm, 
 and there was a suspicious moisture about his eyes, but 
 he said nothing. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 REUNITED AT LAST. 
 
 Mrs. Codman was sitting in a little room opening out 
 from the breakfast-room, which had been appropriated 
 as a sort of study by Bert and herself. 
 
 Topsy, the kitten, who had not yet attained the sobriety 
 and demureness of old cathood, was running round after 
 her tail. 
 
 "Oh, dear," sighed Bert, who was puzzling over a les- 
 son in geography, "I can't study any to-day." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mrs. Codman. 
 
 "Oh, I feel so restless." 
 
 "That isn't very unusual, is it?" asked her governess, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "I feel more so than usual. Something is going to hap- 
 pen, I know." 
 
 "Something does happen every day." 
 
 "Well, you know what I mean; something out of the 
 way. I shouldn't wonder if Charlie got home today." 
 
 "Heaven grant he may !" exclaimed his mother, fer- 
 vently. 
 
 By a strange coincidence — and coincidences do some- 
 times happen in real life, though not quite so often, per- 
 235 
 
236 Reunited at Last. 
 
 haps, as in stories — Mrs. Codman had hardly given utter- 
 ance to her wish when the bell rang. 
 
 Bert jumped from her seat. 
 
 "It is he, I know it is !" she exclaimed. "Do let me go 
 to the door." 
 
 "You are very fanciful to-day, Bert," said Mrs. Codman. 
 But she did not forbid her going. Bert's earnestness had 
 given birth to a wild hope on her part, that it might be 
 as she had fancied. 
 
 Before the servant had a chance to reach the door, Bert 
 had opened it. 
 
 Bill Sturdy and Charlie stood on the steps, Charlie 
 looking handsome and manly, with an eager look on his 
 bright face. Sturdy, it must be owned, looked and felt a 
 little awkward, not being accustomed to call as a visitor at 
 houses as elegant as Mr. Bowman's. 
 
 "Oh ! this is Charlie, isn't it ?" exclaimed Bert, with 
 childish delight, instinctively putting out her hand. 
 
 "What, do you know me?" asked Charlie, pleased with 
 this cordial reception, but astonished at being recognized. 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Is my mother here?" 
 
 "Yes; I will go and call her. But won't you come 
 in?" 
 
 "I would rather you would call her," said Charlie bash- 
 fully. 
 
 Bert danced back into the little study. 
 
Reunited at Last. 237 
 
 "I was right, Mrs. Codman," said she triumphantly. 
 "It is Charlie." 
 
 "Has he come?" asked the mother, letting fall, as she 
 rose, the astonished kitten, which had clambered into her 
 lap. "Oh, where is he?" 
 
 "At the door." 
 
 Mrs. Codman waited for no more, but hastened to the 
 door, and, in a moment, the mother was face to face with 
 her lost boy. Of the delight of that meeting; of the num- 
 berless questions which each had to ask, with what fond 
 pride the mother noted the increased manliness of Charlie, 
 I cannot speak in detail. Both hearts were full to over- 
 flowing with love and gratitude. 
 
 Meanwhile Bert was endeavoring, in her way, to en- 
 tertain Bill Sturdy, who, though no man was braver or 
 more self-reliant among his comrades, felt abashed in the 
 presence of the child, whom he looked upon as made of 
 finer clay than himself. And, indeed, the beauty and 
 sprightliness of the girl made her look like a charming 
 picture, and even Charlie's eyes could not help straying 
 to her, from time to time, while he was talking with his 
 mother. 
 
 Bill was perched upon an elegant chair, scarcely daring 
 to rest his whole weight upon it, for fear it might give 
 way under him, swinging his hat awkwardly in his hand. 
 
 "You are Bill Sturdy, are you not?" said Bert, deter- 
 mined to become better acquainted. 
 
 "How do you know that is my name?" asked Bill, half- 
 
238 Reunited at Last. 
 
 fancying she must have learned it in some supernatural 
 way. 
 
 "Oh, Charlie wrote about you in his letter." 
 
 "Did his mother get a letter from him, then?" 
 
 "Yes; it was from some place with a hard name. I 
 never can remember those geography names/" 
 
 "Was it VJo Janeiro ?" 
 
 "Yes: that was it. What an awful time he must have 
 had ! Do you like going to sea ?" 
 
 "Yes, miss; I feel more at home on the sea than on 
 the land." 
 
