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-THE SLOAT
SEWING MACHINE.
4
J. BROW
ROMAR
292
IN
Jorio





CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.,
A STORY FOR BOYS.
BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.,
AUTHOR OF “ FRANK'S CAMPAIGN," “PAUL PRESCOTT'S
CHARGE,” “HELEN FORD.”
LORING, Publisher,
319 WASHINGTON STREET,
BOSTON:
18 6 7.


PREFACE.
In deference to the expressed wishes of some of
his young friends, the author has essayed a story of
the sea, and now presents "Charlie Codinan's
Cruise," as the third volume of the Campaign
Series. It will be found more adventurous than its
predecessors, and the trials which Charlie is called
upon to encounter are of a severer character than
befell Frank Frost or Paul Prescott. But it will be
found that they were met with the same manly spirit,
and a like determination to be faithful to duty at
all hazards.
Though not wholly a stranger to the sea, the
author is quite aware of the blunders to which a
landsman is exposed in treating of matters and a
mode of life which, at the best, he must comprehend
but imperfectly, and has endeavored to avoid, as far
as possible, professional technicalities, as not essen-
tial to the interest of the story.


vi
PREFACE.
With these few words he submits the present
volume to his young readers, hoping for it a wel-
come even more generous than has been accorded
to "Frank's Campaign" and "Paul Prescott's
Charge."
■


CHARLIE CODMAFS CRUISE.
L
CHARLIE AND THE MISEH.
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 S, 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 ac-
quaintance some time before.
"Where are you bound, Charlie?" asked Edwin
Banks.
7


8
CHARLIE CODHAN'S CRUISE.
"Fin going ho,me 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 a good deal to get an'
education, but I feel that I ought to help mother." .
"Why won't you cpme some time, and see us, Charlie?
Clare 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."
1' Just as if I should care for that. I will come when-
ever 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 Satur-
day came.
Shortly after the boys separated, and Charlie's atten-
tion was arrested by the sight of an old man with a
shambling gait, who was bending over and anxiously
searching for something on the sidewalk. Charlie rec-
ognized him at once as "old Manson, the miser," for
this was the name by 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


CHARLIE AND THE MISER.
9
had been properly cared for, it would have been differ-
ent; but, one by one, its functions had been blunted and
destroyed, and it had become old and out of repair.
Peter's face was ploughed with wrinkles. His cheeks
were thin, and the skin was yellow and hung in folds.
His beard appeared to have received little or no atten-
tion for a week, at least, and was now stiff and brist-
ling.
The miser's dress was not very well fitted to his form.
It was in the fashion of twenty years before. Grayish
pantaloons, patched in clivers places with dark cloth by
an unskilful hand; a vest from which the buttons had
long since departed, and which was 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 Jan-
uary he went no warmer clad. There were some who
wondered how he could stand the bitter cold of winter
with no more adequate covering; but if Peter's body
was as tough as his conscience, there was no fear of his
suffering.
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't find it, that's a good boy. Your eyes are
better than mine."
"What is it?"


10
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"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.
We must follow Peter.
With his eyes fixed on the ground he 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
to a crooked pin, which he thrust into his cloak, mutter-
ing 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


CHARLIE AND THE MISER.
11
nigh on to a hundred dollars. 'What dreadful extrava-
gance! Ha! ha! It hasn't cost old Peter twenty dol-
lars 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. O dear! what a dreadful appetite
I've got, and I must eat. All the money spent for vict-
uals seem thrown away. I've a good mind, sometimes,.
to go to the poor-house, where it wouldn't cost me any-
thing. 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 quar-
terly to 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 at home for supper. He
accordingly stepped into a baker's shop close at hand.
"Have you got any bread cheap?" he inquired of 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 apiece," said the baker. "I'll warrant


12
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 expect
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
not 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 apiece."
"You may give me one, then; I guess it'll be better
for me."
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 towards 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."


14
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
"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, "O 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, watch-
ing the shabby figure of the miser as he receded from the
shop.


n.
a miser's household.
Peter Manson owned a small house in an obscure
street. It was a weather-beaten tenement of wood, con-
taining some six or eight rooms, all of which, with one
exception, 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
apprehension 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
its absolute necessaries, we have already seen that 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 his pocket a large and rusty door-key, he
applied it to the door. It turned in the lock with a creaking
sound, and the door yielding to Peter's push he entered.


16
CIIARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
The room which he appropriated to his own use was in
the second 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 briefly these, — a cherry
table which was minus one leg, whose place had been
supplied by a broom handle fitted in its place ; three hard
wooden chairs of unknown antiquity ; an old wash-stand;
a rusty stove which Peter had picked up cheap at an auc-
tion, after finding that a stove burned out less fuel than
a fireplace; a few articles of crockery of different pat-
terns, some cracked and broken ; a few tin dishes, such as
Peter found essential in his cooking; and a low truckle
bedstead with a scanty supply of bedclothes.
Into this desolate home Peter entered.
There was an ember or two left in the stove, which
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 remaining, but prudence withheld him from
putting on any more.
"Everj'thing costs money," he muttered to himself.
"Three times a day I have to eat, and that costs a sight.
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 is
going to- be burnt up and float away in smoke. One
*


a miser's household.
17
might almost as well throw it into the river at once. Ugh!
only to think of 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, against
his 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 bread. With an old jack-knife he carefully cut the
loaf into two equal parts. One of these he put back into
the closet. From the same place he also brought out a
sausage, ahd placing it over the fire contrived to cook it
after a fashion. Taking it off he placed it on a plate,
and seated hhnself-on a chair by the table.
It was long since the old man, accustomed to stale
bread, — because he found it cheaper, — had tasted any-
thing so delicious. No alderman ever smacked his lips
over the most exquisite turtle soup with greater relish
than Peter Manson over his banquet.
"It is very good," he muttered, with a sigh of satisfac-
tion. "I don't fare so well every day. If it hadn't been
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 un-
satisfied hunger; "but I must save that for breakfast.* It
is hurtful to eat too much. Besides, here is my sausage."


a miser's household. 19
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.
"Hilloa!" ho 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."
"But I tell you," 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,
a little puzzled by this question.
"And what house do I think it is? Tell me that, you
old"
Probably the sentence would have been finished in a
manner uncomplimentary to Peter, but perhaps, from
motives 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."


20 . CHARLIE CODMAK'S CRUISE.
"I shouldn't think they would," muttered the outsider,
"but every rule has its exceptions, and somebody's come
to see you now."
"You've mistaken the person."
"No, I haven't. Little chance of making a mistake.
You're old Peter Manson."
"He has come to see me," thought Peter, uneasily;
"but it can't be for any good end. I won't let him in;
no, I won't let him in."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked bis
would-be visitor, impatiently.
"It's too late to see you to-night."
"Fiddlestick!" retorted the other. "It isn't eight
yet."
"I'm just going to bed," added Peter, becoming mo-
mentarily 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
poor, and can't afford to keep a fire and light going-all
the evening."
"You poor! Well, may be 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."
"Come to-morrow."
"It's no Use; I must se.e 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
the watch would come along, but it never does when it's
wanted. Go away, good man," he said, in a wheedling
tone. "Go away, and come again to-morrow."
1


a miser's household. 21
"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.


m.
THE UNWELCOME VISITOR.
Opening the door with-trenibling hand, Peter Manson
saw before him a stout man of forty-five, with a com-
plexion 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 some-
thing about him, — a certain air of the sea, that justified
the suspicion 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 you want?" inquired Peter, his alarm a
22


THE UNWELCOME VISITOR. 23
little increased by this speech, making, at the same time,
a motion as if to close the door.
"First and foremost, I should like to be invited in
somewhere, 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 pri-
vate 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 the intruder's mercy. Nevertheless, there was
something in this last speech, rough and imperative as
it was, that gave him a little feeling of security, so far
as he had been led to suspect any designs on his prop-
erty on the part of his companion.
Without venturing upon any further remonstrance,


24
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
which, it was clear, would prove altogether useless, he
shuffled up stairs, in obedience to the stranger's com-
mand, yet not without casting back over his 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 man 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."
"Poor or not," said the visitor, "you must afford to
have 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.


THE UNWELCOME VISITOR.
25
"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
increased 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
am inclined to believe, there's no one better able to
afford a good fire than you."
"No one better able !" repeated Peter, at once taking
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 hi»
3


26
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
seat, saying, uneasily, "I only wish it were true. Peo-
ple 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 gold coins. Accordingly this re-
mark, which 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?"


THE UNWELCOME VISITOR.
27
"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 per-
mitted, fixed an anxious glance upon the stranger, who
looked as if nothing particular had happened, and said
hastily, " No, I was never there. What made you ask?"
"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 Ha-
vana an American gentleman, no matter about his
name, who had established himself in business in the city.
He had married before he went there, and had a daugh-
ter about 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 ex-
pect. 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 discover-
ed that his bookkeeper had disappeared, and what was


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 be-
came 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 pet-
ulant 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 re-
sult followed, 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
carried him safely through his troubles ; but he was over-
whelmed by the blow, and sank under it. Refusing all


32
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
been smitten by the youthful charms of his employer's
daughter Eleanor, who did not favor his suit."
Peter shifted uneasily in his chair.
"No one could blame her. In fact it was perfectly
preposterous for him to think of mating with her. Did
you speak?"
- "No!" 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 small-pox, which he had had in early life. He
had a long, hooked nose like a bird's beak, an enormous
mouth, little sharp gray eyes like a ferret's, and his hair
was 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 his credit, that he was a
capital book-keeper. Of his honesty his employer thought
he was well assured, and probably if nothing had occur-
red of a character to wound Peter's pride, he might have


A STARTLING QUESTION.
33
continued faithful to his trust. One day, however, Peter
took an opportunity, when he had been calling at the
house of his employer on business connected with the
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 if it were you that
had met with this disappointment. The young lady told
him plainly, as soon as she got over her astonishment,
that she could give him no encouragement whatever.
Perhaps there might have been in her tone something of
the aversion which it was natural for her to feel at such
a proposition from one so much beneath her. If they
had married, it would have been a second case of Beauty
and the Beast. Beg pardon, Peter, I believe you said
something."
"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 sa.y, Peter, what a jolly good fellow you are, — quite
a lively companion, — only it strikes me you might be
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 in-
stant entertain his suit. He endeavored to change her
determination, being an ardent, impulsive lover, and
probably in her impatience she said something which


34
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
irritated her lover, who went off in a rage. After a
while, however, he was foolish enough to open the sub-
ject again. Of course she was extremely annoyed at his
persistence, and seeing no other way of escaping the per-
secution, she felt it necessary to acquaint her father with
what had transpired. The merchant was naturally indig-
nant 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 nothing, however, but none the less
determined within himself to be revenged upon those who
had scorned his advances, as soon as an opportunity
offered. I don't know as I blame 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
defalcation 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.


