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

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

  CHAPTER XVII ARTIE JENKINS AT THE DREDGES

  Captain Hamilton Haley, stepping eagerly aboard the other bug-eye,accosted Captain Bill.

  "Have you got him?" he asked.

  "Reckon I have," said Captain Bill; "and he's been squealing like a baby.Just like those chaps as are always trapping other chaps; once they getit, themselves, they go all to pieces. You met Tom Noyes, then, allright? I sent word down by him. I thought I'd get Artie."

  "Yes, and I've got another one, too," said Haley. "He's stowed infor'ard; I haven't got a good look at him yet. Caught him trying to robthe men in the forecastle; he'd sneaked out from shore. I reckon he won'tbe any great hand at the dredges, but I'll make him work his passage, allright. Bill, you've done me more good catching that little crimp, ArtieJenkins, than it would to find a brand new reef that no dredger had evertouched before. Get 'em to fetch him aboard."

  Jim Adams escorting him, with a big, black hand at the scruff of hiscollar, and Sam Black walking alongside, grinning at the success of hispart of the plot--admonishing the youth as to what would befall himshould he utter a cry--there appeared Artie Jenkins, his knees wabblingunder him, the drops of perspiration standing out on his forehead. Theymarched him down into the cabin, where, a moment later, descended CaptainHamilton Haley. The other bug-eye cast off, and the two vessels resumedtheir course down the river at full speed.

  Hamilton Haley, standing with arms akimbo, his great round head thrustforward, his gray eyes twinkling with a cruel light, surveyed the youngman before him, much as a spider might eye a fly that had becomeentangled in its web. A look of intense satisfaction overspread his face.

  "Well," he said, hoarsely, "thought you'd come aboard, did you, Artie?"

  Artie Jenkins, the heart all taken out of him, trembling and weak-kneed,essayed a feeble smile, which made his sallow face take on a moreunprepossessing expression than ever.

  "I say, Haley," he said in a shaking voice, "this is a beastly joke youand Bill are playing--a joke I don't like. It's got on my nerves. Youwouldn't lug me off down the bay--you know you wouldn't, Haley.'Twouldn't be the square thing. Nobody ever did a trick like that. Comeon, old man, say you're going to put me off down below. I'll stand forthe joke all right. Just say it's a joke, will you?"

  The tears were rolling down Artie Jenkins's cheeks, and he was begginglike a child. Hamilton Haley eyed him with a contempt that could not beexpressed in words. But there was no suggestion of relenting in his gaze.

  "Of course it's a joke, Artie," he said, sneeringly. "It's a joke, allright, and it's what I call a downright good one. Ha! ha! A joke, eh?Well, if it isn't a joke, I'd like to know what they call one." Then hisvoice grew louder and more threatening as he continued. "It's a joke likesome of those jokes you've been a-playing on Bill and me for the lasteight years."

  Haley clenched his fist and shook it at the cowering youth. "That's thesort of a joke it is," he continued; "it's like them ere jokes of yoursas have been costing me and Bill ten dollars apiece. Good, able-bodied,rugged men for dredging that we've paid for in honest, hard-earnedmoney--and what have they turned out to be when we gets 'em down the bay?A lot of counter-jumpers and boys that get sick on us with a week's workat the winders. That's what!

  "Now you get up and quit snivelling and go for'ard; and don't you makeany fuss, or you'll never get back to Baltimore, as sure as my name'sHaley. Here, Jim, show him where he'll bunk."

  Jim Adams, seizing the shrinking form of Artie Jenkins by the convenientcollar, dragged him forth from the cabin. True to his method, Jim Adamsassumed his customary mock politeness.

  "Be jes' so kind as to walk for'ard, Mister Jenkins," he said, and turnedthe young man toward the forecastle. A recklessness, inspired bydesperation, seized upon Artie Jenkins. He wrenched violently at the handthat held him, and for a moment freed himself.

  "I won't go down into that dirty forecastle," he cried. "You can't makeme."