 "You do ! Well, that's funny. I know I should be sea- 
 sick, and that must be horrid." 
 
 "Well, it doesn't feel very pleasant," said Bill, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Sturd} r , did you ever see a whale?" 
 
 "Yes, miss, plenty of them." 
 
 "I suppose you never came near being swallowed by 
 one — like Jonah, you know?" 
 
 "No, miss; I don't think I should like that." 
 
 'What lots of adventures you must have had! You 
 must stay to dinner, and afterward you can tell me of 
 some." 
 
 "I don't think I could, thank you, miss, all the same/' 
 said Bill, alarmed at the suggestion. "Not but I'd be 
 glad to spin you a yarn some time." 
 
 Just then Charlie bethought himself of his companion. 
 
 "Mother," said he, "you must let me introduce to you 
 
Reunited at Last. 239 
 
 my good friend, Bill Sturdy. You don't know how kind 
 he has been to me." 
 
 "I am quite ready to believe it," said Mrs. Codman, 
 holding out her hand kindly. 
 
 Bill took it shyly in his. 
 
 "I thank you most heartily for all you have done for 
 my dear boy," said she. 
 
 "Anybody that wasn't a brute would have done as much, 
 ma'am." 
 
 "Then I am afraid there are a great many brutes in the 
 wcrld." 
 
 Charlie stopped to dinner, but Bill could not be pre- 
 vailed upon to do so. "You see, my boy," he explained to 
 Charlie, "it don't come nat'ral; I shouldn't know how to 
 behave. So I'll just go back to my boarding-house, and 
 you'll find me there after dinner." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 BEACHING PORT. 
 
 Will the reader imagine a year to have passed? 
 
 During this time several things have happened. 
 
 In the first place, Mr. Bowman has invited Charlie to 
 become a member of his family. 
 
 In the second place, charmed by the beauty and grace, 
 as well as the more valuable qualities of Mrs. Codman, 
 with whom he has had a good chance of becoming ac- 
 quainted during her residence in his family, he has in- 
 vited her to become his wife. Mrs. Codman was taken 
 by surprise, but found this proposition not altogether un- 
 welcome. She had become attached to Bert, who added 
 her persuasions to those of her father, and at length her 
 governess promised to assume to her a nearer relation. 
 
 Through the testimony of Randall, the identity of Peter 
 Manson with Peter Thornton was fully established, and 
 the law decided that the miser's wealth must go to 
 Charlie and his mother. It was found to exceed the es- 
 timate which had been made of it, verging close upon 
 forty thousand dollars. Including interest for twenty 
 years, all this, and more, belonged to those who had so 
 long been defrauded of it. 
 
 240 
 
Reaching Port. 241 
 
 Mrs. Codman could not help pitying the miserable and 
 disconsolate old man, pinched with privation, which had 
 enfeebled him, and made him old before his time. She 
 continued to allow him the use of the old building which 
 he had occupied so many years, and allowed him a certain 
 sum payable on the first of every month to provide for his 
 wants. 
 
 The sudden loss of the money which he had been hoard- 
 ing up so long did not kill Peter Manson, but it affected 
 his intellect. The habit of avarice never left him. He 
 saved up nine- tenths of his allowance, and starved himself 
 on the remainder. Attempts were made to remedy this 
 by bringing him supplies of fuel and provisions, but these 
 he economized as before. One day, when Charlie looked 
 in to see how he was getting along, he beheld a sight 
 which made him start back in affright. 
 
 The old man lay stretched out upon the floor with a 
 few coins firmly clutched in his grasp. He had received 
 a sudden summons while engaged in counting over the 
 little money he had accumulated from his allowance. 
 
 So ended the wasted life of Peter Manson, the miser. 
 
 From him we turn to others who have figured in these 
 pages. 
 
 Pandall received the thousand dollars which had been 
 promised as the reward of his disclosure. It appeared as 
 if prosperity, rather than retribution, was to attend him. 
 He succeeded in obtaining the command of a fine ship, 
 with an excellent salary, and sailed with fair prospects. 
 
242 Reaching Port. 
 
 But his tyrannical habits had not deserted him. His un- 
 justifiable abuse aroused the deadly anger of one of the 
 erewf a man of excitable temper, who, before he could 
 be withheld, plunged a knife into his heart one day, just 
 after punishment, killing him instantly. 
 
