Jack Harvey's Adventures; or, The Rival Campers Among the Oyster Pirates

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

  CHAPTER II THE CABIN OF THE SCHOONER

  Jack Harvey stood at the foot of the companionway, for a moment, lookinginto the cabin, before he entered. There was a lamp burning dimly,fastened into a socket in a support that extended from the centre-boardbox to the ceiling. Its light sufficed for Harvey to see but vaguely atfirst, owing to a cloud of tobacco smoke that filled the stuffy cabin. Itwas warm there, however, for the cook-stove in the galley threw itscomforting heat beyond the limits of that small place; and the warmth wasdecidedly agreeable to one coming in from the evening air.

  Harvey entered and stood, waiting for his new acquaintance to join him.He could see objects soon more plainly. He perceived that the person whowas emitting the volumes of smoke was a short, thick-set man, who wasoccupying one of the two wooden chairs that the cabin afforded. He washuddled all up in a heap, with his head submerged below the collar of histhick overcoat, out of which rim the smoke ascended, as though from thecrater of a tiny volcano.

  He seemed to have fallen almost into sleep there; and it appeared toHarvey that he must be very uncomfortable, bundled in his great coat,with the cabin hot and smoky. Yet he was awake sufficiently to draw atthe stem of his pipe, and to glance up at Harvey as he entered. He evenmade a jerky motion over one shoulder, with his thumb, indicating a bunkthat extended along the side of the cabin, and mumbled something thatsounded like, "Have a seat."

  Harvey, however, turned toward the companion-way, as young Mr. Jenkinsentered and rejoined him.

  "Now this is what I call comfortable for a vessel," said Mr. Jenkins,briskly; "not much like some of those old bug-eyes, where they stuff youinto a hole and call it a cabin. We'll have a bit more air in here, andthen we'll sit down and have a bite with Joe. He wants us to. You're inno great hurry, are you?"

  "No, I'm not," responded Harvey, congratulating himself that here was achance at last to see life aboard a real fisherman at close quarters.

  Mr. Jenkins opened one of the ports on either side, which cleared thecabin in a measure of the dense cloud of smoke, and made it moreagreeable. Then, stooping, he lifted the leaf of a folding table, thatwas hinged to the side of the centre-board box, turned the bracket thatsupported it into place, and motioned to Harvey to draw up a chair. Heseated himself on a wooden box, close by.

  "Joe's got some steamed oysters ready, and a pot of coffee and some cornbread," he said, cheerfully. "You don't mind taking pot luck for once, doyou, just to see how they live aboard? Here he is now. Come on, Joe,we're hungry. Joe, this is Mr.--let's see, did I get your name?"

  Harvey informed him, wondering at the easy familiarity of his newacquaintance aboard the vessel, but somewhat amused over it, and hiscuriosity aroused. The boy nodded to Harvey. Stepping into the galley, hereturned directly, bringing two bowls filled with steamed oysters, whichhe set before Harvey and Mr. Jenkins. The corn bread and coffee arrivedduly, and young Mr. Jenkins urged Harvey to fall to and eat heartily.

  Harvey needed no urging. His long walk about the city had made himravenously hungry. Moreover, although the coffee was not much like whathe had been accustomed to, the oysters and corn bread were certainlydelicious. Harvey and Mr. Jenkins ate by themselves, waited on by theyouth, who declared he would eat later, with "him," pointing to thedrowsy smoker, who had not stirred from his original position, and withCaptain Scroop, if the latter should return to supper.

  It was in the course of the meal that Harvey, to his surprise, discoveredthat there was still another occupant of the cabin, of whose presence hehad not before been aware. In the forward, farther corner of the cabin,what had appeared to be a tumbled heap of blankets, on one of the bunks,suddenly gave forth a resounding snore; and the heap of blankets stirredslightly.

  "Hello," exclaimed Harvey; "what's that?"

  Mr. Jenkins glanced sharply at the sleeper, sprang up and made a closerinspection, and then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, resumed hisseat.

  "It's one of the mates," he said. "He's had a hard cold for a week; takensomething to sleep it off with, I guess."

  Harvey went on eating. He might not have had so keen a relish for hisfood, however, had he known that the sleeper was not only not a mate, butthat, indeed, he had never been aboard a vessel before in all his life;that he hadn't known when nor how he did come aboard; that he was utterlyoblivious to where he now was; and that he had been seized of anoverpowering drowsiness shortly after taking a single glass of grog withthe same young gentleman who now sat with Jack Harvey in the schooner'scabin. That had taken place at a small saloon just across from the float.