  Jim Adams's bony hand again grasped him and spun him around till his headswam. At the same time, a short piece of rope swung by the mate sang inthe air, and Artie Jenkins felt the sharp sting of it across hisshoulders. A series of blows followed, mingled with the scoffing words ofthe mate.

  "Won't you please 'blige me by stepping down into that fo'castle, MisterJenkins?" he said. "I's sorry to trouble you, but I wish you'd jes' stepdown to 'blige me."

  Artie Jenkins, under the merciless lash of the mate, lost little time inobeying. Cringing and crying, he darted down into the dark, dampforecastle and stowed himself away in the first available bunk. Thetaunting words of the mate sounded in his ears for a moment: "Thank you,Mister Jenkins; I'm much 'bliged to you, sah. You saves me the trouble ofusing force to carry out the orders of Cap'n Haley, sah."

  The bug-eye, Brandt, with its companion craft, skimmed down the Patuxentlike a bird. Captain Haley, with a huge satisfaction in his heart, turnedinto his own bunk, leaving the wheel to Jim Adams, and slept the sleep ofthe just. The night had been satisfactory. Life was not all onedisappointment. He could sleep well.

  The bug-eye, with its trim lines, its picturesque rake of masts, itssails filled with the smart breeze that made the vessel heel gracefully,and the now waning moonlight casting a faint gleam on its sails, made apretty picture as it glided down the river. One standing on the DrumPoint shore, as the vessel went by in the early hour before dawn, wouldhave admired the sight. Jim Adams hummed a jolly rag-time tune as theBrandt passed out by the lighthouse, into the open bay, and headed forTangier Sound.

  Some time later, a shaft of sunlight streaming down the companion-wayawoke Henry Burns. Once asleep, he had slept soundly, the blow he hadreceived having only stunned him and done him no great harm. The bug-eyewas pitching in a heavy chop-sea, and a youth in the bunk near him wasgroaning; but Henry Burns, accustomed at home to bay sailing, felt no illeffects from the thrashing of the boat.

  For a moment he wondered what was the matter with the old Warrenfarmhouse. Then the memory of the events of the night came back in aflash. Henry Burns sprang up and darted out on deck. It was all too true.He was a prisoner aboard the bug-eye; they were leaving Drum Point farastern.

  Henry Burns shrugged his shoulders and seated himself on the forecastlehatch. He was in for it--whatever might happen--and it was not in hismake-up to worry over what he could not help.

  A step on the deck, as a man emerged from the cabin, caused him to lookup. The figure that his eyes rested upon gave him a start of surprise.Where had he seen the man before? Then he remembered. It was the man whomYoung Joe had butted in the stomach in darting out of the Warrendoor--the Captain Haley, of whom he had an unpleasant recollection. HenryBurns gave a low whistle of evident concern.

  Seeing the boy sitting, watching him, Hamilton Haley strode forward. Whenhe had approached near, he, too, stopped and eyed him with surprise. Thenhis face darkened.

  "Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed. "It's you, is it, Young Impertinence?What sent you sneaking aboard here in the night? Confound you, if I'da-known it was you, I'd just have chucked your overboard neck and crop."

  For once, Hamilton Haley seemed perplexed. Here was someone he evidentlydidn't want. He glanced back toward the harbour, as if estimating how farthey had come from land. Then he shook his head. To Henry Burns'ssurprise, Captain Haley turned abruptly, without another word, and wentback to the wheel, where Jim Adams was seated, yawning.

  The two men talked together, earnestly. It was clear Haley did not whollyfavour the idea of carrying off a boy from the Patuxent harbour, frompeople that would make trouble. It was risky business; there was bound tobe trouble. Jim Adams seemed not to encourage it, either; but the bug-eyewas miles out from the river now, and the breeze was favourable. Afterfurther conversation with the mate, Haley went forward again.

  "See here, youngster," he said, "I'm a man as does an honest business ofdredging, and I don't kidnap boys for the work. But here you are, comeaboard, and it ain't my fault. You know that
for yourself. Hang me, if Ididn't take you for one of them little rats as steal stuff when they getsa chance. I'd have chucked you overboard quick, if I'd a known it wasyou--what were you doing out here, anyway? That's what I'd like to know."