 As for Captain Brace, he, too, demands a word. Brief 
 mention will suffice. In a fit of ungovernable rage he 
 burst a blood-vessel and he, too, died instantly, without a 
 moment's preparation, in which to repent of the many 
 wrongs he had committed. 
 
 From the sad fate of these miserable men we turn gladly 
 to brighter scenes. 
 
 Mrs. Codman, now Mrs. Bowman, has had no cause to 
 regret her second choice. Her husband commands her 
 respect and esteem, and makes her very happy. Charlie 
 is now at an excellent school. After he has completed a 
 liberal course of instruction, he will enter the office of 
 !his stepfather, where, as we cannot doubt, an honorable 
 and useful career awaits him. 
 
 As for Bill Sturdy — honest, brave, stout-hearted Bill 
 Sturdy — he could not be persuaded to abandon the sea, 
 but now sails as captain of a vessel belonging to Mr. Bow- 
 man. He is unboundedly popular with his crew, whom 
 he treats as comrades in whose welfare he is interested. 
 Whenever he is in port, Captain Sturdy dines once with 
 'Mr. Bowman. He feels more at his ease now than when 
 he was only a forecastle hand, but he will always be mod- 
 est and unassuming. He is a prime favorite with Bert, 
 
Reaching Port. 343 
 
 and always brings her home something when he returns 
 from foreign parts. 
 
 It is not ours to read the future; but I should not be 
 surprised, when Charlie grows to manhood, if we should 
 find Bert's early choice of him as her husband prophetic. 
 
 So we bid farewell to Charlie Codman. His trials and 
 struggles have come early in life, but now his bark has 
 drifted into smoother waters. The sky above him ia 
 cloudless. His character has been strengthened by his 
 combat with adversity. Let us hope that his manhood 
 may redeem the promise of his youth, and be graced by aH 
 the noblest attributes of humanity. 
 
 SHP END. 
 
WHAT HE LEFT. 
 
 BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 
 
 " I know not of the truth, d'ye see, 
 I tell the tale as 'twas told "to me." 
 
 MARK BROWNSON was dying, slowly, but surely, s® 
 the physician told his wife, and advised that if he 
 had any business to settle, it should not be delayed. 
 
 " He is sinking, and even now I see his mind is, at 
 times, a little clouded. However, I suppose there is noth- 
 ing of importance that he should consider," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 " He has made no will," said Mrs. Brownson. 
 
 " Is that necessary ? I did not know — " 
 
 " I think it is very necessary, doctor, for his children's 
 welfare. Not that I think it at all likely there can be any 
 contest about what Mr. Brownson has. Yet to provide 
 against any future troubles, it would be prudent, I think." 
 
 The good doctor assented, but looked much surprised. 
 
 And well he might. No one imagined old Mark Brown- 
 eon had anything to will. But he was a very eccentric 
 man ; and the economical style of his establishment was 
 likely one of his notions. 
 
 "Are you suffering much pain now, Mark ?" asked Mrs. 
 Brownson, a few moments after, when she was seated at 
 her brand's bedside. <223> 
 
224 WHAT HE LEFT. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; give me my composing draught — the opium 
 —anything to relieve me," answered the suffering man. 
 
 His wife obeyed, and after his groaning and restlessness 
 had ceased, she said : 
 
 " I want to talk to you, Mark. Can you listen now ? " 
 
 A nodded assent gave her permission to proceed. 
 
 " Do you not think it would be as well for you to express 
 your wishes with regard to the disposition of your stocks 
 and other effects ? You may outlive me, Mark, and this 
 thing not be necessary, still I think it better to attend 
 to such business," said Mrs. Brownson, closely watching 
 the effect her words might have on the sufferer. 
 
 She had feared possibly they might shock him severely, 
 but depending much on the favorable influence of the 
 opiate, she had ventured on the business she considered so 
 important. 
 
 A look of satisfaction replaced the anxiety of a moment 
 before. She had no longer cause for fear. Calmly Mark 
 Brownson heard her suggestion, and said, in a feeble 
 voice: 
 
 " What have I to will ? " 
 
 " Why, dear, you forget. Your long sickness and the 
 opium — no wonder ! There is the stock in the ' Liverpool 
 Steamship Company,' and that in the 'Australian Mining 
 C iQjpany.' Surely you have not forgotten your large 
 amount in our State bonds? And how much you have 
 in ' Fire and Life Insurance stock ' I cannot just remember 
 now. However, by reference to the papers I can tell." 
 