  Perhaps the suggestion was a timely one for Mr. Jenkins; perhaps he didnot need it. At all events, he said guardedly, "Scroop sometimes opensthat bottle for visitors; do you want to warm up a bit against the nightair?"

  He pointed, as he spoke, to a half opened locker, in which some glasswareof a certain kind was visible.

  "No, thanks," replied Harvey, "never."

  "Nor I, either," rejoined Mr. Jenkins, emphatically. "A man's a fool thatdoes, in my opinion. But it's hospitality along here to offer it, so nooffence."

  One might, however, have noted a look of disappointment in hiscountenance; and he seemed to be thinking, hard.

  "Joe's a good sort," he remarked, presently. "I don't know why I shouldtell you, but it's odd how I come to know him. The fact is, when my folkshad money--plenty of it, too--Joe lived in a little house that belongedto our estate, and I used to run away and play with him. What's more, nowI'm grown up, I'm going to run away with him again, eh, Joe?"

  The boy nodded.

  Harvey looked at Mr. Jenkins, inquiringly. The latter leaned nearer toHarvey and assumed a more confidential air.

  "Why, the fact is," he said in a low tone, "you might not think it,perhaps, but I'm a college man--Johns Hopkins--you've heard of that, eh?"

  Harvey recalled the name, though the mere fact that such an institutionexisted was the extent of his information regarding it, and he nodded.

  "Well," continued Mr. Jenkins, "I'm working my way through, and my folksare so proud they don't want it known. So I'm going a trip or two withJoe and Captain Scroop, just as soon as they have a berth for me, becauseit's out of the way, where no one will know me, it's easy work, and thepay is high. Isn't that so, Joe?"

  One might have caught the suggestion of a fleeting desire to grin, on thefeatures of the boy addressed; but he lowered his gaze and nodded.

  "Why, how many more men do you have begging for chances to ship, everyvoyage, than you have need of?" inquired young Mr. Jenkins, lookingsharply at the boy.

  "Dunno," answered Joe, doggedly. "Mebbe five or six; mebbe more."

  "That's it!" exclaimed Mr. Jenkins, "And the wages are twenty-fivedollars a month, and all the good food a fellow can eat, eh?"

  "More'n he can eat, mostly," responded the boy. "They gets too much toeat."

  "And when are you going to find that place for me to go a voyage--andberth aft here with you and the captain and mate, like a gentleman, andget my twenty-five a month at easy work?"

  "We've got it now," said Joe.

  Young Mr. Jenkins sprang from his chair, with an exclamation of delight.He stepped up to the boy and seized him by an arm.

  "Say!" he cried; "you're in earnest now--none of your tricks--do you meanit, really?"

  The boy nodded.

  "We've got two chances," he said.

  Young Mr. Jenkins gave a whistle of amazement.

  "Two chances open on the same voyage!" he exclaimed. "I never knew ofthat before, and just before sailing. How do you account for it--somebodytaken sick?"

  "That's it," said the boy.

  Young Mr. Jenkins walked slowly back to his seat, looked sharply atHarvey from the comers of his eyes, and spoke earnestly.

  "Say, Mr. Harvey," he said, "I'm not sure, but I believe I could get thatchance for you. You played in great luck when I saw you throw thatheaving line to the vessel there, this afternoon. I'll swear
to CaptainScroop that you're all right, and I know you could make good. Do you knowI've taken a sort of liking to you; and I tell you what, you and I'llship for one month and I'll see you through. Why, they're all likebrothers here, the captain and his men. We'll have a gorgeous time, seehow the fishing is done, come back in a month and have twenty-fivedollars apiece to show for it. And then you'll have had a real seaexperience--something to talk about when you get home. It's the chance ofa life-time."

  Taken all by surprise by the offer, and withal against his betterjudgment, Jack Harvey found a strange allurement in the suggestion. At notime in all his life could it have been held forth so opportunely. Hethought of his father and mother, on the ocean, to be gone for sixmonths. He knew, too, what his father would say, when he should tell himof it later; how the bluff, careless, elder Harvey would throw back hishead, and laugh, and vow he was the same sort when he was a youth.

