CHAPTER IIIA FALSE START
THERE was a tinge of red in the eastern sky when two very weary and very hungry boys came tramping into Southampton and made their way down to the docks. Among the innumerable vessels lying side by side they presently came to one which presented an appearance of greater bustle than the others; the steam was roaring from the funnels, cases and boxes were being lowered into the hold amid much shouting and running up and down of sailors, and everything betokened a speedy departure.
Of a man standing on the wharf, his hands in his pockets and a pipe in the corner of his mouth, one of the boys inquired whither this vessel was bound.
“D’n’-know,” grunted the man. “Dieppe, maybe, or St. Malo.”
“When does she sail?” asked the boy again.
“High tide; ’bout an hour.”
“Thank you,” said Percy, who had asked the questions; and then, turning to me, he suggested that we had time to go and get some breakfast.
In a greasy little den by the waterside we managed to make a very hearty meal, for we were too hungry to be particular, and in half an hour we sallied forth again much refreshed. Somewhat to our consternation, as we issued from the house we ran plump into the arms of a big policeman, who eyed us, as we thought, with suspicious keenness, but as he did not address us we walked back to the vessel, to which a gang-plank had now been run out.
There did not appear to be many passengers going aboard, but among them we noticed a large family, father and mother, three daughters, and a son, awaiting their turn, and joining ourselves to this party we walked on board with them, apparently without exciting any suspicion. If any of the officers thought anything about it at all, they probably supposed we were coming to see the rest of the family off.
We went at once down to the saloon, and walking up a long passage toward the stern,tapped at the door of one of the state-rooms. There was no answer, so, opening the door, we peeped in.
“This will do, Tom,” whispered my companion. “See; the beds are not made up; this cabin is not taken.”
We slipped in, shut the door, and crawled beneath the berths on either side. For the time, at any rate, we were safe.
During the long walk of the night before we had discussed a plan of action, and had decided that, instead of paying for our passage before starting, we would get on board and hide, if possible, in order to avoid unpleasant explanations until it should be too late to send us back; in which design we had succeeded more easily than we had ventured to hope.
In about half an hour we heard a bell ring, somebody called out, “Any more for the shore?” and not long afterwards, with a suddenness which made us jump, there came, just under our heads apparently, achug—chug—chug!and a splashing of water which notified us plainly enough that we had started. Presently, from the slight motion of the vessel, we guessed that we were clear of the docks and were steaming down between the Isle of Wightand the mainland. This motion continued for a long time, and then the boat suddenly heeled over and rolled back with a creaking of timbers and a slamming of doors which proclaimed the fact that we had rounded the Needles and were out in the English Channel.
“Percy,” I whispered, “I wonder what they are doing at home now. They’ve found your sheets hanging out of the window long before this.”
“Yes. And, Tom, I wonder if Bates has ventured to climb down the chimney yet.”
“Not he,” I replied. “The keepers might, but Bates won’t.”
We lay silent again, and presently, worn out by our long night’s tramp, and by the exertions and excitement of the day before, we fell asleep. It was towards evening when the ringing of the dinner-bell woke us up. Thinking it was the calling-bell at school, Percy started up and was at once brought to a sense of his present situation by cracking the back of his head sharply against the bottom of the berth. Seeing that I was moving he whispered across to me:
“Tom, shall we go out now? We must be nearly across. How long does it take to get over to France? Do you know?”
We had both crawled from our hiding-places, and were enjoying a hearty stretch; I had opened my mouth to reply to Percy’s question, when we heard footsteps in the passage, and a voice saying, “Number four. Lower berth.”
“This is number four, Percy,” I whispered, hastily. “Shall we hide?”
“No,” said he, stoutly, and “All right,” said I; and standing side by side we looked expectantly and with something of a tremor at the door.
The door opened, and a large man in a gold-laced hat put one foot inside the cabin and stopped, regarding us with wide-opened eyes. Behind him we saw a steward carrying an armful of bedding.
“Well, young gentlemen,” said the gold-laced man, whom we took to be the Captain; “where did you spring from?”
“We came on board this morning, sir,” said Percy, “and we’ve been asleep ever since.” Then, seeing that the man looked serious, he hastily added, “We are ready to pay for our passage, sir.”
“And, if you please, sir,” I asked, “shall we be able to get something to eat before we land?” For I was ravenously hungry.
At this the big man broke into a big laugh.“Well, yes,” said he. “You will be more than hungry if you don’t. Where do you suppose you are going to?”
“France,” we both answered together.
At this the big man’s countenance fell again. Telling the attending Steward to leave the bedding, he shut the door, and said:
“Boys, I’m afraid you have made some grievous mistake. This boat is not going to France. We are bound for New Orleans.”