V.
THE COMPACT.
"Yes," said 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."
"You can't prove it," said Peter, with an uneasy glance
at his imperturbable companion.
'' Can'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,
regaining 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
look of remembrance satisfied the latter that he was not
forgotten.
"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 used to see you too
often about the streets of Havana not to remember that
36
/


36
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
hooked nose, those gray eyes, and (excuse my plainness
of speech) that large mouth. Yes, Peter, your features
are impressed upon my memory too indelibly to be ef-
faced."
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
profitable result. On his father's death he squandered,
in dissipation, the property which came to him, and had
since devoted himself to the sea.
"Having settled this little matter of your identity,"
continued Randall, "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 here, 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 he?" 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."
"A tenant of mine !" exclaimed the miser.
"It is even so. She occupies a second-story room in
the tenement-house in Street."


THE COMPACT.
87
"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 book-keeper?"
"Ha! ha!" chuckled the miser, hoarsety, " 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 es-
tablishment. 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 bedtime."
"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."
"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 Randall, de-
cidedly, "it won't go down. I am not so easily de-
ceived as you may imagine. I know perfectly well that
you are worth at the very least, thirty thousand dollars."
i


38
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"Thirty thousand dollars !" exclaimed the miser, rais-
ing 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 accumulating ever since. Your personal
expenses haven't made very large inroads upon your in-
come, 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 Cod-
man, 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 gold!" groaned the miser. "If I lose that I
lose everything. It will be my death. Good Mr. Ran-
dall, have pity upon me. I am sure you won't say any-
thing 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?"
"What will I give you?"
"Precisely. That is what I have been so long in
coming at. You see, Peter, that the secret is worth


THE COMPACT.
89
something. 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 gold." ,
"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."
"O yes, Peter," said the other, sarcastically, "lam
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.
"Ten dollars!" said the miser, with the air of a man
who named a large sum.
"Ten dollars!" returned Randall, with a laugh of
derision. "Ten dollars to secure the peaceable posses-
sion of thirty 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? I—I
will try to raise it, though it will be hard — very hard."
"This is mere trifling, Peter Manson," said his visitor,
decidedly. "Twenty dollars! Why I wouldn't have
come across the street to get it. No, j'ou will have to
elevate your ideas considerably."
"How much do you demand?" said the miser, groan-
ing internally, and fixing his eyes anxiously upon Randall.


42
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
"Well?"
"We happen to be in want of a boy to fill up our reg-
ular number. Suppose I kidnap Eleanor's boy. Don't
you see, that as he is her chief support, she will soon be
in difficulties? and this, with her uncertainty about her
boy's fate, may rid you of your greatest peril, and the
only one of the two who could identify you."
"Excellent, excellent!" chuckled Peter, rubbing his
hands; "she shall yet be sorry that she rejected old
Peter."
"Am I to understand that you accede to my pro-
posal, 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 Randall left the house. His
face beamed with exultation.
"I have done a good night's work," he said. "By
working on the fears of the old curmudgeon I have made
sure of a thousand dollars. He will be lucky if this is
the last 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 Codman.
Now to bed, and to-morrow shall see my work com-
menced."


44 CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
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 opposite. Yet there was a considerable difference
in the appearance of Mrs. Codman's room and that of
Sally Price, who, if she had ever possessed an organ of
neatness, had lost it years ago.
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 oppo-
site 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 centre 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 flow-
er-pot. It had been given to Charlie by an old gentle-
man who had taken a fancy to him. In another quarter
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 com-
fortable 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 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.


CHARLIE AT HOME.
45
A few books.— a very few — were piled upon the lit-
tle table. They were chiefly school-books, — an arithme-
tic, a geography and an atlas, over which Charlie -would
generally spend a portion of every evening, and occa-
sionally s boy's book, lent him by his friend Edwin
Bangs, who, together with his brother's, had quite a
large juvenile library.
Mrs. Codman is 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 im-
press on her brow, she would readily be taken .for five
years younger. She has drawn her chair to the window
to make the most of the rapidly fading daylight. As
with swift fingers she plies the glistening needle, and
the sun touches her cheek with a beaming glow, we can
see that not only has she been beautiful, but is still so.
A hasty step is heard on the stairs, there is a stamp-
ing at the door, and in rushes a bright, handsome boy,
with rosy cheeks and dark hair.
The mother's face lights up with a bright smile as she
turns to her son, the only one she has left to love.
"You're a little later than usual, Charlie, are you
not?"
"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 carpet-bag from
the Maine depot, and I had to carry it away up to Rut-
land Street."
"Did he go with you?"


46
CHARLIE CODMAH's CRUISE.
"No; he had to go to his counting-room in State
Street."
"Was he willing to trust you? Some boys might have
made off with the carpet-bag, and he would have never
seen it again."
"He thought of that, but he said—and I think he's a
real gentleman — that he knew I was honest by my ap-
pearance, and he was willing to trust me."
"Quite complimentary, Charlie. How much did he
pay you 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 Rut-
land 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 would take 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 here long, and what
my name was. He told me he would pay me if I would
go around 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.


CHARLIE AT HOME.
47
"' Never mind about them,' said he,' I will take them
off your hands.'
"' But they are alike,' said I.
"' Never mind,' he answered ; so he 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 other gentleman. There was
something about his eye which I didn't like. Still he
acted up to his agreement, and paid me all he promised."
"How long were you together?"
"About an hour and a half. We walked round the
Common and the Public Garden, went into the State
House and the Public Library. However, he didn't seem
to care much about them. He seemed to take more
interest in me, some how, and asked mS a good many
questions; whether I had any parents living, and how
long I had 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 Qnincy 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 gla,d to have you do
so, as I am in a hurry to finish my sewing.


48
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CUUISE.
In the evening Charlie
sewed. Neither of them
last evening they, would
months.
read to his mother while she
suspected that it was the
spend together for several


CAPTAIN BRACE.
51
undoubtedly been a great improvement within a few
years.
'Without dwelling further on the personal characteris-
tics of Captain Brace, with whom we shall have abun-
dant opportunity to become acquainted, since we pur-
pose going to sea 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. Randall? has he come on board?" he
inquired, turning to the second mate.
"No, sir; I have not seen him this morning," was
the reply.
"WTien he comes on board tell him I wish to see him
immediately."
"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 fear-
ful apprehensions in the mind of old Peter Manson the
miser.
"Where is Captain Brace, Mr. Bigelow?" he in-
quired 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
convenience. How long since did he ask for me?"
"Only two or three minutes. He has just gone
below."
"Then he hasn't had long to wait."
With these words he. hastened to the cabin, where he
found the captain waiting for him.


52
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
The subject on which the captain wished to see his
first mate was purely of a professional and technical
character, and will not be likely to interest the reader,
and so will be passed over.
When this preliminary matter was disposed of, Ean-
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
severity and"
The captain's brow grew dark with anger, as he said:
"The young rascal! I should like to overhaul him!
I'd show him what it is to see service!"
There is very little doubt that the captain would have
kept his word.
Randall 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 mo-
tives of humanity, 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 we 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 boy we
have missed of."
"Humph!" said the captain, "there is one objection
I have to taking relations of the officers. You are ex-


CAPTAIN BRACE.
53
pected to be tender of 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
extraordinary 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 Randall, with a
smile which evinced a thorough understanding of the
captain's meaning; "the fact is, the boy is unruly, and
they can't 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 Ms health!"
The mate smiled, and as it was such a joke as the
captain could appreciate, he smiled too.
"Very well, Mr. Randall; if such are your views I
have no objection to his coming on board."
"I had fears," continued the mate, "that his unruly
temper 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 Randall, 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
5*


54
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
when he is down 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.
Randall?''
"Jack Randall; 'named after me."
"Humph ! hope he'll do credit to the name," said the
captain, grimly. "I leave in your hands all the steps
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."
"Very well, sir."
Of course the reader has conjectured that the Jack
Randall, the mate's nephew, spoken of above, is no oth-
er than our young hero, Charlie Codman.
Poor boy! little does he dream of the plot that is be-
ing formed against him.


vni.
THE BLUE CHEST.
On leaving the Bouncing Betsy, Mr. John Randall,
the estimable mate of that vessel, bent his steps towards
a shop devoted to sailors' clothing ready-made, with a
large variety of other articles such as seamen are accus-
tomed to require.
It was a shop of .very good dimensions, but low stud-
ded 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 Jew, with a countenance clearly indicating his
Israelitish descent. His small black eyes sparkled with
the greed of gain, and he had a long, hooked nose like
the beak of a bird, which would not have been considered
too small an appendage for a face of twice the size. 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;
"perhaps I ought to say Captain Randall."
"Not yet."
% "Ah -well, that will come soon. I hope you have had
a prosperous voyage."
65


THE BLUE CHEST.
57
"Ah ha!" said the Jewish dealer, putting one scraggy
finger to the side of his nose with a knowing look; " 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—i—"
"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 made out for the other articles,
and I will discharge it."
With a profusion of bows and thanks, the trader dis-
missed 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
friendly manner.
"Yes, sir."
"I am glad to find you punctual. Are you ready to
set out?"
"Yes, sir, quite ready."
Rather to keep up the boy's delusion as to his designs,


58
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
Randall 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 lying at
the wharf, and I have just thought of a bundle I want
brought from the ship. 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 at the wharf, he had never
been in company with an officer, and he thought it possi-
ble his companion might be willing to explain to him the
use of some parts which he did not yet understand. Ac-
cordingly he gave a ready assent to the mate's proposi-
tion, and together they took their way to Long 'Wharf, at
which the ship was lying.
The shop kept by the Jew was, as a matter of con-
venience and policy, located near the wharves. It was
not a general clothing-store, but specially designed to
supply seamen with outfits.
"I have a little errand here," said Randall, pausing
before the shop of Moses Mellen.
"I can stop outside," said Charlie.
"You had better come in. You will see where we
sailors get our clothing."