  Henry Burns thought quickly. To say that he had come to look for JackHarvey would be to reveal the fact that he was aware of Haley'scharacter; that he was a witness who would appear against Haley when thetime came; that his very existence was a danger and a menace to Haley,who was now bound for the wilderness of the Eastern shore.

  "I was just looking around," he said.

  "You're a little, meddlesome fool!" cried Haley. "I don't want you here,confound you! But you're here. You came aboard, yourself. I didn't carryyou off. You've got to stay now. I won't turn back, if I go to jail forit. But I tell you what I will do; I'll fetch you back the first time Icome. You'll fare no worse than the rest of the crew. But you'll workyour passage, mind you. This is no free lodging house. Go on and getsomething to eat."

  "Better set me back," said Henry Burns, calmly.

  "No, I'm busted if I will!" cried Haley. "You'll go the trip now, thoughif I hadn't cut your skiff loose I'd set you adrift in it. It's your ownfault."

  Henry Burns saw it was useless to argue. He went aft, as indicated byHaley, and ate his breakfast. It was sorry stuff, but he was hungry andhe ate what was set before him.

  Henry Burns was not a youth to remain inactive, although carried offagainst his will. Having finished breakfast, he went on deck and walkedforward, to where Jim Adams was at work with a piece of rigging,attempting, at the same time, to explain to two sailors what he wasdoing.

  "You unlay that strand," he was saying, "and you lead him back, sofashion. Then you picks up that ere strand, and you lays him up in theplace where t'other strand came from. See?"

  The two men looked on, blankly. It was evident the process was blind tothem.

  "Why, hello, sonny," remarked Jim Adams, as Henry Burns came up. Themulatto, tireless and hardened to the life, after three hours' sleep onrelief from the wheel, happened to be in a good humour. He continued,"Reckon you's the new boarder at our hotel, eh? Ha! ha! Specs you neversaw nothin' like that befo'?" He held up the work he was doing.

  "Oh, yes," replied Henry Burns, "you're putting a long splice in thathalyard so it will reeve through that block. You've parted your throathalyard."

  Jim Adams dropped his work, put both hands on his knees and stared atHenry Burns, while a broad grin overspread his face.

  "Sho now," he exclaimed, "I jes' wonder what Boss Haley he'll say when hefinds he's got another cap'n aboard here. I guess you'll get my jobpretty quick an' I won't be first mate no mo'. Where you larn all that,sonny?"

  Henry Burns smiled. "I picked it up, yachting," he said.

  "That's a smart little kid," said the mulatto. "Reckon you might go andfinish up that splice, eh?" He held up the rope, half skeptically, toHenry Burns. The youth took it, seated himself on the deck, removed apair of heavy gloves he wore, and took up the splicing where Jim Adamshad left off. He found it hard work, in the chilling winter air, and hishands were nearly numbed before he had finished. But he beat them againsthis body until they tingled, went on with the work, divided his strandsneatly at the finish, cut the ends and handed back the piece of rigging,neatly spliced.

  Jim Adams burst into a roar of laughter.

  "That sho' is the funniest thing I ever saw," he said. "Why, yousenothin' but a little kid."

  Henry Burns had at least found some favour in the mate's eyes. Some timelater, he was accosted by one of the men that had been standing by.

  "I wish you'd show me some of those tricks," said the fellow. "I'm havingit pretty rough aboard here. I can't understand when that mate shows us athing. He does it so quick, you can't see how it's done; and then hecurses us for not understanding. Maybe if I learned a few things likethat, I'd get treated better."

  Henry Burns looked at the speaker, and found him a young man of abouttwenty years, thick set, a good-natured expression, somewhat dulled andset by rough usage at Haley's and the mate's hands.

  "My name's Wallace Brooks," continued the young man. "I got carried off,too, from Baltimore. I can stand the winter out, I guess, because I'mtough; but it's the hardest work I ever did."