It was our turn to look grave. Instead of a passage of six or eight hours, we were in for a sea-voyage of two or three weeks. Added to this, if we should give up all our money it would hardly suffice to pay our way, and moreover we should on landing be stranded, penniless, in a strange city in what was, to me at least, a foreign land. The situation was decidedly serious.
“How did you ever come to make such a mistake?” our interlocutor went on. “And why didn’t you take a ticket before coming on board? A pretty mess you’ve made of it.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, sir,” replied Percy, with a glance at me which I answered with a nod. “We ran away from school last night and intended to go over to France for a time; but we were afraid to offer to pay our passagebeforehand lest you should refuse to take us; so we slipped on board and hid in this cabin.”
“Well, well! You have certainly made a mess of it. I must go and tell the Captain——”
“The Captain! We thought you were the Captain.”
“No; I’m the Purser. How much money have you, by the way?”
“Seven pounds, sir, and twenty-five dollars.”
“Hm! Sixty dollars. Not much more than enough to pay your passage by steerage. And then you will be left paupers in New Orleans. Hm! I must go and talk to the Captain.”
“If you please, sir,” said Percy, “can’t we earn our passage somehow? We are both strong, and we’ll do anything.”
“I’ll see what can be done. Meanwhile you must have something to eat. Come with me.”
The Purser led us to the Steward’s pantry, and there left us busily and satisfactorily engaged in demolishing a dish of cold ham and a pile of bread and butter.
“Percy,” said I, as soon as we were left to ourselves, “we’ve got into a pretty hobble. How are we going to get out of it?”
“I don’t know how we are going to get out of it,” replied my companion. “Unless weshould meet another ship and the Captain should send us back we shall have to go on to New Orleans. As far as we are concerned I don’t care; it is thinking of the folks at home that bothers me. They won’t know what has become of us, and there will be no means of letting them know for three weeks, perhaps. If there was any way of getting back I’d go back, and chance being hung, rather than let them worry over us such a long time.”
“So would I,” was my response. “It would be quite a pleasure to meet a policeman if he would guarantee to send a message home to say we were all right.”
Though we were, perhaps, rather a harum-scarum pair of youngsters, we were not altogether graceless. We were very sincerely troubled about this matter. As it happened, however, our trouble was superfluous. Though we were not made aware of the fact until long afterwards, it may be well to say at once that our parents had already found out where we were, and, knowing that we were well capable of taking care of ourselves, so far from being overwhelmed with anxiety on our account, they were almost disposed to chuckle over the predicament in which they guessed we must be.
If only we could have known this, what a difference it would have made to our comfort!
But two healthy boys cannot long remain in a doleful frame of mind, and under the genial influence of the cold ham we presently began to brighten up.
“That Purser is a jolly old buffer,” said I; “I only hope the Captain is half as good a fellow. Suppose they let us work our passage, what shall we do when we get to New Orleans?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” replied Percy. “First of all, as soon as ever we set foot on shore, we must telegraph home, if it takes every cent we possess. Then, I propose that we take one of the big river-steamers up to St. Louis,—working our passage, if they’ll let us,—and from there turn eastward, ride as far as our money will take us, and walk the rest of the way to Philadelphia. I have lots of relations in Philadelphia, and they will help us. What do you think?”
I readily acquiesced in Percy’s plan; as, indeed, I should have done in any other he might have proposed. It was not likely that I should be able to contribute any valuable suggestions on the subject, for my knowledge of American geography and American distances was quitemicroscopic in its littleness. Of St. Louis I had never heard before, while as to the other two cities, I knew that one was somewhere in the South and the other somewhere in the East, and that was all. How far apart they might be I had no idea.
It was well we settled upon a plan of action while we had the chance, for, as it happened, we were destined to have few opportunities of conversing during the rest of the voyage. One of the stewards presently came in with a message from the Purser, to say that the Captain could not see us until next day, and that he—the Steward—would find us a bed. Accordingly, after going on deck in the forward part of the ship to get a breath of fresh air for half an hour, we went to bed and slept soundly until next morning.
Soon after breakfast, our friend (as we had come to regard him) the Purser came and told us to follow him to the Captain’s cabin. It was with a good deal of apprehension that we entered the sanctum of the monarch of this little floating kingdom, but as there was nothing else to be done we plucked up such courage as was left to us and stepped over the threshold.
The Captain was a grey-haired, clean-shavenlittle man, with a keen eye and a quick manner. He looked up as we came in.