THE BLUE CHEST.
59
Not suspecting any sinister design in this invitation,
Charlie accepted it without more ado, and followed Ran-
dall in. He looked ahout him with some curiosity, not
observing that he too was an object of attention to the
Jewish dealer, whose quick eye detected their entrance.
He went forward to meet Randall.
"You see the boy, do you?" asked the mate, in a low
voice.
"Is that the one?"
"Yes. Do you think you will be able to fit him?"
"No doubt about it, 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
important on the quarter-deck as it might be on Wash-
ington Street. We are not fashionable on board the
Betsy, Mr. Mellen."
The dealer laughed, showing some yellowish tusks,
which were evidently not supplied by the dentist.
"Have you made out my bill?"
"Here it is." ■
"While I am looking over it, will you pick out such
clothes as the boy will need?"
Darting a hasty glance at Charlie, to make sure of his
size, the dealer hurried to the rear of the shop, and com-
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 Randall.
"You have been quick. Here is the amount of your


60
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 our shop when you are round
again?"
"I won't forget you."
"You needn't accompany me to the door, nor allude
to my voyage," said Randall, in a low voice, to the
dealer. "Remember, I have him with me."
Moses winked in a manner which by no means im-
proved the expression of his not very agreeable features.
"Now, my lad," said Randall, "we'll go on board the
vessel. Have you ever been on board a ship?"
"Yes, sir, 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
signflcance was lost upon our hero at the time, though
he afterwards 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.


IX.
ON BOARD.
•
At the close of the last chapter we had got our hero
fairly on board the Bouncing Betsey, on what he sup-
posed to be a brief visit, but which his companion had
resolved should be far otherwise.
Randall did not at first undeceive his youthful attend,
ant. He felt that it would hardly be polite, as the ship
was lying at the wharf surrounded by other vessels, and
the disturbance and vigorous resistance which Charlie
would be apt to make when told what was in store for
him might attract a degree of attention which might
prove fatal'to his plans. m
They had scarcely set their feet upon deck, when they
encountered Capt. Brace.
The mate glanced significantly at the boy by his side,
and carelessly put his finger to his lips in token of si-
lence, at the same time saying, "A lad whom I have
promised to initiate into some of the mysteries of sea-
manship."
"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 Charlie, promptly, "I don't
think I should."


62
CHARLIE CODMAH'S CRUISE.
"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 Ran-
dall, "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.
"The. captain seems to be a very nice man," said he
to Randall, after that officer had left them.
"Oh, yes," answered Randall, dryly, "a very fine
man 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."
"D<»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 ver}' 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," added our young
hero. .


ON BOARD.
63
“I know it,” muttered Randall to himself, as the
handsome face and manly form of the father rose before
him. They were imprinted more vividly upon his mem-
ory, because 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 you something about the vessel. I suppose you
know the names of the masts."
66 Yes, sir.”
6 What do they call this?”
-66 This is the main-mast," answered Charlie, promptly,
" and the others are called the foremast and mizzen-
mast.”
“ 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 Randall, playing with him as a cat plays with a
mouse.
66 I don't believe I could. It would make me dizzy."
6. You could do better than you think for, if you were
obliged to.”.
6. 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."
66 Wer'n't you afraid ?”
“I suppose I was, but that didn't do any good, - I
had to go.”


CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
..6Why 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 Ran-
dall, “ 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.
6. The captain seems to be a very nice man,” said he
to Randall, after that officer had left them. .
"Oh, yes,” answered Randall, dryly, “ a very fine
man 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.”
6. Do you like it?”
6 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 ?”
so I was about sixteen. How old are you?”
66 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,” added our young
hero. .


ON BOARD.
63
"I know it,'' muttered Randall to himself, as the
haudsome face and manly form of the father rose before
him. They were imprinted more vividly upon his mem-
ory, because 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 you something about the vessel. I suppose you
know the names of the masts."
"Yes, sir."
"What do they call this?"
"This is the main-mast," answered Charlie, promptly,
"and the others are called the foremast and mizzen-'
mast."
"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 Randall, 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."
"Wer'n't you afraid?"
"I suppose I was, but that didn't do any good, — I
had to go."


64
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"Wer'n'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."
"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 assist-
ance 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'Randall 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 him, observed one
making a significant gesture to another, which evidently
referred to them.
Our young hero mentally thought this not very polite,
but did not pay much attention to it.
About this time a porter arrived from the clothing-
store already referred to, bringing a small blue chest.
"This is the ship Bouncing Betsey, isn't it?" he
inquired.
"Yes," answered one of the sailors.
"I was told to bring this chest here, then."


ON BOARD.
65
"Who is it for?"
"Jack Randall."
"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."
"There ain't two ships of this name, are there?"
"Not'as I ever heerd tell."
"Then this must be 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,
pointing^* Charlie.
"He tffnks you're my nephew," said Randall, smil-
ing. "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. No, you may carry it below.


66 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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.
"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 was about as large as yon. Yes,
come to think of it, I don't believe there can be any .
diffecence 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 oppo-
site 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. Ac-
cordingly he went below, and was soon dressed in full
sailor rig. It was a very good fit, and very becoming
to our hero, who was a remarkably handsome boy.
"A good fit, is4t not?" asked the mate.
"Excellent," said^Charlie.
"One would almost think the clothes were meant for
you," said Randall, with a smile, which Charlie did not
understand.


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 professionally. 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 the shoulder of our young hero.
"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 Randall,
composedly; " those you have on are your own."
"What do you mean?" asked. Charlie, meeting the
mate's triumphant look with an open, manly glance.
"I mean," said Randall, with a sardonic look, " that
the clothes were bought for the one who now wears
them,""
67


68 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"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 there 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 whip-
hand 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."
"What good will that do?" said Charlie. "I'm not
going to remain on board."
"You're not, eh?" said the mate, significantly.


CHARLIE IN A TIGHT PLACE. 69
"No," said Charlie, boldly.
"Suppose I say you shall."
"Then," said Charlie, firmly, "I say you are mis-
taken."
Our hero was a boy of spirit, and had no idea of being
disposed of without his' own consent. 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 shoul-
der. "Haven't I told you to keep those clothes on?"
"You have no right to interfere with me," said Char-
lie, 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, as, 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 towards our hero with the intention of binding
him.
Charlie sprang for the stairs, and was half way up
before the mate caught him and dragged him back.
"Well, boy, you're a pretty tough customer — true
grit. 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


70
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 rue?" 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 Randall,
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 Randall, 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 superior 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 attention from outside.*
"That's your game, is it?" saidt he mate. "We'll
soon 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.


CHARLIE IN A TIGHT PLACE.
71
Feeling now secure, he left Charlie mute and helpless,
and ascended to the deck.
"What was the noise I heard below, Mr. Randall?"
asked the captain, pausing in his walk, and addressing
his first officer.
"My nephew !" said Eandall, 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, per-
haps, Mr. Randall."
The mate smiled approval of this jest, and as his ser-
vices were now in requisition to expedite preparations for
departure, he left the captain and went about his duty.
Meanwhile the mate's conduct had not been unobserved
by the crew. Among these was an old sailor who re-
joiced 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. Proba-
7 ly there were no two men on board the ship who would
ot have felt some hesitation in attacking Bill Sturdy.


XI.
OFF TO* SEA.
The thoughts of our young hero as he lay helpless,
gagged and bound, were hardly of the most cheerful
character. The blow had been so sudden, that he was
quite unprepared for it. Added to this, his apprehen-
sions were vague and indefinite. There seemed some-
thing mysterious 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 com-
prehended in its full extent may be boldly faced, how-
ever 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 in-
tention of Randall to cany 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 circum-
stances, and if the arrangement had been of his own free
choice, it is quite possible that he might have looked
forward with pleasurable anticipations to the life that
awaited him. But there was one thought uppermost in
7 73


74 CHAELIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
his mind that gave him no little pain and anxiety, the
thought of his mother. He was her all. In the large
and busy city she knew but very few; she had none
whom she could call friends. Her hopes were all cen-
tred in him. Still farther, 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 wo-
men are few, and toil at the needle is so unsatisfactorily
compensated 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
suffer 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 he should be unable to obtain any clew to
her whereabouts. This was indeed a terrible thought to
poor Charlie, who chafed like a caged lion in his con-
finement. 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
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


OFF TO SEA.
75
misfortunes, watching him with great apparent enjoy-
ment. ,
"Ah, Jack," he said, "I see you are hard at work.
Work away. If you untie those knots you've got more
skilful fingers than the one that tied them, that's all."
"Come and release me," said Charlie. "You have
no right 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.
"Hie 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 feeling of dislike than he had supposed himself
capable of feeling. Hitherto he had only been accus-
tomed to an atmosphere of affection, and though he had
met with some rebuffs in his daily search for employ-
ment, he could always return at night to a home and a
mother, with whom he could forget whatever had been
disagreeable during the day. Now his position was en-
tirely changed. The only one he knew on board the
vessel was one whom he had no reason to believe friend-
ly, but very much the reverse.
By this time the noise upon deck, which he could hear
plainly, had become greater and greater. He could hear


OFF TO SEA.
77
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.
"Hallo, my lad," was the salutation of the new-comer,
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, the stout sailor to whom
reference has already been made. Whatever may be
thought of physiognomy as an index of character, it is
undeniable that we are either attracted to or repelled
from certain faces.
Now 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
instinctive confidence.
"That I will, my lad," exclaimed Bill, with hearty
emphasis; "but tell me who tied you up in this
fashion?"
"His name is Randall, and I believe he is the mate."
"The lubberly rascal! And what did he 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 practised
upon him, which Bill Sturdy denounced in good set'
terms, though possibly more strong than refined.
"He's a rascal; there ain't a doubt of that," said Bill.
"I should like to overhaul him, and teach him better
7*


78
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRTIISE.
manners. As for you, my lad, I'm sorry for you.
You've shipped for the v'y'ge, 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 our hero, feeling more cheerful
and hopeful. It was something to have one friend on
board.
"I mistrust there are some rascals aboard," mut-
tered 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.


