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

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

  CHAPTER IV ABOARD THE BUG-EYE

  Jack Harvey stood at the foot of the short ladder leading down into theforecastle, looking anxiously about him. A boat-lantern, wired forprotection in handling, hung by the bulkhead, affording a gloomy view ofthe place. Harvey had, in the course of much roughing it, lived at timesin tents, in log cabins, and in odd sorts of shacks, and slept in thecabins of the fishing boats of Samoset Bay in Maine. But never in all hisexperience had he found himself in such dismal, cramped and forbiddingquarters as these.

  On either side of the forecastle nearest the ladder was a narrow, shallowbunk, raised a little above the floor, sufficient to tuck a few odds andends of clothing under; directly above each was a similar bunk, of equaldimensions. All four of these had scarcely any head-room at all--anarrangement whereby one, springing quickly up into a sitting posture,would give his head such a bump as would remind him unpleasantly of theeconomy of space.

  In the lower of these bunks there now lay two men, at least asleep if notresting. They breathed heavily, moaning as though in some unnaturalcondition of slumber. It was evident to Harvey that they were under theinfluence of something like a drug; and the recollection flashed throughhis mind of the offer of young Mr. Jenkins in the cabin of theschooner--which he had fortunately refused. If he were, indeed, acaptive, he was at least in no such senseless condition as these men.

  The upper bunks held two more occupants. These two slept quietly, eventhrough the disturbance that had been made so recently. Perhaps they werenot unused to such occurrences. It was apparent they were sailors, andtheir sleep was natural. In all likelihood, the two lower bunks had beenleft vacant for new recruits, the old seamen taking the upper ones.

  All this Jack Harvey took in with a few quick glances. What he saw nextgave him something of a start.

  Forward of the four bunks described were yet two others, the space in theforecastle being arranged "to sleep" six men. These bunks were, if such athing could be possible, even less comfortable than the others. Curvingwith the lines of the bows of the vessel, they had scarce length enoughfor a good sized man to stretch out in. In part compensation for which,however, there being no upper bunks, there was head-room enough so thatone could sit upright with some degree of comfort.

  In the starboard bunk there sat a man, huddled up, with one arm bracinghim from behind, and a hand, clutching one knee. He was staring at thenew-comer Harvey, with a look of abject despair.

  Harvey, surprised and startled to find himself thus confronting someonewho was clearly in his proper senses, returned the man's gaze, and thetwo stared wonderingly at each other for a moment, in silence.

  With a groan, the man swung himself down to the floor and advanced astep.

  "Hullo," he said, "how in the Dickens did they get you?"

  "Same to you," said Harvey, by way of reply. He had, at the sight of thiscompanion in misery, regained his composure a little. Unconsciously, thefact that here was someone with whom he could share misfortune had raisedhis courage. For Harvey had taken in the appearance of the man at once.He was well dressed. His clothes were of fine material and of a stylishcut--albeit they were wrinkled and dusty from his recent experiences. Atorn place in the sleeve of his coat told, too, of the rough handling hehad received. His collar was crumpled and wilted, his tie disarranged. Aderby hat that he had worn lay now on the floor, in one corner, with thecrown broken. On the little finger of his left hand he wore a ring.

  Instinctively, Jack Harvey and the stranger extended arms and graspedhands, with the warmth of sudden friendship born of mutual sympathy.

  "Well, I'll be hanged, if they're not a lot of scoundrels!" exclaimed theman, surveying Harvey with astonishment. "Why, you're only a boy. How onearth did they get you? Didn't drug your drink, did they?"

  "No, I don't drink," said Harvey. "I signed for a cruise, all right, butnot on this craft. I signed to go a month on that schooner that broughtme down. Cracky, but it looks as though I'd made a mess of it. A chapnamed Jenkins got me into this--"

  "Jenkins!" cried the man, bursting out in a fury. "Jenkins, was it? Slim,oily chap, flashy waistcoat and sailor tie?"

  Harvey nodded.

  The man clenched his fist and raised it above his head.

  "Told you he was going to Johns Hopkins when he earned the money--nicefamily but poor--and all that sort of rot?"