  How strangely, too, events that had taken place in Benton coincidedfavourably with his already half-formed intention to take the chance. Herecalled, in a flash, the hour of leaving there, with his father andmother, for Baltimore; how Henry Burns's aunt, with whom he had beenboarding, had asked when he would return; how Harvey's mother hadanswered that she hoped yet to persuade the boy to accompany them toEurope; and how Miss Matilda Burns had said, then, she should expect himwhen he arrived--no sooner--and had remarked, smiling, that if he didn'tcome back at all she should know he had gone to Europe.

  "It's only for a month, you know," suggested young Mr. Jenkins, almost asthough he had been reading Harvey's thoughts.

  Harvey sat for a moment, thinking hard.

  "Isn't it pretty cold down there in the bay this time of year?" he asked.

  "Why, bless you, no," replied Mr. Jenkins, laughing at the suggestion."Don't you know you're in the South, now, my boy? This is the coldestday, right now, that we'll have till January. And if we have a touch ofwinter--which isn't likely--why, there's a good, comfortable cabin towarm up in."

  "Are we sure to get back in a month?"

  "Joe, when are you due back here?" called Mr. Jenkins.

  "Middle of December," came the reply.

  "I'm most inclined to try it," said Harvey, hesitatingly.

  Mr. Jenkins slapped him on the back, then shook his hand warmly.

  "You're the right sort," he said. "We'll have a lark."

  And Harvey knew from that moment that, for better or worse, be it afoolish venture or not, he was in for it.

  "What do I need to get for the trip?" he asked. "Guess I'd better step upinto the town and buy some boots and oil-skins."

  A look of determination came into the face of Mr. Jenkins. It was as ifhe had made up his mind that Harvey should have no opportunity now ofbacking out.

  "No, you don't need to," he said. "The captain's got all that stuff, andhe buys at wholesale, and you can get it cheaper of him. Wait tillto-morrow, anyway, and if he can't fit you, we'll go ashore."

  Harvey gave a start of surprise. He hadn't counted on spending this nightaboard the schooner.

  "Do you mean to stay here to-night?" he asked.

  "Why, sure," responded young Mr. Jenkins. "Good chance to try it on andsee how you like it. We'll just roll up here, and you'll swear you werenever more comfortable in all your life."

  "Well," answered Harvey, "I'll try it. You're sure the captain will shipus, though?"

  "Oh, you can take what that boy Joe says for gospel," answered young Mr.Jenkins. "He knows."

  "Then I'll step out on deck and bring down that little hand-bag of mine,"said Harvey. "I left it forward by the rail when I came aboard. It's gota comb and brush and a tooth-brush and a change of underwear in it."

  Harvey ascended the ladder and walked out on deck. It was a gloriousnight, the sky studded with thousands of stars. The air was chilly, butHarvey was warmly dressed, and the crisp air was invigorating after hisstay in the cabin. He went forward, wondering, in his somewhat confusedstate of mind, what his chums in Benton would think of it if they couldknow where he was, and what he contemplated doing.

  "I only wish Henry Burns was going along," he thought. "Well, I'll havesomething to tell him next time I see him."

  He little thought under what strange circumstances they would next meet.

  Hardly had Harvey left the cabin, when young Mr. Jenkins sprang into thegalley, leering at the boy Joe, and digging that stolid youngsterfacetiously in the ribs.

  "Oh, that's rich!" he chuckled. "What do you say, Joey--a prettyhair-brush and comb and a tooth-brush aboard an oyster dredger? You'llhave to tell old Haley to get a mirror--a French-plate, gold-leafmirror--for Mr. Harvey. Oh, he'd do it, all right. He'll--ah, ha, ha--ohjimminy Christmas! Isn't that rich?"

  The boy, Joe, turned toward Mr. Jenkins, somewhat angrily.

  "You think you're smart," he muttered. "You'll get come up with, one ofthese days. What did you get him for? He ain't the right sort. He's gotfolks as will make trouble. I'll bet the old man won't stand for him."

  "Look here, you," exclaimed Mr. Jenkins, seizing the boy, roughly, "youshut up! Who asked you to tell me what to do? Don't I know my business?Don't I know old Scroop, too, as much as you do? Of course he'll standfor him--when I tell him a few things. You leave that to me, and don'tyou go interfering, or I'll hand you something you'll feel for a week."

  The boy shrank back, and relapsed into stolid silence.

  "Where's that pen and ink?" inquired Jenkins.

  The boy pointed to a locker.

  Taking a faded wallet from his pocket, Mr. Jenkins produced therefrom apaper which he unfolded and spread upon the table. It seemed to be aform, of some sort or other, partly type-written. He got the rusty penand a small bottle of ink, laid them beside it, and waited for Harvey'sreturn. Harvey soon reappeared.