80
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
and friends and relations. I care for nothing but
you."
While Peter was indulging in this soliloquy, he was
engaged in counting the coins in the box.
The result of the count showed one less than he had
anticipated.
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 of him. This, however, was
unnecessary, since, deprived of Charlie's earnings, his
mother would have found it impossible to pay the rent
previously demanded.
Peter Manson resolved to call upon his tenant in
person. 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,


LANDLOKD AND TENANT.
81
this had already been tested; for Peter had already
called several times "on the same errand, without at-
tracting a glance which could he construed into recog-
nition.
It was the morning after Charlie had disappeared.
He had been absent twenty-four hours, and his mother
had heard nothing of him. She was in a terrible state
of apprehension and anxiety, for few boys were more
regular than he in repairing 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,
exhausted by her vigils, she sank upon the bed, but not
to sleep. In the morning she rose, unrefreshed, to pre-
pare her solitary meal. But it was in vain. Sorrow
and anxiety had taken away her appetite, and she was
unable to eat anything.
Soon afterwards a knock was heard at the door. She
hastened to open it, hoping to hear some tidings of her
lost boy. What was her disappointment to meet the
bent form and-wrimkled face of Peter Manson, her land-
lord.
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, after intimating that it was very


82
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
small, avowed his determination to raise the rent to
two dollars per week.
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. Cod-
man'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 Char-
lie would come back, 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.
Life without Charlie would be so full of sadness, that
she could not believe him lost.
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 towards her. There afre none whom the
wicked hate so heartily as those whom they have
injured. That is something beyond forgiveness.
Mrs. Codman knew that Peter Manson was avari-
cious, and to this she attributed the increase in the
rent. She had no suspicion that he had a particular
object in distressing her.
"Surely, Mr. Manson," she remonstrated, "you do
not think these rooms worth two dollars a week. It is
all we are able to do to raise the rent we now pay."
"Humph!" muttered Peter, avoiding the eye of his
tenant, "they are worth all I can get for them."


LANDLORD AND TENANT.
83
"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 sympathize 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 building."
"Yet I—I am poor," persisted Peter. "I am only
an agent. I—I do not own this 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 her bureau, and found that she had be-
tween 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.
"Yes; you have probably seen him here sometimes."
"I haven't noticed him."
"I am feeling very anxious about him. Yesterday


84 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
morning he went out on an errand for some one who
had engaged 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. Cod-
man, 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
inwardly 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
Peter. "He is about a dozen years old, isn't he?"
"Yes; but you don't—you can't think him drowned."
"How should I know?" muttered Peter. "Boys are
careless, 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. "Charlie was not careless, and never went to play
on the wharf."
The old man was disappointed to find that his blow
had failed of its effect, but ingenious in devising new
methods of torture, he now suggested the tne cause of
Charlie's absence.
"Perhaps," he said, with his cruel gray eyes fixed


LANDLORD AND TENANT.
85
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.
"WJiat do you mean?" exclaimed the mother, with
startling emphasis, half advancing towards the old man.
"You—you shouldn't be so violent," said Peter,
trembling, 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.
"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 any-
thing except this utter uncertainty."
She looked up earnestly in the old man's face.
Peter was somewhat amused at the idea that he might
be afraid to distress her, but decided, on reflection, to
tell her all that he chose she should be made acquainted
with.
8


86
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"Sometimes," he explained, " a captain is short of
hands, and fills out his number the best way he can.
Now perhaps one of the ships at the wharves might
have wanted a boy, and the captain might have invited
your son on board, and, ha, ha! it almost makes me
laugh to think of it, might carry 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 thought he
would be so much surprised when he found out where he
was."
"And does that seem to you a fitting subject for
merriment?" demanded the outraged mother.
The miser cowed beneath her indignant glance, and
muttering 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 the way when—when she rejected me. But
I shall have my revenge yet."
Strange to say, Peter's last suggestion produced an
effect quite different from that which he anticipated and
intended. 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."


xin.
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE.
Small as was the remuneration which Mrs. Codman
received 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 neces-
sary 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
87


CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 89
So it proved with Mrs. Codman. •
On reaching 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 washer-woman, who roomed just above, entered.
"How do you do, Mrs. O'Grady?" said Mrs. Codman.
"I am very well, Miss Codman, and I hope it's the
same wid j'erself. Have you heard anything of the
swate boy that was lost?"
"Nothing," was the sad reply.
"Cheer up, then, Miss 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 ye 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.
O'Grady, indignantly. "He wants to squeeze the last
cint out of us poor folks, and it don't do him any good
neither. I'd be ashamed if Mr. O'Grady wint about
dressed as he does. But may be, Miss Codman, 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.


CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"I'll tell ye, only jist sit down, for it may take me
some time."
This was Mrs. O'Gracty's explanation, which it may
be better to abridge, for the good lady was wont to be
somewhat prolix and discursive in her narratives.
It seems she 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. The only child arising from
this union was 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 willing to apply herself to study.
Mr. Bowman was now looking out for a suitable gov-
erness 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 refinement 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 washer-woman
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 op-
pressed with business cares that he did not know how to
spare the time necessary to seek out a governess. He
accordingly summoned Mrs. O'Grady to a conference,


XIV.
BEET.
In the breakfast-room of a house on Mt. Vernon
Street sat two persons with whom it is necessary that
we should become acquainted.
The first is a gentleman of perhaps forty-fiVe, rather
stout, and with a pleasant expression of countenance.
He has finished his cup of coffee, and taken up the
morning paper, which he scans carefully, more especially
those parts relating to business.
At the opposite side of the table is a young lady of
ten, with mirthful black eyes, and very red cheeks,
which are well set off by her black hair. Altogether,
she is very handsome, a fact of which she is not alto-
gether unconscious. She is lively, fresh, original, and
impulsive, not under very much restraint, but with an
excellent disposition and kindly feelings, which do not
allow her to go very far wrong. Yet it must be con-
fessed that thus far her education has been sadly neg-
lected, so that, as far as learning goes, she probably
knows less than most girls two years younger.
The room, in which the father and daughter were
seated, is tastefully furnished with that regard to com-
fort which is found in our American houses.
The two whom we have thus introduced are Benja-
02


BERT. 93
min Bowman, a wealthy merchant, and his daughter
Bertha, though, in that shortening of names which is
apt to take place in a family, hers has been shortened to
Bert, which she appears 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
acquiescence.
"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,"
said 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, papa, that is a slander. I will sue you for
libel."
"On your own account, or the kitten's?" asked Mr.
Bowman. "I really don't know which I have done
injustice to."
"Now you are laughing at me, papa. I knew you
are."
"Not entirely, Bert. The fact is, you are terribly
ignorant for one of your age."
I


94
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"I suppose I am," said Bert, shaking her head in
comic despair.
"You'll grow up with no more knowledge than a
Hottentot."
'' 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
something 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 Jam 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
eha'n't like her."
"Well, and what fault do you find with Julia Camp-
bell's governess?" asked Mr. Bowman, with more inter-
est than his tone conveyed; for he' knew that if Bert
did not fancy her governess she would be a .most in-
corrigible little rebel, and would be likely to profit very
little by her instructions.
"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 myself."


96 CHARLIE CODMAN's^ CRUISB.
If I like her, I will make a sign to j'ou, 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 afterwards, you know, and she
would feel flattered, knowing it was a sign that I liked
her."
"She might not think it very lady-like in you."
"What's the use of being lady-like? I don't want to
be. There's Florence Gates; I suppose she's lady-like.
I'll show you how she walks."
Bert imitated the gait of the young lady, swaying
herself 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,"
exclaimed Bert. "She would think it beneath her dig-
nity. If she is lady-like, I don't want to be. But,
hark! there goes the bell. She's coming. Now, papa,
just remember, I shall wink if I like her, and if I don't
I'll make up a face."
Bert transferred herself to an ottoman, and took
Topsy into her lap.
Both she and her father looked towards the door with
curiosity.


XV.
MRS. CODMAN'S GOOD FORTUNE.
Mrs. Codman had been carefully educated at a large
expense, and was versed in all the accomplishments
'which are considered indispensable in a young lady's
education nowadays. It was with no degree of hesita-
tion on this point, therefore, that she set out this par-
ticular morning to present herself as an applicant for
the post of governess. Having no influential friends,
however, and not being able to present references from
a former employer (this being her first essay in this
line), she feared that her application would be unsuc-
cessful. 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 admit, and with hearty good wishes and many
glowing predictions of success from her humble friend,
Mrs. O'Grady, she set out.
Though some years past thirty, Mrs. Codman so far
retained the freshness of youth, that she would hardly
have been taken for this age. As a girl she had been
very beautiful, and her womanhood did not belie her
early promise. Her attire, though not expensive, was
9 97


MRS. CODMAX'S GOOD FORTUNE.
99
In reply, Bert winked once more.
There was a piano in the room.
"Will you favor, us with a specimen of your play-
ing?" asked Mr. Bowman.
Mrs. Codman sat clown to 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 ser-
vices. 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 litle addicted
to mischief, and I dont know how you may like her."
"I am quite willing to enter into such an arrange-
ment," 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 her hand with a
smile.
. Bert hurried across the room, and placed her own in
it confidingly. .
"I am so 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,
looking at Bert's bright eyes, sparkling with fun and
mischief.
Mr. Bowman observed these signs of agreement be-
tween Bert and her new governess with pleasure, and


100
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CKUISE.
hastened to say, "In regard to business arrangements
we will speak by and by. I think I can promise that
they will be satisfactory 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 pocket-book a fifty-dollar note, which
he handed to Mrs. Codman. She could not feel any
embarrassment in accepting a sum so tendered, and
bowing her thanks, intimated that she would make her
appearance on the following Monday, it being now
Thursday.
The advance payment proved very acceptable to Mrs.
Codman, as with it she was enabled to replenish her
'wardrobe, a step rendered necessary by her residence in
Mr. Bowman's family. She was busily engaged for the
remainder of the week in supplying its deficiencies.
No one could be more overjoyed than was the humble
washer-woman 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 heat dress, which
Mrs. O'Grady was prevailed upon to accept, on being
convinced she would not thereby be distressing herself,


102
CnARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
rifice. 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
fortnight after her removal to the house of Mr. Bow-
man. Peter Manson was not a little surprised and dis-
appointed when, on visiting his tenant, — prepared to wit-
ness her distress and hear entreaties for a reduction of
her rent, — to find her already gone, and to hear that she
had obtained an advantageous situation, though where,
he was unable to ascertain, as Mrs. O'Grady, with whom
he was no favorite, was not disposed to be com-
municative.
Leaving Mrs. Codman thus comfortably provided for,
we must now follow the fortunes of our young hero,
Charlie, whom we left securely bound in the forecastle
of the Bouncing Betsy.