  "That's the chap," said Harvey.

  The man dropped his fist, put out a hand to Harvey, and they shook oncemore. The man's face relaxed into a grim smile.

  "Well, I'm another Jenkins recruit," he said. "I'm an idiot, an ass,anything you're a-mind to call me. There's some excuse for you--but me, aman that's travelled from one end of this United States to the other, andmet every kind of a sharper between New York and San Francisco--to getcaught in a scrape like this!"

  "Why, then your name is not Tom Saunders," exclaimed Harvey, who nowrecognized in his new acquaintance the man he had seen struggling withthe men of the schooner. "They said you were a sailor." The man made agesture of disgust. "I hate the very smell of the salt water!" he cried.

  There was a small sea chest next to the bulk-head at the forward end ofthe forecastle, and Harvey and the stranger seated themselves on it. Theman relapsed for a moment into silence, his elbows on his knees, his faceburied in his hands. Then, all of a sudden, he sat erect, and beat hisfist down upon one knee.

  "This ends it!" he cried, earnestly. "Never again as long as I live andbreathe."

  Harvey stared at him in surprise.

  "I mean the drink," cried the man, excitedly. "Mind what I say, and Imean it. Never another drink as long as I live. I've said, before, thatI'd stop it, but this ends it. Say, what's your name, anyway?"

  "Jack Harvey."

  "Well, my name's Edwards--Tom Edwards. Now look here, Harvey, I mean whatI say; if you ever see Tom Edwards try to take another drink, you justwalk up and hit him the hardest knock you can give him. See?"

  Harvey laughed, in spite of the other's earnestness.

  "I won't have any chance for some time, by the looks of things," he said."You won't need to sign any pledge this month. I reckon there's no saloonaboard this vessel."

  "I'm glad of it," exclaimed Edwards. "I wouldn't walk into one now, ifthey were giving the stuff away. Look what it's got me into. Say, how didour Johns Hopkins friend catch you?"

  Harvey quickly narrated the events that had followed the departure of hisparents for Europe, and the meeting with young Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Edwards,listening with astonishment, eyed him with keenest interest.

  "That's it," he exclaimed, as Harvey recounted the engaging manner inwhich Jenkins had assured him he would return in one short month, with anautical experience that should make him the envy of his boy companions;"put it in fancy style, didn't he? Regular Tom Bowline romance, and allthat sort of thing, eh?"

  Mr. Edwards's eyes twinkled, and he was half smiling, in spite ofhimself.

  "Well," he continued, noting Harvey's athletic figure, "I guess you canstand a month of it, all right, and no great hurt to you. And, what'sbest, your folks won't worry. But I tell you, Harvey, it's going to betough on me, if I can't force this bandit to set me ashore again. I'm inan awful scrape. My business house will think I've been murdered, or haverun away--I don't know what. And when it comes to work, if we have muchof that to do, I don't know how I'm going to stand it. You see, my firmpays my expenses, and I'm used to putting up at the best hotels andliving high. So, I'm fat and lazy. Billiards is about my hardestexercise, and my hands are as soft as a woman's. See here."

  Mr. Edwards stretched out two somewhat unsteady hands, palms upward; thenslapped them down upon his knees. As he did so, he uttered a cry ofdismay and sprang to his feet, sticking out his little finger and staringat it ruefully.

  "The thieves!" he cried, angrily. "The cowardly thieves! See that ring?They've got the diamond out of it. Worth two hundred dollars, if 'twasworth a cent. They couldn't get the ring off,
without cutting it, and Isuppose they couldn't do that easily; so they've just pried out thestone."

  Harvey looked at the hand which Edwards extended. The setting of thecostly ring had, indeed, been roughly forced, and the stone it hadcontained, extracted.

  "I wouldn't care so much," said Edwards, "if it hadn't been a gift fromthe men in the store." Impulsively, he turned to Harvey and put a hand onhis shoulder.

  "Say, Harvey," he exclaimed, "when you and I get ashore again--if we everdo--we'll go and hunt up this young Mr. Jenkins."