  "We'll just sign this agreement," remarked Mr. Jenkins carelessly."Scroop had some aboard here. They don't mean much, with a good captainlike him, for he does better than he's bound to, anyway. I'll just run itover, so you can get an idea of it."

  Talking glibly, Mr. Jenkins ran his finger along the lines, wherebyHarvey, by the dim light, got a somewhat hazy idea of them: to the effectthat he, Jack Harvey, twenty-one years of age, was bound to serve for onemonth aboard the fisherman, Z. B. Brandt, whereof the master was HamiltonHaley, on a dredging trip in Chesapeake bay and its tributaries.Together, with divers conditions and provisions which Mr. Jenkinsdismissed briefly, as of no account.

  "But I'm not twenty-one years old," said Harvey. "That's wrong."

  "Oh, that don't amount to anything," responded Mr. Jenkins. "I knew youweren't quite that, but it's near enough. It's all right. No one everlooks at it. We'll sign, and it's all over. Then we'll turn in, and seethe captain in the morning. He's going to be late, by the looks."

  "But I thought you said the captain's name was Scroop," suggested Harvey,puzzled.

  "So it is," replied Mr. Jenkins. "This is an old contract, but it's justas good. Haley used to be captain, and they use the old forms. It don'tmatter what the captain's name is, so long as he's all right, and he'sgot a good boat."

  Harvey, following the example of his companion, put his name to thepaper.

  It might have been different had he had opportunity to take note, oncoming aboard, that the schooner, in the cabin of which he now sat, boreno such name on bow and stern as the "Z. B. Brandt." It might have beendifferent had he seen, in his mind's eye, the real Z. B. Brandt, pitchingand tossing in the waters of Chesapeake Bay, seventy odd miles belowwhere the schooner lay in her snug berth. But he knew naught of that, northat the schooner in which he was about to take up his quarters for thenight was no more like the Z. B. Brandt than a Pullman is like acattle-car.

  It was with his mind filled with a picture of the voyage soon over anddone, and a proud return to Henry Burns and his cronies, that Harveyturned in shortly, on one of the bunks, wrapped himself snugly in a goodwarm blanket, and went off to sleep. The creaking of rigging, as somecraft moved with the current, the noise o
f some new arrival coming inlate to join the fleet at moorings, the tramp of an occasional sailor onthe deck of a neighbouring craft, and the swinging of the schooner, didnot disturb his sound slumbers. Wearied with the doings of a busy day, hedid not move, once his eyes had closed in sleep.

  Some time after eleven o'clock, Mr. Jenkins arose softly and steppedcautiously over to where Harvey lay. There was no mistaking the soundnessof Harvey's slumbers. Mr. Jenkins slipped out of the cabin, upon deck. Arow-boat soon attracted his attention, coming toward the schooner fromsomewhere below. There were three figures in it. As the boat camealongside, Mr. Jenkins stepped to the rail and spoke to the man in thestern.

  "Hello, Scroop," he said. "I've got another for you. He wouldn't drink,but he's a sound sleeper."

  The captain nodded. With the assistance of his companion in the boat,whom Mr. Jenkins called mate, and of Mr. Jenkins, himself, another manwas lifted from the small craft to the deck of the schooner. He seemedhalf asleep, and walked between them like one that had been drugged. Theydid not take him aft, but assisted him down into the forecastle, andreturned presently, without him.

  "All right, captain?" queried Mr. Jenkins.

  "Yes, cast us off."

  Mr. Jenkins sprang over the rail, to the deck of the craft alongside. Hecast off the lines, forward and aft, that had moored the schooner to theother vessel. The captain and mate ran up one of the jibs. Mr. Jenkinspushed vigorously, and the bow of the schooner slowly swung clear. Thecurrent aided. The light night breeze caught the jib. The schoonerdrifted away, with Captain Scroop at the wheel.

  Mr. Jenkins, standing on the deck of the vessel to which the schooner hadbeen moored, watched the latter glide away. After a little time theforesail was run up. The schooner was leaving the harbour of Baltimore.

  Mr. Jenkins did a little shuffle, thrust his hands into his pockets, andwalked briskly across the decks to shore.

  "That's ten dollars easy money for me and Scroop," he muttered. Then hestopped once and chuckled. "A comb and brush and a tooth-brush aboard oldHaley's bug-eye!" he said. "Oh, my! That's a good one."