XVI.
THE BEGINNING OF CHARLIE's SEA-LIFE.
When the Bouncing Betsy was fairly out to sea, Cap-
tain Brace, anticipating, with the malicious delight
which a petty tyrant feels in the sufferings of those sub-
ject to him, the grief and terror of our young hero,
ordered Charlie to be released from his bonds and
brought before him.
This order the mate chose to execute in person.
The pressure of the cords, with which he had been
bound, had chafed his limbs, and the constraint of his
position 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 Capt. Brace would consent."
103


THE BEGINNING OF CHARLIE'S SEA-LIFK. 105
"Yes, sir," said our hero.
"Take care that you remember it then. Your name,
henceforth, is Jack Randall, — 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 —;—"
We suppress the word with which the captain closed
his sentence, not being willing to soil our pages with it.
This was rather a hard trial for our young hero,
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
determined to persecute him.
He was set to work by Randall, who told him, in a
sharp tone, to " mind his eye, and keep to work, if he
knew what was best for himself."
The work was not difficult, but Charlie's fingers were
unpractised, and he might very soon have incurred the


106
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
wrath of the captain and mate, if Bill Sturdy, the
sailor whose friendly advances to our hero have already
been noticed, had not approached 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, low-
ering his voice, "and it's my opinion they're well
matched, so far as villany goes."
"What made 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.
I 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 jtou ship along
of me?' I asked him where he was bound, and he
telled me to Valparaiso, 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. Be-
sides, I'd got tired of going to Calcutta. I've been
there, man and boy, six or eight times. It's too hot to
live there some parts of the year. So I just told him I
was in for 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,


'THE BEGINNING OF CHARLIe's SEA-LIFE. 107
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 he was drunk, he
got' into a regular fury. He would tear round 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
interest into the weather-beaten face of the old sailor.
"I'll tell you," said Sturdy; "you see, I'm pretty
strong," glancing at his brawny arms and Herculean
frame with pardonable complacency; "I don't often
meet a man I can't manage as easily as the mate can
manage you. Now the captain wasn't a large man, by
any means, nor very 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 expected, 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 en-
joyed it, and wouldn't a man of 'em tell; and as the


108
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
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
felled an ox. "No, my lad, these are what I call my
sledge hammers, and I'd as lives 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 our
hero had discharged his task in a manner which did not
admit of censure.


XVII.
TEE 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 continues till midnight. This watch
is then relieved by the second, who have had an oppor-
tunity of sleeping in the mean time, 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
sleep, while the remainder have but four. This inequal-
ity, however, is remedied the next evening, when the
hours are changed.
Charlie was fortunate in one respect. He was placed
on the same watch with Bill Sturdy, who had established
himself, in some sort, as the boy's protector, arid did not
scruple to avow it. When some of the crew began to
tease and play rough practical jokes upon Charliei — a
mode of treatment to which boys are frequently sub-
jected on board ship,—Bill Sturdy interfered, and in a
sonorous voice exclaimed, —
"Look here, shipmates, don't lay a finger on this
boy!"
10 109


110 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"And why not?" inquired a burly sailor, with nat-
urally repulsive features.
"Because I say so," retorted Bill Sturdy.
"'Who is he, I should like to know, that we are to
keep our distance?"
"I'll tell you who he is, shipmates," was the answer.
"lie's a boy 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 boy. She doesn't know what has become
of him. Now, shipmates,- he seems to be 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
exception was the scowling sailor who has already be6n
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 crow, taking advantage of his
personal strength. Now 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 contest, the odds would be decidedly in favor
of Bill. Antonio, for this was his name, for he was a
Spaniard by birth, could not help seeing the changed
state of affairs. Now no one likes to be eclipsed, and


THE RIVAL CHAMPIONS.
Ill
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 hold-
ing the second place, where the first had been his. But
how could he help it? Very evidently the opinions 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
because 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 opportunity to measure his strength with
him. Antonio did not see, what was evident to all else,
that his rival was undeniably his superior in prowess.
People are generally slow to admit their own inferior-
ty. That is only natural. He hoped, therefore, that
he should be able to re-establish his supremacy by com-
ing off a conqueror in the contest which he had deter-
mined to do all in his power to bring about.
Antonio's attention had not been especially called to
our hero, 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.
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 sur-
rounded him, and growled,—


THE UIVAL CHAMPIONS.
113
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 precipi-
tated 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, parry-
ing his blows with wonderful dexterity, and succeeding
in planting 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 antag-
onist. 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
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 marline spike at a
little distance, sprang towards it. It was a critical
moment for Bill Sturdy, for a marline spike, in the
hands of a furious and determined man, is a formidable
weapon.
His movement did not escape the notice of Sturdy.
He 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
10*


114
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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.


xvin.
antonio's resolve.
"What has been going on?" askedRandall, perceiv-
ing, from the position of the sailors and their looks-,
that something had happened. What it was, he sur-
mised, 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. Eandall," 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 tone.
"What was the fight about?" inquired Eandall, who,
in ordinary cases, would not have cared to pursue the
subject farther, but had an undefined idea that it was in
some way connected with our hero, for whom he felt no
peculiar affection.'
"The fact is," said Bill Sturdy, "Antonio undertook
115


116 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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."
Raildall was placed in an awkward predicament. He
could not deny that Charlie was his nephew after his
express 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
undertone, that the boy must fight his own battles, and
disappeared from the deck.
"Fight his own battles!" repeated Sturdy, indig-
nantly. "A pretty sort of an uncle he is, to match a
boy of fourteen 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 to -spile a decent lad."
"Ay, that it would."
Presently Antonio came on deck with a sullen air,
half of defiance, half of humiliation, at his recent
defeat. He smarted under the conviction, that hence-


Antonio's resolve.
117
forth his authority 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 feeling 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 off second best. That had
been a Waterloo day to him, and he knew that he re-
turned 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 oppor-
tunity should present itself for an effectual and safe
revenge.
Accordingly he suddenly recovered from his sullen-
ness, and made some half advances towards 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 together. "There's something in his eye
that I don't like; a sort of deceitful gleam, as if there
was something covered up that he didn't like to show.
For my part, I like to be fair and above board, and
show just what I am."


118
CHAELIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"I'm sorry you have made an enemy of this man on
my account," said Charlie.
"Avast, my lad, do you think I was going to stand
still and let him abuse you? Thank heaven, old Bill
Sturdy isn't such a lubber as that."
"But he may do you a mischief yet, Bill."
"Let him come within the reach of my arm," said
BO, swinging his brawny right arm as he would a flail,
"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
foreigner 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
person, 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
conversation between the two. He remained very quiet,
fearing, doubtless, that he should be observed. Evi-
dently what he heard did not affect him pleasantly.
His brow contracted, and a scowl of hatred made his
features look even more dark and forbidding than was
their 'wont, especially 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 con-
cealment, and made his way to his bunk in the fore-
castle. "We shall see, we shall see. No man shall


Antonio's eesolve.
119
insult and triumph over me without repenting of it. He
shall know, some time, what it is to excite the vengeance
of a desperate man. He thinks the lion has become a
lamb. He will, find out his mistake."
Antonio might more appropriately have compared
himself to a serpent, for his character had more of
the subtlety of the noxious reptile than of the boldness
and freedom of the monarch of the forest.
Unconscious of the concealed listener to their dis-
course, Bill Sturdy and our young friend continued
their conversation. In the hours 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, 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 minute."
Bill leaned over the rail in silent expectation.