 Again she watched her husband's face. It only ex- 
 pressed a rather puzzled brain, as though he was trying to 
 remember. 
 
 " You have such papers? I cannot think," he said. 
 
 " Don't try to, dear. It is not necessary. I will just 
 look over your papers, and make a statement; and wheD 
 
tf-FIAT HE LEFT. 225 
 
 I read them over to you in presence of the lawyer, you can 
 assent. You wish an equal division between myself and 
 our daughters, I know. Is it not so ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes. You are always right," murmured her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " There, dear, go to sleep now. Some time when you 
 are easy we will fix this, ; ' said Mrs. Brownson. 
 
 And the next day, at an hour when she knew her hus- 
 band's mind was best prepared, a lawyer was summoned, 
 and a statement of stocks and bonds to the amount of two 
 hundred thousand dollars placed before him, and Mark 
 Brownson expressed his wish to have an equal division 
 of his effects made between his wife and two children. 
 
 The will was made, and duly signed and witnessed by 
 two of the nearest neighbors and the only domestic, a 
 worthy woman who had been with Mrs. Brownson for 
 many years. 
 
 A few days more, and Mark Brownson had passed from 
 earth. 
 
 Many wondered at the very quiet and unostentatious 
 style of the last services for him ; but the widow had said : 
 
 " In death it shall be with him as he always preferred 
 in life." 
 
 And then when all was over, and the summer months 
 were coming, Mrs. Brownson sold out the modest little es- 
 tablishment, and, with her daughters and their faithful 
 servant, went to board by the seashore, at a very fashion- 
 able resort; but, of course, not to mingle in the gay 
 festivities of the season, only to recruit her health, which 
 was very much impared by long attention to her suffering 
 husband, and to have the girls escape the heat and dust 
 of the city. 
 
 A. few days after they were settled in their new abode, 
 Mrs. Brownson said to her attendant: 
 
226 WHAT HE LEFT. 
 
 " Margaret, you were very much surprised by hearing 
 Mr. Brownson's will." 
 
 "Oh, yes, ma'am, indeed I was." 
 
 "Well, Margaret, I do not wish you to mention any- 
 thing about it down here. Mr. Brownson, you know, 
 never let it be known to the world. And so it must be 
 for the present. I do not wish my daughters to be mar- 
 ried for anything but their own good qualities. They are 
 good and beautiful enough to marry well, without having 
 any other inducements for suitors. Now, Margaret, you 
 know just how I feel, and what I mean ? " said the anxious 
 mother. 
 
 " Certainly I do ! And I feel as much concerned about 
 my beautiful young ladies as you do, ma'am. Never fear 
 but I will look out for their interest," answered the worthy 
 woman. 
 
 And to do as she said, to the best of her understanding, 
 Margaret set out for a walk on the beach, with some of 
 the other servants and their escorts, the waiters from the 
 hotel. And before the next noon it was well known what 
 a good chance there was for two young men to win as 
 beautiful wives as ever were seen, to say nothing of the 
 other greater attractions. 
 
 And very soon the sisters, Maud and May, were objecta 
 of universal observation. Yet it was very difficult to get 
 an introduction, the young gentlemen all found ; for the 
 widow kept the beautiful girls very much secluded. 
 
 Numberless were the delicate attentions paid them, in 
 the way of bouquets, books, and so on, sent by Margaret; 
 and several cards to Mrs. Brownson, with the request for 
 an introduction, accompanied by references — among which 
 came those of Vernon Wadsworth and Harry Bennett. 
 
 The first one Mrs. Brownson knew well by repute,!.; ... 
 He was a young physician of very fine promise, and. 
 
WHAT HE LEFT. 227 
 
 Of one of the best families in the State, she considered him 
 worthy of her attention. The other, she had heard since 
 her arrival there, was the possessor of a very fair amount 
 of worldly goods, the life-long accumulation of an old 
 uncle. So, from the many aspirants, Mrs. Brownson 
 d these two to present to her daughters. 
 
 Just at this time, Doctor Alton, Mrs. Brownson's friend 
 and the physician who had attended her husband, arrived 
 at the sea-shore ; and through him, without any more 
 trouble or waiting the mother's pleasure, young Doctor 
 Wadsworth obtained an introduction, and presented his 
 friend, Bennett. 
 
 And although both of these young men did their best to 
 keep back all others by various manoeuvres, many mora 
 became acquainted with the lovely sisters, who soon, 
 much to their own surprise, became decidedly the belles 
 of that resort. 
 