  "All right," replied Harvey; "but it may not be quite so bad as youthink. We'll get through some way, I guess."

  Oddly enough, either by reason of the lack of responsibility that weighedon the spirits of the man, or because of a lingering eagerness foradventure, in spite of the dubious prospects, the boy, Harvey, seemed themore resolute of the two.

  "Well," responded Edwards, "I'm sorry you're in a scrape; but so long asyou're here, why, I'm glad you're the kind of a chap you are. We'll helpeach other. We'll stand together."

  And they shook hands upon it again.

  "Now," said Edwards, "here's how I came here. I'm a travelling man, for ajewelry house--Burton & Brooks, of Boston. I was on the road, got intoWashington the other night, and sold a lot of goods there. But one of mytrunks hadn't come on time, and I was hung up for a day with nothing todo. Never had been in Baltimore, and thought I'd run down for a fewhours.

  "I got dinner at a restaurant and went out to look around. I went along,hit or miss, and brought up down by the water-front. This chap, Jenkins,bumped into me and apologized like a gentleman; we got to talking, and heinvited me into one of those saloons along the front. Beastly place, andI knew it; but I was off my guard. He certainly was slick, talked abouthis family and Johns Hopkins, and pumped me all the time--I can see itnow--till he found I wasn't stopping at any hotel, but had just run in totown for the day.

  "That was all he wanted. Saw the game was safe, and then he and thefellow that ran the place must have fixed it up together. I'll bet hestands in with most of these places on the water-front. He apologized forthe place, I remember; said it was rough but clean, and the oysters thebest in Baltimore. Well, I don't remember much after that, until I wokeup in that hole on the schooner that brought us down here. I know we hadsomething to drink--and that, so help me, is the last that anyone evergets Tom Edwards to take. Shake on that, too."

  He had a hearty, bluff way of talking, and a frankness in declaringhimself to be the biggest simpleton that was ever caught with chaff, thatcompelled friendship.

  Harvey again accepted the proffered hand, smiling a little to himself,and wondering if it were a habit of the other's profession to seal allcompacts on the spot in that fashion.

  "So here I am," concluded Mr. Edwards, "in the vilest hole I ever was in;sick from the nasty pitching of this infernal boat; the worst head-ache Iever woke up with--thanks to Mr. Jenkins's drug--robbed of $150 in money,that I had in a wallet, a diamond that I wouldn't have sold at anyprice--and, worst of all, my house won't know what's become of me. Yousee, I'm registered up in Washington at a hotel there. I disappear, theyfind my trunk and goods all right, and my accounts are straight. Nobodyknows I came to Baltimore. I'm not registered at any hotel there. There'sa mystery for 'em. Isn't it a fix?"

  Harvey whistled expressively.

  "You're worse off than I am, a million times," he said. "Besides, I'vegot a little money, if it will help us out any. It's twenty-five dollarsI had for fare back to Benton, and pocket-money."

  "Where's that--where'd you say you were going?" asked Mr. Edwards,quickly.

  "Benton."

  "Benton, eh? Well, that's funny. I've been there; sold goods in Bentonlots of times. You don't happen to know a man by the name of Warrenthere, do you? He's got three boys about your age, or a littleyounger--nice man, too."

  Harvey gave an exclamation of surprise and delight.

  "Know him? I guess I do," he cried. "And the Warren fellows, well rather.Hooray!"

  It was Harvey's turn to offer the hand of fellowship this time; and hegave Mr. Edwards a squeeze that made that gentleman wince.

  "You've got a pretty good grip," said he, rubbing his right hand with theother. "I guess you can stand some hard work." Then they reverted to thesubject of Benton, once more, and it brought them closer together. Therewas Bob White's father, whom Mr. Edwards knew, and several others; andJack Harvey knew their sons; and so they might have shaken hands at leasta half dozen times more, if Mr. Edwards had been willing to risk theexperiment again.

  "Now, to get back to the money," said he, finally; "you've got to hidethat twenty-five dollars, or you'll lose it. Here, I can help you out."