XIX.
Charlie's land tarn.
Charlie deliberated a moment, when he chanced to
think of Nicholas Nickleby, the only one of Dickens's
works he had ever read, and which, as it had interested
him exceedingly, had impressed itself upon his remem-
brance.
"Did you ever hear of Nicholas Nickleby, Bill?" he
inquired.
"Yes," was Bill's unexpected response; "when I
was at Liverpool three years ago, she was lying along-
side 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
importance to the present occasion, he passed it by, and
120


chaelie's land tarn.
123
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, here?'
"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, besides, she had no idea that
a poor, under-paid teacher would think of refusing her,
the"
'" 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
away."
"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. Squeers 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


124
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
cuffed, and made to drudge so constantly, that it would
hare 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 back, 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 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 Nicho-
las; '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."
"Good!" exclaimed Bill, who had become much in-
terested in the narrative. "I hope he made him scream
for mercy."
"So he did, and Nicholas kept on belaboring him,
notwithstanding 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


Charlie's land tarn.
125
delight, at the school-master's discomfiture. "What hap-
pened next?"
"Nicholas packed up his clothes and left the house,
but took care to carry Smike with him, knowing that he
would otherwise fare badly."
"And what became of Nicholas afterwards? Did he
reach port?"
"He met with a variety of adventures, but at length
became rich and happy."
"That's a pretty good yarn," said Bill Sturdy. "I
should have liked to help him whip the school-master,
though."
"Now, Bill, I am ready to hear your yarn," said
Charlie.
u*


XX.
BILL STTTRDY'S STOET.
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. The Peregrine 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, unfortu-
nately, this wasn't always the case. However, he 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,
120


BILL STURDT'S STORY.
127
as it happened, 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 Mm all the better, be-
cause 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 bloodshot. He staggered
up to us, gave me a blow side of the head, as he said,
or rather hiccoughed, 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 pa-
tiently; 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 any-
thing, but answered, 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
charge. It was as well that I didn't, for he waited a
minute and then left me.
"Well, this was the first that any of us knew of the
captain's habits. We were all sorry, even those that
liked to drink themselves, for this was the only fault we


128 CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
could detect in our chief officer, and it was a pretty
serious one, as it turned out. I told your 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 cap-
tain 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
staunch craft when we started, and bade fair to see a
great many years' service. So, on the whole, we didn't
feel uneasy 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 stag-
gered up to the mate, and asked him how fast the ship
was going.
"The mate reported, ten knots an hour.
"' Ten knots an hour!' repeated the captain, con-
temptuously. 'Is that all? We must go faster.'
"' But, Captain Harvey,' said the mate, 'there is a
violent gale. Do you think it prudent to increase our
speed?' »
"' Prudent!' thundered the captain, 'do you think
I would give the order if I didn't think so? Not a
word more, sir, but call all hands, and make sail.'
"Nothing was to be done but to obey.


BILL STURDy's STORY.
129
"Accordingly the reefs were let out of the topsails,,
the top gallant sails set, and even the fore top-mast
studding sail. Now, my lad, although you are not
much of a sailor, you can understand that it was per-
fect madness to carry so much sail in such a tempest.
I knew at once what would happen, and prepared for
the worst. There was a hen-coop 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 intem-
perance 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 strained severely and leaking badly. Well, the end
of it was, that we had to abandon her. The rest of the
crew got on board the boats, but there wasn't fairly
room, and they were so overloaded that I thought it
would be safer trusting to the old hen-coop. They tried
to get me on board the boats, but I had a kind of sus-
picion that the boats wouldn't live. So I stuffed all my
pockets with biscuit, filled a tin measure with water,
and trusted myself to the hen-coop."
"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.


130
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"Well, my lad, it wasn't the pleasantest thing pitch-
ing about on a hen-coop 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 provision 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 hen-
coop 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 de-
Scried one apparently making towards mo."
"Wer'n't you delighted?"
"I was at first," said Bill, "but as she came nearer
I tried not to attract her notice."
"Why?" asked Charlie, in great surprise.
"Because, my lad, I recognized in her the Red Rover,
one of the most noted pirates that cruised in those seas."


XXI.
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 messmate 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 frightened her away.
"As soon as I made out the approaching vessel to be
the Red Hover, 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.
131


132
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"' How long since?'
"' About twenty-four hours.'
"' How did it happen?'
"In reply, I 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 hen-coop, 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 pitching
about on a hen-coop for twenty-four hours.
"Now that I had a chance, I looked at the men that
manned the boat. They were villanous-looking cut-
throats,— mostly Spaniards, with dark, lowering faces
and forbidding expressions. I couldn't belp 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 ques-
tions 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.
133
'"I do,' said I, coolly, though I didn't feel as cool as
I. appeared.
"'Ha!' he exclaimed, in surprise. 'What is it?'
'" It is the Red Rover,' said I, making believe to be
unconcerned.
'"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 hen-coop, 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 under-
stand, 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 believe she has made something of a reputation for
'herself,' he added, proudly.
"I bowed.
"' Now I have a proposal to make to you. We're
rather short-handed. We need two or three brave fel-
lows, and I am inclined to think, from your bearing,
12


136
CnARLIE codman's cruise.
did. I knew some of those on board very well, and the
captain was an old school-mate of mine.
"' What would they think,' I couldn't help saying to
myself, with a groan, 'if they knew their old messmate
was regularly enrolled among the crew of the pirate
that is overhauling them?'"


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
slight interest.
"I was taken all aback," he continued, "when I
found it was the Sally Ann I was expected to join hands
with the pirates against. I couldn't help thinking of
the many pleasant hours I had spent on board that ves-
sel, 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 good share of the spoils. If you don't, or
if you prove false to us, you know your fate.'
"He pointed up to the yard-arm, as much as to say
12* 137


138
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
that I should be. Strang up, if I refused obedience, and
I've no doubt he 'would have kept his word.
"I just answered, 'Aye, aye, sir,' without looking
particularly concerned.
"' What will you do to the crew when the ship has
fallen into your hands?' I asked.
"' Send them to Davy Jones's 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 across a large field. 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 buffalo 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 some-
thing 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, if 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 the water, unobserved, and swam to the other ship,
I would have fought to the last, in their defence."
"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,


HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A PIRATE.
130.
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, between the two fires, I shouldn't have stood
a very good chance."
"I don't know but you are right."
"No, my lad, it didn't take me very long to decide
that there was nothing to be gained in this way. At
that moment, I chanced to go down below for some-
thing, when my eye rested on — what do you think?"
"What was it?"
"It was a keg of powder," 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
excitement.
"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 pretty considerable chance of swing-
ing 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 con-
sideration 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 should save


140
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
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 under-
standing 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 I thought, the more I had a kind of feeling that I
should escape. I thought I would go up on deck a min-
ute, 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 distrib-
uted 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. There wasn't much time
to lose, as the action was going to commence. So I
slipped down below, and fixed a slow match, so that it
would reach the powder in about a minute. I had just
about got it fixed, when who should I see coming down,
but the pirate captain. It seemed as if all my plans
were going to be knocked in the head. No doubt he
suspected that all was not as it should be, and was com-
ing down to see what was to pay. I felt desperate, and
fetched him as powerful a blow as I was able, on the
side of his head, and he fell like an ox, pretty effectu-
ally stunned."


HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A FIRATE. 141
"What next?"
"The next thing I did was to hurry upon deck.
'Where's the captain?' asked the mate. 'He'll be up
directly,' said I. And so he was, but not in the sense
that he understood 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 towards the
Sally Ann. As my head rose above the water, I saw
the mate about to fire at me, and I dove. When my
head was fairly out of water again, such a sound as
smote upon my ear! The light had reached the powder,'
and there was a terrible explosion. The ship was shat-
tered to pieces. The pirates were hurled into the air,
some with mutilated limbs, and I rather think that
some of them were considerably astonished. The cap-
tain did go up as I promised. He was flung a hundred
feet into the air, and never 'came down again alive. For
my part, I was lucky enough to reach the Sally Ann,
untouched by the falling fragments. When they found
out who I was, and how I had saved them, their grati-
tude knew no bounds. The owners made up a purse of
two thousand 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."


xxm.
antonio's plot.
Such is a specimen of the yarns — sometimes true,
sometimes 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 con-
dition, the persecution of the captain and the mate, who
had not forgotten 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 necessities.
"When we get back, my lad," said Bill Sturdy, " I'll
put half that money in the Savings Bank in your name,
so that if you and your mother want it at any time, yon
can use it."
"No, Bill," said Charlie, earnestly, "you are very
kind, but I couldn't consent to that."
"And why not, my lad? What do I want of it?
142


144
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
disposed to espouse his cause, because they could not
fail to notice the injustice with which the officers treated
him.
But trouble was brewing for 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.
Antonio had before hated Bill on account of his superi-
ority 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 Char-
lie, who had been the occasion of it. Yet he did not
dare to venture upon abuse, because it was generally
derstood that Bill Sturdy had constituted himself Char-
lie's especial friend and protector.
But there were other ways of compassing his end.
Antonio was subtile. He felt that his revenge must be
a more secret one, and he desired that it should involve
both Bill Sturdy and his prot6g£. If he could only
involve Charlie in some offence 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 inflicted, while
any interference would be insubordination, and get his
rival into serious trouble.
After reflection Antonio decided to implicate Charlie
in a charge of theft. It happened that the captain had
a valuable gold ring, set with diamonds, which, for rea-
sons unnecessary to state, he prized even beyond its
pecuniary value. Captain Brace, however, was not a
careful man. He would sometimes take off his ring,


antonio's plot.
145
and la^ it down on the cabin, table. On one occasion
Antonio, while upon deck, observed the captain pass,
and ascertained by a swift glance that the ring was not
upon his finger. Ho watched his opportunity, and slip-
ping 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 en-
gaged, 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 afterwards had by no
means deceived him.
"Look out for squalls," thought he. "He's too fair
seeming 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 appeared to be looking
in just the opposite direction.
"What's the fellow up to?" he thought. "Some
mischief, 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 sug-
13


146
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
gest that a general search.skould be instituted, the result
of which must involve our young hero.
Charlie was, of course, quite unconscious of the
machinations which were being formed against him,
and even Bill was not yet quite certain for what pur-
pose 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 our hero, 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 suspi-
+ cions, and place him on on his guard.
Antonio came up with an expression of malicious
satisfaction, 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.
"What can have become of it?" he thought.
He instituted a careful examination, but did not suc-
ceed in finding the lost article.
He prized it beyond its actual value, which was con-
siderable, and began to feel alarmed. It occurred to
him that he might have been mistaken about leaving it
on the table. It might possibly have been dropped
upon deck.


ANTONIO'S PLOT. 147
Going on deck, he communicated his loss to the crew,
and 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 he is found guilty, he shall be punished,
as sure as my name is Brace."