 Carefully Mrs. Brownson had guarded her secret from 
 her girls, fearing, perhaps, it would have a prejudicial 
 effect, changing their sweet, unassuming manner, which 
 was one of their greatest charms ; or, perhaps, for other 
 motives best known to herself. 
 
 Although Doctor Wadsworth and young Bennett very 
 much feared the approach of other suitors, it was quite 
 needless, for the girls were best pleased with the first who 
 had sought them and drawn them forth from their seclu- 
 sion. 
 
 The older one, Maud, a brilliant brunette, received with 
 Undisguised pleasure the devoted attention of Harry Ben- 
 nett; while gentle little May, so fair and timid, always 
 greeted the handsome doctor by ising her 
 
 beautiful face; and then, from lance from 
 
 the e; I 
 
 the glad :i dit that told how welcome his coj 
 
228 WHAT HE LEFT. 
 
 " We must win them now, doctor ; you see how much 
 they are admired and sought here. What will it be whea 
 they are out of their mourning robes and in the gayeties 
 of the city? This is our best chance. What say you ? * 
 asked young Bennett, a fortnight after their introduction. 
 
 " Say ! That the very idea of even losing sight of that 
 gentle, beautiful May for a day, fills my heart with mis- 
 giving and great anxiety. I tell you, I began this affair 
 rather in fun — " 
 
 "Yon mean after funds, perhaps!" interrupted Bennett. 
 
 A Hush suffused Doctor Wadsworth's face for an instant, 
 and he answered : 
 
 " Well, I'll admit that is not at all objectionable ; but 
 really, now that I know May Brownson, I would not be 
 willing to resign her to another man, even if she had not 
 a dollar in the world." 
 
 There was an expression about Harry Bennett's mouth 
 that looked as if his lips wanted to say : " I don't believe 
 you" — only they did not just dare to. Harry Bennett 
 was as much in love as he could be with any one other 
 than himself, still he was not going to leap without look- 
 ing. So, after learning a little more than he had already 
 heard from Margaret, he was called, very urgently, to the 
 city. After an absence of only two days he was back 
 again, and stated to Doctor Wadsworth his knowledge of 
 Mark Brownson's possessions. That evening Mrs. Brown- 
 son received proposals for both of her daughters. 
 
 She must consider the matter, and consult with her 
 friends, the prudent mother thought and said to the 
 anxious suitors. 
 
 This made them each more determined to secure the 
 prize. 
 
 " Dear May, plead with your mother for me ! " said the 
 ardent young doctor. 
 
WHAT HE LEFT. 229 
 
 "Mamma will consent after a while," answered the 
 gentle girl. 
 
 "After a while! Why not now? I am going away 
 next month for a long time. I cannot leave you, May. 
 Would you wish me to ? " 
 
 May turned pale at the thought, and raised her pleading 
 eyes to her mother. 
 
 It was enough. Doctor Wadsworth had used the surest 
 weapon. A separation was dreaded by both mother and 
 daughter, and each for different reasons. And then it 
 was an easier thing for Harry Bennett to obtain the 
 mother's consent, to claim his love at the same time. 
 
 Mrs. Brownson, after giving her consent, requested a 
 private interview with her prospective sons-in-law. The 
 girls were sent from the room, and then Mrs. Brovvnson 
 eaid: 
 
 " I have thought possibly, gentlemen, that a very foolish 
 rumor may have reached your ears respecting the wealth 
 possessed by my daughters, and that — excuse me, but I 
 must allude to it — this may in a measure have influenced 
 your selecting them from the many young girls here — " 
 
 " Oh, madam ! " both men exclaimed simultaneously. 
 
 " If I tell you they have nothing but their pure hearts 
 and loving natures, will you not be disappointed ? " 
 
 " No, madam. How can you judge me so? " exclaimed 
 both. 
 
 " I am glad it is so. I would not have you marry my 
 daughters under false impressions." 
 
 " When May is mine, I shall think I have secured the 
 most valuable fortune any man can have," said the doctor, 
 with a really honest look in his eyes. 
 
 " When Maud is mine, I shall know I have secured o ' 
 I would wish," added Harry Bennett, with rat 
 twinkle in his eyes. 
 
230 WHAT HE LEFT. 
 
 And so it was agreed that they should be united there^ 
 «nd after a very private wedding leave for an extensive 
 bridal tour. 
 