  He drew forth from a pocket a rubber tobacco pouch, and emptied thecontents into an envelope in one of his inside coat pockets.

  "I don't see how they happened to leave me this," he said, "but they did,and it's lucky, too. It's just what you need. We'll tuck the bills inthis, fold it over and over, wrap a handkerchief about it, and you canfasten it inside your shirt with this big safety-pin. Trust a travellingman on the road to have what's needed in the dressing line. It may saveyou from being robbed. What are you going to do with that other five?Don't you want to save that, too?"

  Harvey had taken from a wallet in his pocket twenty dollars in bills,letting one five dollar bill remain.

  "I'm going to use that to save the rest with," replied Harvey. "Supposingthis brute of a captain asks me if I've got any money, to buy what I'llneed aboard here, or suppose I'm robbed; well, perhaps they'll think thisis all I've got, and leave me the twenty."

  "You're kind of sharp, too," responded Mr. Edwards, smiling. "You'd makea good travelling man. We'll stow this secure, I hope."

  He enfolded the bills handed to him by Harvey in the rubber tobaccopouch, wrapped the boy's handkerchief about that, and passed it, with thepin thrust through, to Harvey. Harvey, loosening his clothing, pinned theparcel of bills securely, next to his body.

  "That's the thing," said Mr. Edwards, approvingly. "That's better thanthe captain's strong-box, I reckon. I'm afraid we've struck a pirate.Whew, but I'd give five hundred--oh, hang it! What's the use of wishing?We're in for it. We'll get out, I suppose some way. I'll tackle thiscaptain in the morning. I've sold goods to pretty hard customers beforenow. If I can't sell him a line of talk that will make him set me ashore,why, then my name isn't Tom Edwards. Guess we may as well turn in, thoughI reckon I'll not sleep much in that confounded packing-box they call aberth. Good night, Harvey, my boy. Here's good luck for to-morrow."

  Mr. Edwards put forth his hand, then drew it back quickly.

  "I guess that last hand-shake will do for to-night," he said. "Prettygood grip you've got."

  Harvey watched him, curiously, as he prepared to turn in for the night.Surely, an extraordinary looking figure for the forecastle of a dingybug-eye was Mr. Tom Edwards. He removed his crumpled collar and hisnecktie, gazed at them regretfully, and tucked them beneath the edge ofthe bunk. He removed his black cut-away coat, folded it carefully, andstowed it away in one end of the same. He likewise removed a pair ofpatent leather shoes.

  It was hardly the toggery for a seaman of an oyster-dredger; and Harvey,eying the incongruous picture, would have laughed, in spite of his ownfeeling of dismay and apprehension, but for the expression of utteranguish and misery on the face of Tom Edwards, as he rolled in on to hisbunk.

  "Cheer up," said the latter, with an attempt at assurance, which the toneof his voice did not fully endorse, "I'll fix that pirate of a captain inthe morning, or I'll never sell another bill of goods as long as I live."

  "I hope so," replied Harvey.

  But he had his doubts.

  They had made their preparations not any too soon.

  A voice from the deck called out roughly, "Douse that lantern down there!Take this ere boat for an all-night dance-hall?"

  Harvey sprang from his bunk and extinguished the feeble flicker that hadgiven them light, then
crept back again. He was young; he was weary; hewas hopeful. He was soon asleep, rocked by the uneasy swinging anddipping of the vessel. Mr. Thomas Edwards, travelling man and gentlemanpatron of the best hotels, envied him, as he, himself, lay for hoursawake, a prey to many and varied emotions.

  But he, too, was not without a straw to cling to. He had his plans forthe morrow; and, as tardy slumber at length came to his weary brain, hemight have been heard to mutter, "I'll sell that captain a line--aline--a line of talk; I'll make him take it, or--or I'll--"

  His words ceased. Mr. Thomas Edwards had gone upon his travels intodreamland. And, if he could have seen there the face and figure ofCaptain Hamilton Haley of the bug-eye, Z. B. Brandt, and have listened tothat gentleman engaged in the pleasing art of conversation, he might nothave been so hopeful of selling him a "line of talk."