  "I'll show you anything I know," replied Henry Burns, "and I'll be gladto do it. I guess I'll need a friend to stand by me. I don't know howI'll last at this sort of work."

  They shook hands on the friendship.

  Henry Burns saw another side of the mate's nature, not long after. Therewas a commotion in the forecastle, and there emerged Jim Adams draggingArtie Jenkins by the scruff of the collar. He threw him sprawling on thedeck, caught up a canvas bucket, with a line attached, threw the bucketoverboard, drew it in half-filled with sea water, and dashed it in theface of the prostrate youth.

  "You mustn't go gettin' balky, Mister Jenkins," he said. "Youse goin' towork, like the rest of the folks. Won't you please jes' go down and getyou' breakfas' now, cause I want you pretty soon on deck, when we get offHooper's."

  Artie Jenkins, bellowing with rage and fright, scrambled to his feet andfled as fast as his legs would carry him for the cabin. The mate gave agrin of delight.

  "They sho' can't fool me," he said. "Reckon I knows when a man is seasickand when he's shamming."

  They arrived at the dredging grounds within two hours, and the workbegan. Henry Burns was not set at the winders at first. There seemed tobe some understanding between Haley and the mate that he should not betreated too harshly. He was put at the work of culling the oysters thatwere taken aboard--a dirty and disagreeable task, but not so laborious asthe winding.

  Artie Jenkins got his first taste of the work, however. He was driven toit by the threats and blows of Jim Adams. He was a sorry sight. Clad inoil-skins too big for his lank figure, a flaming red necktie showingabove the collar, and a derby hat out of keeping with the seaman'sclothes, he presented a picture that would have been ludicrous if it hadnot been miserable.

  The mate suffered him not to lag; nor did he cease to taunt him.

  "Youse a sho' 'nuff born sailor, Mister Jenkins," he said, and repeatedit over several times, as the unwilling victim worked drearily. "Youlooks jes' like one of them able-bodied seamen that you been sending downfrom Baltimore."

  Artie Jenkins groaned, and toiled, hopelessly. He gave out, some time inthe afternoon, and Henry Burns was made to take his place. At dusk theystowed away the gear and ran for harbour, in through Hooper strait.

  The next day, unusual in the winter season, there fell a dead calm. Therewas no getting out to the grounds, and the day was spent in overhaulingthe gear, wrapping parts that were worn with chafing, etc. It was sometime that forenoon that Henry Burns, getting a good look at ArtieJenkins, recognized him. It was the young man he had seen on the riversteamer, and whose invitation he had resented. Something about the youthrepelled him more than before, and he made no attempt to renew that briefacquaintanceship. Yet, observing the treatment Artie Jenkins wasreceiving, he was sorry for him.

  "What makes them so hard on that chap, Jenkins, I wonder?" he asked ofBrooks, as they stood together, that afternoon. "It makes my blood boil,but I don't dare say anything."

  "Hmph!" exclaimed Brooks. "Don't you let your blood boil for him. He'sgetting what he deserves, all right. Didn't you hear what Jim Adamscalled him? He's a crimp."

  "A what?"

  "A crimp. Don't you know what that is? It's a fellow that drugs men up inBaltimore, and ships 'em down here for ten dollars apiece, when theydon't know it. They wake up aboard here. That happened to me, though thischap didn't do it. He did the trick, though, for two men that got awaythe other day. I heard them say it was a fellow named Artie Jenkins thattrapped them. One was named Edwards; he was a travelling man of somesort. My, how he did hate the winders. T'other was a young chap; Harveywas his name."

  Henry Burns gave a cry of astonishment.

  "Then Jack was aboard here--and he got away, do yo
u say?"

  It was the other's turn to be surprised.

  "Why, yes, Jack Harvey was his name," he said. "Did you know him?"

  Henry Burns briefly told of his friendship and his hunt for his missingfriend. "I thought there must be some mistake," he said, "when I didn'tfind him aboard here. But tell me, how did he get away?"