 " The old fox ! Is she not a sly oik ? She thought to 
 throw us off, I do beHeve. But / aoi as bright as she," 
 said Harry Bennett, after the interview. 
 
 " Really, Bennett, that is not a very respectful way of 
 speaking of the mother of your promised wife," replied 
 Doctor Wadsworth. 
 
 '• Well, no ; you are right. But just to think of her 
 talking so to us ! " answered Harry, with an air of injured 
 pride. 
 
 The ceremony was over. After an acquaintance of less 
 than six weeks, Doctor Wadsworth and Harry Bennett 
 had won their wives. 
 
 And while the brides had retired to change their dress 
 for the travelling-suit, the happy young husbands requested 
 to speak a moment with their mother-in-law. 
 
 " Indeed you must speak; I will not," said Doctor Wads- 
 worth, in a low tone, as he closed the door, and with Ben- 
 nett approached Mrs. Brownson. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, Harry Bennett said : 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Brownson, that we have proved our sin- 
 cerity and real love for your daughters, there is no reason 
 for any longer concealment. ' ; 
 
 "About what, sir?" asked his mother-in-law. 
 
 '- Come, my dear madam ; this is entirely useless. Yon 
 have tried and proved us. Now to business." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Bennett, I am at a loss to understand you 1 
 Will you please to be explicit ? " 
 
 " Well, madam, then I must tell you that I am perfectly 
 well aware that my wife is entitled to the one-third of two 
 hundred thousand dollars left by her father. Now, my 
 dear madam, we are going on a very long and expensive 
 
WHAT HE LEFT. 231 
 
 trip, and may need more than I have in ready money. 
 Now, that is just the whole truth," said Harry, who had 
 gotten over his slight embarrassment, and then spoke in a 
 very business sort of maimer. 
 
 Not so Doctor Wads worth ; he seemed very much mor- 
 tified, and looked as if he wished he was away from that 
 scene. 
 
 " Mr. Bennett, I spoke to you about this report, and told 
 you how false it was, did I not ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, madam ; but you see — " 
 
 " You still believe this, even when I again tell you that 
 neither I nor my daughters have a dollar in the worlcj 
 beyond the small amount I have now from the iak oi ray- 
 household effects? I assure you, sir, I speak the truth," 
 said Mrs. Brownson, in a tone and manner that would I 
 have enforced belief. 
 
 But Harry Bennett said, triumphantly: 
 
 " Madam, I have seen Mr. Brownson 's will." 
 
 "Thai will, my dear sir, is not worth the paper it is writ* 
 ten on. Mr. Brownson was out of his head, and imagined 
 he was possessed of that sum in bonds and stock. If 
 you can find any such possession, no one would wel- 
 come it more gladly than I. You can readily prove th« 
 truth." 
 
 Harry Bennett gazed bewildered from his mother-in-law 
 to Doctor Wads worth, and then said in a low voice, as if 
 to himself: 
 
 " Caught and caged." 
 
 "And I am glad of it," exclaimed the doctor, who wa» 
 truly glad of anything to end that very embarrassing inter- 
 view. " Come, Bennett, we must arrange our trip to suit 
 the extent of our purse, and be happy with the prizes w& 
 
 ave won." 
 
 " Well, madam, I must say that the old gentleman's will 
 
232 a AT HE LEFT. 
 
 was worth something For 111 own up now, it nelped 
 ..^ery much to st ure you one very nice young man for 
 your son. I'll speak a word for him, although he has 
 been i a -eery Brown son.' I'm ready now, Wads- 
 
 we won't shorten our trip one mile; for Fve got 
 a fortune, thanks to my old uncle. Yes, and another, 111 
 have to admit (there she is now), thanks to her father's 
 will." 
 
 Mrs. Brownson could not resist a smile. She had no 
 misgivings about her children's future happiness. If they 
 had not already secured their husbands' affection, she 
 knew they would soon; lor who could help loving such 
 
 iov 
 
Mger Series for Boys 
 
 The public and popular verdict 
 for many years has approved of 
 the Alger series of books as among 
 the most wholesome of all stories 
 for boys. To meet the continued 
 demand for these books in the 
 || most attractive style of the bind- 
 laliSii er ' s ***« we nave dado this special 
 jflfl^H^^BS edition in ornamental designs in 
 ■HBi^^HBsHi three colors, stamped on side and 
 J aBHBBBB back. Clear, large type is used on 
 ^HHH^^^ superior super-finish paper. The 
 &*** u ' elaborate designs are stamped up- 
 
 on binder's English linen cloth, with side and back titles 
 in large letterings, Each book in pristed wrapper- 
 