XXIV.
CHARLIE GETS INTO TROUBLE.
Chablie, at first taken by surprise when the charge
of theft was brought against him, now looked scornfully
indignant. Ignorant of the ways of the world, and the
wickedness of which some men are capable, he never,
for a moment, 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 found 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. "Hischest 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."
148


CHARLIE GETS INTO TROUBLE.
149
"You seem to have taken a great fancy to him,"
sneered Antonio. "You mustn't trust too much to
appearances. He looks to me as if he were guilty."
Charlie's cheeks were flushed, but not with shame or
confusion. It was indignation, that he should be sus-
pected of such a disgraceful crime.
By his side stood Bill Sturdy, who took an opportu-
nity 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?" persisted our hero,
but little enlightened.
"Hark you, my lad," said Bill, still farther 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
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.
13*


152
ciiarlie codman's cruise.
When his statement had been so unequivocably denied
by our'hero, Antonio suffered himself to look at him for
one instant, but in that brief glance was concentrated
so much of spite and venom and malice, that the boy
could not help shuddering, as if the countenance of a
fiend had been unexpectedly revealed to him.
"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 eager-
ness to .convict our hero of guilt did not commend itself
to their sense of justice and generosity. But Antonio
cared little for the sensation 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 to examine carefully the
clothes which had been taken out and were lying on
deck.
In lifting and shaking a shirt the ring rolled out.'*"
"TJiere is your ring, Captain Brace," said he, in a
tone of exultation, as he picked it up and extended it to
the captain.


XXV.
THE REAL CULPRIT 13 DISCOVERED.
The discovery of the ring made a profound impres-
sion upon all present. The sailors looked at first sur-
prised, and then sorrowful, for they could not escape the
conviction that Charlie had been tempted by the rich-
ness of the prize and had .actually stolen it.
Charlie was overwhelmed with astonishment and in-
dignation, and the thought that he was considered
guilty made him feel very uncomfortable.
The captain, the mate, and Antonio could hardly con-
ceal 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 than 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. Anto-
nio was disappointed to find that he neither looked dis-
turbed nor frightened. Bill waited calmly the course of
events.
Captain Brace exclaimed in his harsh voice, " It seems
we have a thief on board. We'll soon teach him the
153


154
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 Randall stepped forward with an evil smile upon
his face.
"Captain Brace, as I am the uncle of this boy, per-
haps 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 imposed 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 false-
hood that he actually had nothing to say. He mechani-
ically began to take off his jacket.
At this moment the clarion voice of Bill Sturdy was,


156 CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
\
"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 towards 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 mis-
chief. 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.
Eandall," said Bill, without betraying a particle of ex-
citement, but continuing to speak with the same calm
composure 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.
"Who is this man of whom you have been speak-
ing? " 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 ia


THE REAL CULPRIT IS DISCOVERED. 157
that has hatched this wicked plot against an innocent
boy."
Instantly the eyes of all, as if by some confmon im-
pulse, were fixed upon the form of Antonio, who, con-
fused, thunderstruck by the minute detail of his move-
ments, which he had supposed unnoticed by any one,
now stood with his face alternately flushing and paling,
looking the very picture of confession and detected guilt.
Unable to bear the glances fixed upon him, he ex-
claimed, 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,
excepting yourself, and your face is enough to do that.
However, I don't mind saying that you are the man I
mean. If Captain Brace will take the trouble to re-
member, 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 forward 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."
Carried away by his rage, Antonio, forgetting the
prudence which his past experience might have taught
him, threw himself suddenly upon Bill Sturdy, and
nearly succeeded in laying him prostrate upon the
deck.


160
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
After a mdmcnt's silence the captain said, " I don't
like that fellow, Mr. Randall."
"Do you mean Antonio?"
"No ; this Sturdy, who takes such airs upon himself."
"Neither do I," answered Randall, promptly.
"He'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,
significantly.
"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,
reluctantly. -'
"You think Sturdy's story is correct?"
"Yes i 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?"
"Is simply this. The boy's mother jilted me, or


162
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
Charlie, who was standing beside Ms tried and trusty
friend, Bill Sturdy.
"You don't know what's in store for you, my lad," he
muttered. "Pity his mother could not be here to see
his fair flesh quivering under the keen lash. Her heart
would 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."
Bill. Sturdy, meanwhile, said in a low voice to Charlie,
"I don't like the looks of the mate this morning. He's
hatching mischief of some, kind, if I'm not greatly
mistaken."
"Against us?"
"That's what I-mistrust, my lad; 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.
People hate worst those they have injured most, and he's
done you a great 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
about that. It wasn't because we were in want of a boy.
We might haVfe picked up plenty that would have been
glad to come." •
"I'm afraid you'll get into trouble with him for taking
my part," said Charlie, with some anxiety.
"Don't trouble yourself about me," said Sturdy,
shrugging his shoulders. "I ain't in any way fright-


A STORM BREWING
163
ened by his black looks, and if he tries to do you any
mischief, 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
glance that showed a storm was brewing.


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 our hero.
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 wrong-doer. 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 Randall, come here I"
Charlie came forward.
"Boy," said Captain Brace, sternly, "you were guilty
of insolence to me this morning. This shall never go
161


antonio's plot. . 165
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 unex-
pected 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!"
Charlie was a brave boy, but the prospect of this ig-
nominious 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 Char-
lie'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. "Tou should have
thought of all that before you indulged in insolence."
"But"
"It is too late, I say," roared the captain, irritated.
j." Strip, you young rascal, or you shall have some 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


THE LASH. 167
thrill of respect and admiration, as Sturdy manfully
came forward and offered his own back to the punish-
ment, which is properly regarded as an insult to man-
hood, 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
expense of his friend.
"No, Bill Sturdy," said he, manfully, "I don't want
yon to suffer in my place. It'll be hard to bear it," and
his lip quivered; "but it would be weak and cowardly
for me to let anybody else suffer in my place."
Charlie began to take off his jacket.
There was a murmuring among the crew, testifying to
the excitement which they felt.
"Put on your jacket, my lad," said Bill. "I'm older
and tougher than you, and I can bear it better."
And the stout seaman pulled off his shirt, and dis-
played his brawny shoulders, and a chest whose breadth
and depth betokend a strength which could not be styled
less than Herculean.
Antonio looked on, his eye 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 &
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."


THE LASH.
1G9
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 re-
finement 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.
There was a quiver, and that was all.
One — two — three — four —
In fast succession the blows fall upon his flesh, he
meanwhile standing firmly braced, though his cheek was
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
baleful 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, 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.


172
CHARLIE CODMAN's CRUISE.
further. The law, at the time of which I am speaking,
'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 commence-
ment of the scene, there had been audible murmurs
among the crew, the significance of which the captain
and mate would understand. The habit of subordi-
nation, 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 enor-
mous strength. Indeed, although he had received but
two stripes, and his enemy thirteen, it may be doubted
whether the pain inflicted by those two wfere 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 Sturd}', on the other hand, pro-
ceeded 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-
noticed. But an hour afterwards, as he sat in confer-
ence with- the mate, his fury burst the bounds he had
imposed upon it.


TWO CONFERENCES.
173
"Curse that fellow^ " he exclaimed. "Is he forever
% destined to thwart my designs? I felt that I could*
willingly 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 pre-
vents me. The fellow, unluckily, has secured their sym-
pathy. 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 Rio Janeiro, Captain
Brace?"
"Never but once, and that some nine or ten years
since."
"There are desperadoes in that city, as in others,"
pursued Randall, fixing his eyes intently upon the
captain.
"I do not quite catch your meaning, Mr. Randall."
"Men who are little troubled by conscientious scru-
ples, 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?"
J5*


174
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"Do SO."
The mate- rightly construed this into an intimation,
that his proposition, though hinting atcrime, 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 hare
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 com-
mon sailor on board the Porcupine, bound from New
York to Rio. 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?"


TWO CONFERENCES.
175
"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 back 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 con-
sidered 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 manage-
ment 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.
"And it was on my account, too," said the boy, re-
gretfully.
"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 captain couldn't have made me submit to
it. Besides there was one thing that repaid me for it
all. Antonio got something 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


XXIX.
DANGER THREATENS BILJ, STDRDY.
It is my intention to pass rapidly over the time which
intervened between the events which have been describ-
ed, and the arrival of the Bouncing Betsy at Ilio Ja-
neiro. Nothing happened of sufficient interest to call
for record.
As for our hero 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, therefore, 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 asleep 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
177


DANGER THREATENS BILL STURDY.
179
Meanwhile, the other, lifting his eyes from the glass,
had observed his close scrutiny, and chose to take of-
fence at it. He rose from his seat, and, advancing
towards Randall, observed, in a menacing tone, "It
appears to me, senor, that you are impertinent."
Randall understood the language in which this was
spoken, and coolly inquired, "How so?"
"You have been staring at me as if you had some
particular object in it."
"So I have," returned the mate, in the same tone as
before.
"Explain yourself, senor, and if, as I mistrust, you
mean to insult me, I will make you better - acquainted
with my good knife," and he tapped the knife signifi-
cantly.
"It is an acquaintance Much I do not court," said
Randall, shrugging his shoulders. "But it appears to
me that it is not well talking without something to
moisten the throat. I shall be happy to have you drink
with me."
"I beg your pardon, senor, for my suspicions, which,
I see, were wrong. I see that you are a gentleman.
Henceforth I will treat you as such."
"I thought you would learn to know me better," said
Randall, filling both glasses; "let me drink to our
better acquaintance."
Both sat down very amicably. The glass had made
them friends..
"I should like to ask your advice on a certain point,"
said Randall.
"I will give it with pleasure."


180
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
"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 Randall, "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 further for your man, then," said
the stranger, gulping down another glass.
"How is that?" asked Kandall, pretending not to
understand him fully.
"Because, you see before you one who is willing to
undertake it."
"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


THE PASS OF DEATH. 185
ard Cceur cle Lion, the English king, who won, in so re-
markable a degree, the chivalrous respect and affection
of the English people, and whose feats still live in the
pages of the greatest of modern romances.
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 pow-
erful, but my good knife will prevent his being danger-
ous 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 appear-
ance. The Brazilian, fixing his attention upon him,
followed them at a little distance, cautiously avoiding
the appearance of doing so, lest he might attract obser-
vation. 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 drink-
ing saloon, situated on a street considered hardly repu-
16*


THE PASS OF DEATH.
187
knife is buried in the back of Antonio, entering just
below the neck. He sank to the ground with a convul-
sive 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.
And the thought came to him.
Half lifting himself from the ground with his last re-
maining strength, he ejaculated, feebly, "Were you
hired to do this?"
"I was," said the assassin, briefly.
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.
With a curse upon his lips, a bitter malediction upon
his rival, he died.
Quickly stripping his victim of whatever he had about
him worth taking, his murderer crept away.