  Wallace Brooks related the circumstances of the escape, as George Haley,the cook, had told of it; of the flight to shore on the hatch, and ofHaley's rage at losing both men and property.

  Henry Burns smiled at that part of the adventure, despite his chagrin.Then he grew serious.

  "I'll bet it was poor old Jack and Edwards who slept in Edward Warren'sbarn," he said. "There were two strangers seen about the landing the nextday. Where could Jack have gone to? Up river, I suppose, on asteamer--and here I am in his place! Isn't that a mess?"

  That same afternoon, Artie Jenkins, in passing Henry Burns, rememberedthat his face seemed familiar. He halted and stared for a moment. Thenhis face lighted up with a certain satisfaction in the other's plight.

  "Hello," he said, "so you landed here, too, eh? I reckon you're not quiteso smart as you thought you were, coming down the river."

  "Yes, I'm here," answered Henry Burns, coolly; "too bad you didn't maketen dollars out of it; now wasn't it?"

  "What's that to you?" snarled Artie Jenkins, angrily. "I don't know whatyou mean, anyway."

  "Oh, yes, you do," replied Henry Burns. "I know what you are, and so dothe crew. It's almost worth while being here, to see a crimp work at thedredges."

  Artie Jenkins, furious at the reply, and observing that the speaker wasyounger and smaller than himself, darted at Henry Burns and struck out athim. Henry Burns easily warded off the blow and, unruffled, returned onethat sent Artie Jenkins reeling back. The next moment Jim Adams rushedbetween them.

  "What's all this about--fighting aboard here?" he cried.

  But Captain Hamilton from the other end of the vessel had likewiseobserved the quarrel. He came forward now, blustering, but with a shrewdtwinkle in his eyes.

  "Let 'em fight, Jim," he said; "let 'em have it out. Peel off thoseoil-skins, you young rascals. I'll teach you both to disturb the peaceand quiet aboard this ere respectable and law-abidin' craft. You'll fightnow, till one or t'other of you gets his licking. Rip 'em off, I say."

  But Artie Jenkins, having felt the force of Henry Burns's blow and notedhis skill in avoiding his own, was not so eager for the fray.

  "I don't care about fighting a boy smaller than I am," he stammered,fumbling at the strings of his slicker. "I don't want to hurt him."

  Haley bawled in derision. "Oh, you don't, eh?" he cried. "Well, you lookout he don't hurt you. Do you see that piece of rope?" He dangled an endof rigging in his hand. "Well, the first one of you that tries to quit,gets a taste of that."

  Henry Burns had not expected to be drawn into a fight with Artie Jenkins,but he had no fear of him. He had observed the youth's cheeks pale as hereturned his blow. He knew he was cowardly. He thought of Jack Harvey,tricked into the slavery of dredging at Artie Jenkins's hands. He threwoff his oil-skins and waited for the word. He looked Haley squarely inthe eyes and remarked, calmly, "If you see me quitting, just lay it ongood and hard."

  "You bet I will!" blustered Haley; but he knew, full well, there would beno need.

  Artie Jenkins was cornered and desperate. He dared not wait till hiscourage should cool, but made a rush at Henry Burns the moment he haddivested himself of the heavy oil-skins. They struggled for a moment,exchanging blows at short range. They were both hurt and stinging whenthey broke away, to regain breath. The difference was, however, thatHenry Burns was smiling in the most aggravating way at his antagonist.The blows meant little to him. He was avenging Jack Harvey--and he had amost extraordinary control of his temper. Artie Jenkins was smarting andfurious.

  "Get to work there," bawled Haley, swinging the rope.

  They were at it again in earnest. But the advantage even now was withHenry Burns. He was wiry and athletic; a strong runner, and a baseballplayer; and he had boxed with George Warren and Tom Harris by the hour,in the barn they used as a canoe club in Benton. Artie Jenkins's traininghad consisted largely of loafing about the docks, smoking cigarettes.

  Seeing that his adversary was no longer strong enough to rush him, HenryBurns tried tactics to tire him out. He darted in, delivering a quickblow, and stepping back out of reach of the other's arm. He warded offthe other's wild blows, and left him panting and bewildered. Worse thanall, he continued to smile at him, provokingly.