 Adrift in New York 
 
 Andy Gordon 
 
 Andy Grant's Pluck 
 
 Bob Burton 
 
 Bo and to Rise 
 
 Brave and Bold 
 
 Cash Boy, The 
 
 Chester Rand 
 
 Cousin's Conspiracy? & 
 
 Do and Dare 
 
 Driven From Home 
 
 Erie Train Boy 
 
 Fsciaa the World 
 
 Five Hundred Dollar* 
 
 Frank's Campairm 
 
 Grit; The Yo-ong Bo&tniafc 
 
 Herbert Carter's Legacy 
 
 Hee tor's Iclisrjtaiice 
 
 Helping Hsnself 
 
 In a New Wocid 
 
 Jack's Ward 
 
 Jed, the Poo* House Boy 
 
 Joe's Luck 
 
 JuhVus,tlxe Street Boy 
 
 Luke Watton 
 
 Mafcfci* Hi3 Way 
 Mark Mason's Victory 
 Only as Irish Boy 
 Paul, the Peddler 
 PhiU the Fiddler 
 Ralph Raymond's Hair 
 Risen from the Ranks 
 Sam's CfaeaBce 
 Shifting for IfirnseK 
 Sink or Swim 
 Slow and Sure 
 Store Boy, The 
 Strive and Succeed 
 Strong and Steady 
 Struggling Upward 
 Tin Box, The 
 Tom, the Boot-Black 
 Tony, the Tramp 
 Try and Trust 
 Wait and Hope 
 W. Sherwood* s Probation 
 Young Acrobat 
 Young Adventurer, The 
 Young Outlaw 
 Young Salesman 
 
 For Salo fcy aS Snob and Newsdealers, or wtti 
 sn tits V. 3 - Canada or Mexico, postpaid, 
 
 iStt e*cfe, in currency, -noney order or stamps. 
 
 be seat to any address 
 on receipt of p 
 
 price 
 
 M. A. Donahue & Co. w - 4 M»5*r $ '" 
 
Famous Books by Famous Authors 
 
 DOWN THE 
 SLOPE 
 
 By JAMES OTIS 
 
 The hero of this story is a young boy 
 who, in order to assist his mother, works 
 as a "breaker" in a coal mine. Ihe book 
 tells how coal miners work; their socias 
 condition] their hardships and pri- 
 vations. 
 
 TEDDY 
 
 By JAMES OTIS 
 
 A captivating story of how Teddy, a village boy, helped to raise the 
 (Mortgage on his mother's home,' and the means he took for doing so. The 
 obstacles his craDbed uncle placed in his way; his connection with the 
 fakirs a* the CouDiy Fair; his successful Cane and Knife Board venture) 
 Biis queer lot of friends and how they aided him; and how he finally ouU 
 Sitted his enemies. 
 
 TELEGRAPH TOM'S VENTURE 
 
 By JAMES OTIS 
 
 A highly entertaining story of the adventures of a boy who assisted a 
 tffnited States officer of the law in working up a famous case. The nar. 
 BStive is both interesting and instructive in that it shows what a bright 
 &oy can accomplish when' thrown upon his own resources, and also portrays 
 (ike manner in which such officers do their work. 
 
 MESSENGER NO. 48 
 
 By JAMES OTIS 
 
 Relates the experience of a faithful messenger boy in a large city, who in 
 answering a call was the means of ferreting out a band of criminals who 
 for years had baffled the police and detectives, The story tells of the many 
 dangers and hardships these boys have to undergo, the important services 
 £he> often render by their clever movements; and how by his fidelity to 
 duty, Messenger Boy. No. 48 rose to a most important position of trust and 
 Jjonor. It teaches boys that self -reliance, pluck and the faithful performance 
 af duties are the real secrets of success. 241 pages. 
 
 These books are bound in cloth: have attractive cover designs stamped 
 fin two colors, with titles stamped in gold, illustrated; 12mos. 
 
 Wot sale by all Book and Newsdealers, or will be sent to any address in the 
 
 U. S., Canada or Mexico, postpaid, on receipt of price, $1.00 
 
 each, in currency, money order or stamps. 
 
 fci. A* Donohue & Co « Mi yis3SS street