192 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
•
handed. We lost a sailor overboard just before we got
into Rio."
"Do you carry any passengers?"
"A few."
"I 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 bay."
"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 woman who will give you good
rooms."
Bill took down the address.
Towards 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.
A moment after, and a youthful form appeared upon
deck, descended the side swiftly, and stepped on the
wharf.
"Here I am, my ladj" 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 Bounc-
ing Betsy.


CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
are the only scholar, we sha'n't 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 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 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 for, perhaps," said her
teacher, smiling. "Success depends more upon a
series of small elforts, than any great one."
"Do you think I shall ever read well? " asked Bert,
doubtfully.


XXXIII.
A XETTER TROM CHARLIE.
Bert had plenty of capacity. She could get her les-
sons in an incredibly short time when there was any
inducement. At other times she would sit for two, or
three hours with the book before her, but with her atten-
tion straying to other things, and, as a natural conse-
quence, 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 disposed 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."
"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
109


200
CHAELIE CODMAN'S CKDISE.
more like racing round than I do. She'll jnst 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 j'ou 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
anticipated. May I be permitted to know who is to be
my son-in-law? I think I can guess, however."
« Who?"
"Mr. Bradley."
Mr. Bradley was. an old bachelor, of about fifty, par-
tially 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
manner. "I'd a good- deal rather marry Topsy."
"Perhaps," suggested her father, "the superior length
of the kitten's whiskers causes you to give her the pref-
erence. 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 LETTEK FKOM CHARLIE.
201
"A son of yours?" asked Mr. Bowman, in some sur-
prise.
Mrs. Coclman 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 room, Bert
gave her father a brief account of Charlie's disappear-
ance.
"You must pardon me, Mrs. Codman," said Mr. Bow-
man, in a tone of feeling, 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 min-
iature?"
"A very attractive face !" he said. "I don't wonder
at Bert's taking a fancy to it."
"I cannot wonder at your sorrow in losing, even for
a time, such a boy as this face seems to indicate," he
added.
"You think there is a chance of his comiDg back 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 1 think of the chances."
Mrs. Codman told the story, mentioning, also, the


20G
CHAItLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 clew to
the knowledge he desired, he went back to Wash-
ington' 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 was
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 rein3 with a dexterous hand. There
were two persons inside — one was a child of ten, a
lively young girl, across whose face a hundred change-
ful expressions flit. She was talking in an animated
strain to a lady with a beautiful arid expressive face,
who sat beside her.
These two persons were Ida and her governess.
The latter was looking better than when she was intro-
duced 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 rare beauty for which she had been
distinguished in her youth.
Randall could scarcely believe his eyes. This was
the woman whom he had pictured to himself as strug-


THE RETURN OF TIIE BETSY. 207
gling amid the deepest poverty to obtain a scanty sub-
sistence, 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 pic-
ture of health and happiness — with the same beauty
that had dazzled him in times past, surrounded by evi-
dences of prosperity and luxury.
"What can it mean?" he thought in bewilderment.
"Is it possible that my eyes are deceived by an acci-
dental resemblance?"
The carriage had already passed'him, but as it was
obliged to proceed slowly on account of a press of car-
riages, 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 sur-
prise.
The first explanation which suggested itself to him as
possible was, that Mrs. Codman had attracted the
attention of some wealthy gentleman, who forgetting
the distance which circumstances had established be-
tween them, had laid himself and his fortune at
her feet. Cut even then how could she appear so
light-hearted and happy unless Charlie had returned?
There was another supposition that old Peter Manson
had died, and on his death-bed, repenting his past
wickedness and injustice, had repaired the wrong of
which he had been guilty, as far as he could, by leaving
all his possessions to Mrs. Codman. This was to Ran-
dall the most disagreeable supposition 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


208
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
with considerable difficulty kept pace with the carriage.
It chanced that Bert and her governess were just return-
ing 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 Randall watched
them descend the steps of the carriage, and onter the
house. He paused long enough afterwards to cross the
street, note clown the name of Bowman together wi^h
the number, that he might be able to identify it hero-
after. 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 foot-
ing Mrs. Codman resides here. She must cither be the
wife of the proprietor or his house-keeper, 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."
"What is her name?"
"It's Mrs. Codman. Do you know her, sir?"
"I 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."


ixxxv.
CHARLIE TURNS UP UNEXPECTEDLY.
There was but little variety in the monotonous life
of Peter Manson. His life was one struggle for gold,
his thoughts were continually upon gold; gold 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 Randall.
The thousands which he had left could not compensate
to him for the one he had lost. So, in the hope of mak-
ing 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 shrivelled than before, and all this to
save a penny or two additional each day.
As Peter was crawling feebly along towards 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!"
"Who calls?" asked Peter, in a quavering voice,
slowly turning round.
210


212
CIIARL1E CODMAN'S CEUISE.
"Then you'll be ruined in a good cause," said Ran-
dall. "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 dol-
lars.
"Seems to me it has not left a very agreeable im-
pression 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 feloniously 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 Rio 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."
"Couldn't pay her rent, ha!"
"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?"


214
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRTJISE.
poverish myself in satisfying your last demand, and
have I not been obliged to live on bread and water
since?"
Randall shrugged his shoulders.
"I dare say you have lived on bread and water, but
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, passion-
ately. '.
"A beggar!" returned Randall, laughing scornfully;
"Yes," said Peter, with energy. "You promised,
when I gave you a thousand dollars," — his voice fal-
tered 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!"
he exclaimed, passionately; "not if I had it fifty times
over."
"Bethink you what you are saying, old man," said
Randall, menacingly. "Do you know that I can go to
Mrs. Codman and denounce you?"
"You will not," said Peter, trembling.
. "But I will, unless you comply with my demand.
Now what do you say? Better be reasonable, and con-
sent, before I compel you."
"Never!" 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 consid-
eration, and again he exclaimed, " Never!" with all the
energy of which he was capable.


CHARLIE TURNS UP UNEXPECTEDLY.
215
"Is this your final answer?"
"It is."
"Then I will help myself," said Randall, coolly,
leaving his chair, and beginning to lift up the trap-
door, beneath which was the miser's box of treasure.
As soon as Peter fairly comprehended his design, and
saw the gold coins 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, despair and rage made strong. At all
events, it was not particularly comfortable, and pro-
voked 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 ghall get into an ugly scrape."
He was not altogether Wrong.
The scream had been heard by twp, at least, who were
passing. The door was burst open, and in rushed Bill
Sturdy and Charlie, our young hero, who had just re-
turned to Boston, and were passing on their way up from
the wharf at which the vessel was lying.
"Mr. Randall!" exclaimed Charlie, in surprised rec-
ognition.
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 done you, may I
never see salt water again!"


XXXVI.
HOW CHARLIE COMES INTO HIS FORTUNE.
Probably there were no two persons then living
whom Randall at that moment cared less about seeing
than Bill Sturdy and our hero. Though astonished
beyond expression to see them there, his position was
too critical to allow him to waste time in giving expres-
sion to his surprise.
"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 his captor, coolly, " that we are
not now on the quarter-deck. Here I am your equal,
Mr. Randall, and perhaps you may find me a little
ahead."
"Let me go, if you know what is best for yourself,"
ejaculated Randall, almost foaming at the mouth.
"If you know what is best for yourself," said Bill,
composedly, "I would advise you to be quiet."
"And now," he continued, tightening his grasp a
21s


HOW CHARLIE COMES INTO HIS FORTUNE. 219
«' Yes."
"And what harm has he ever done to you?"
"I don't know," said Charlie, shaking his head,
"unless," and an anxious look came over his face,
"he has distressed her 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 en-
treat you, if you know."
"I do know," said Kandall, 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."
"Why," said Bill, cautiously, " I don't know, exactly.
He may be trying a game, and giving us information
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."


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 so-
briety and demureness of old cat-hood, was running
round after her tail.
"Oh, dear," sighed Bert, who was puzzling over a
lesson 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 gov-
erness, with a smile.
"I feel more so than usual. Something is going to
happen, I know."
"Something does happen every day, doesn't there?"
"Well, you know what I mean; something out of the
way. I shouldn't wonder if Charlie got home t6-day."
"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-


224 CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
haps, as in stories, — Mrs. Codman had hardly given
utterance 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. Cod-
man. But she did not forbid her going. Bert's earnest-
ness had given birth to a wild hope on her part, that it
might be as she had fancied.
Before the loitering servant had a chance to reach the
door, Bert had already 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 vis-
itor 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 rec-
ognized.
"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,
bashfully.
Bert danced back into the little study.
"I was right, Mrs. Codman," said she, triumphantly.
"It is Charlie."
"Has he come?" asked the mother, precipitately, let-


EEUNITED AT LAST. 227
"Then I am afraid there are a great many brutes in
the world."
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."


xxxvm.
REACHING PORT.
Will the reader ifnagine' 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
invited her to become his wife. Mrs. Codman was
taken by surprise, but found this proposition not alto-
gether unwelcome. 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 estab-
lished, and the law decided that the miser's wealth
must go to Charlie and his mother. It was found to
exceed the estimate which had been made of it, verging
close upon forty thousand dollars. Including interest
for twenty years, all this, and more of right, belonged to
those who had so long been defrauded of it.


200
CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE.
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 counting-room of his step-father, where, as we can-
not 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. Bowman. 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 modest and unassuming. He is a
prime favorite with Bert, 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


REACHING POET.
231
has drifted into smoother waters. The sky above him
is cloudless. His character has been strengthened by
his combat with adversity. Let us hope that his man-
hood may redeem the promise of his youth, and be
graced by all the noblest attributes of humanity.
THE END.
'