  In an unfortunate moment, Artie Jenkins rushed in, clinched and tried tothrow his smaller adversary. It was the worst thing he could haveattempted. A moment more, and he lay, flat on his back, half stunned.

  Henry Burns waited for him to arise; but Artie Jenkins lay still. He hadhad enough.

  "Get up there; you're quitting!" cried Haley, standing over him andbrandishing the rope's end. But Artie Jenkins only half sat up andwhined. "I can't go on," he whimpered; "I'm hurt."

  Haley swung the rope and brought it down across Artie Jenkins'sshoulders. The youth howled for mercy.

  "Get up and fight, or you'll get more of it!" cried Haley.

  Artie Jenkins suddenly scrambled to his feet. But he did not face HenryBurns, who was waiting. Beaten and thoroughly humbled, Artie Jenkinssought relief in flight. Dodging the uplifted arm of Haley, he darted forthe forecastle, tumbled down the companion and dived into a bunk.

  Hamilton Haley, undecided for a moment whether to follow or not, finallyturned and walked aft. There was a hard smile of satisfaction on hisface.

  The next day was as wild as the preceding had been calm and placid. Thewind came up from the east with a rush, in the early morning, and the baywas tossing and white-capped as the crew of the dredger came on deck.There would be no work that day, they thought. But they weredisappointed. Haley ordered sail made, and the bug-eye, with reefs in,bore up under the lee of Hooper island.

  It was cruel work at the dredges that day. The men toiled by turns tillexhausted, when Haley allowed them a reluctant refuge, to thaw out, bythe cabin fire. Then he drove them to work again. The storm broughtmingled sleet and snow. It caught in the folds of the sails and came downupon their heads in little torrents with the slatting of the canvas.Sleet and snow drove hard in their faces. But the work went on.

  Artie Jenkins shivered at the winders, even as the perspiration was wrungfrom him with the unusual exertion. He suffered so that Henry Burns andthe crew pitied him; but Haley and the mate showed no mercy. They hadseen men suffer before--men that they had paid ten dollars apiece toArtie Jenkins for. He gave out by afternoon, however, and the mate hadfairly to drag him below. He moaned that he was sick, but they did notbelieve him.

  That night he ran out of the forecastle on deck, delirious, and wakenedHaley out of sleep. Haley saw that he was really ill, and gave himsomething to take, from a chest of patent stuff he had aboard. ArtieJenkins fell in a heap on the cabin floor, and Haley let him lie therethe rest of the night.

  The next morning, Haley and the mate, standing over Artie Jenkins, lookedtroubled. The sufferer lay moaning and feverish. Jim Adams bent over andexamined him.

  "He's bad--downright bad, boss," he said, looking up at Haley. The otherscowled, but with some anxiety in his face. "He'll come around all right,won't he?" he asked. "Specs he may," replied the mate; "but I've seen 'emlike that, feverish, before, and it's a bad sign down here."

  "Hang him!" exclaimed Haley. "What'll we do with him?"

  "Well," replied Jim Adams, "if he was mine, I'd let him go, seeing as hedidn't cost any money. Tom's going across to t'other shore to-day. Whynot let him have him and leave him? We don't want to land him down here."

  Haley grumbled, but acquiesced.

  "Take him out," he said. "He's no good, anyway. I've got square. That'swhat I wanted."

  Jim Adams lifted Artie Jenkins bodily and carried him out of the cabin.

  A bug-eye
that ran across from the eastern shore that afternoon carriedthe unfortunate Artie Jenkins as a passenger. He lay asleep in the cabin.Toward dusk the bug-eye reached the other shore, and anchored near land.A skiff left the side, with Artie Jenkins in the bottom of it. It landed,and two men carried the youth up to an old deserted shanty by the shoreof a small creek in St. Mary County, some five or six miles above OtterPoint. They left him there, alone, threw some mouldy blankets over him,and departed.

  Artie Jenkins's dredging experience was over.