“Oh, these are your stowaways, are they, Mr. Purser?” said he. “So you have run away from school, have you, you young scamps? Do you know I could put you in irons and take you back to Southampton if I chose? I’m not sure but that I ought to do it. How am I to know that you are not running away from the law?”
At this accidental shot Percy and I felt very uncomfortable, perceiving which, and supposing that he had hurt our feelings, the Captain changed his tone.
“Well, well,” said he, good-naturedly, “I don’t think that; your appearance is in your favour; you look like an honest pair of youngsters. So you want to work your passage, do you? Is either of you any good at figures?”
“Yes, sir,” said I, brightening up in a moment, and pointing with my thumb at Percy. “Goodall, here, is a regular nailer.”
“Oh, Goodall is a regular nailer, is he?” repeated the Captain, relaxing into a smile. “Well, Mr. Purser, suppose you take this nailer and set him to work in your office. Keep him tight at it; make him earn his passage. And you, you great hobbledehoy,”—to me,—“whatcan you do? Your hands are more use to you than your head, I’ll wager.”
I suppose my wits were somewhat confused by this sudden address; at any rate, after a moment’s consideration, I commenced the enumeration of my capabilities by saying thoughtfully:
“Well, sir, I’m a pretty good shot with a bow and arrow”—at which absurd reply both the Captain and the Purser burst into peals of laughter.
“How old are you, boy?” asked the former as soon as he had recovered his powers of speech.
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Sixteen! I thought you were eighteen. Are you willing to shovel coal for a living for the next two weeks?”
“Yes, sir,” said I, eagerly.
“Very well, then. The Chief Engineer tells me, Mr. Purser, that one of his firemen is laid up with a sprained wrist; so find this boy a suit of overalls if you can and turn him loose in the boiler-room. It is a good hot job, and it will take off some of his flesh; he’s a deal too fat. Now, get along with you, you young scamps, and mind you behave yourselves.”
“Well, boys,” said the Purser, after we hadretired, “you have come out of that scrape pretty well.”
“Thanks to you, sir, I expect,” said Percy.
“I put in a good word for you, I admit,” replied our big friend. “I was pleased with the way you spoke up last night. Now I must see to putting you to work. Come along.”
As a result of the Purser’s arrangements Percy and I were separated; he being pretty closely confined by his duties in the Purser’s office, while I, dressed up in a canvas suit, was sent down into the black depths of the ship, to shovel coal.
It would be needless repetition to go into all the details of our voyage, every day being but a counterpart of the day before. It is enough to say that when, after a smooth and uneventful passage, the engines at last stopped, and I was at liberty to go on deck, I found myself looking out over a great city,—the metropolis of the Southern States.
Before we went ashore I was told that the Captain had sent for me to his cabin, and as soon as I had washed and changed my canvas suit for my own clothes I hastened to obey the message. I was about to knock at the door when I saw Percy coming towards me, andguessing that he had received a similar command I waited for him.
As I stood there close by the door I heard the Captain’s voice addressing someone inside. He seemed to be much amused by something his companion had just been telling him, for he was laughing heartily.
“Capital idea!” he exclaimed. “It will do them all the good in the world. You may report from me that they have behaved very well, and that in my opinion they are quite capable of taking care of themselves.”
At this moment Percy joined me, when we at once knocked at the door and stepped into the cabin. The individual to whom the Captain had been talking, a small, sharp-faced man in a check suit, rose as we entered, and taking no notice of us apparently, thanked the Captain for his information and went out.
“Well, boys,” said the Captain, “I sent for you to tell you that I have had a satisfactory report of both of you, and to give you this”—handing us ten dollars each; “I’m told you have earned it. Now let me give you something else—a piece of advice. Telegraph to your friends for the money and turn right round and go home again. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, sir; and thank you,” said Percy and I together, glad to be thus dismissed without the cross-questioning to which we had feared we might be subjected. Having then taken leave of our good friend the Purser, we straightway went ashore.
Pausing only for a few minutes to look down upon the city, and to wonder how the inhabitants ever dared to go to bed with that tremendous river only awaiting an opportunity, apparently, to rush in and drown them all before morning, we set off in search of a telegraph-office, whence we sent a brief message home, and having also mailed a long letter which Percy had written during the passage out, we retraced our steps to the river-side.
As we left the post-office we noticed the sharp-faced man whom we had seen in the Captain’s cabin. He was talking to a policeman, who, as we passed, turned his eyes in our direction and laughed at something the small man said. The sound of the laugh was a great relief to us. If we were the objects of it, well and good. The policeman might laugh at us as much as he liked, provided he did not interfere with us. To tell the truth, we had been somewhat apprehensive lest we might on landingbe snapped up by the authorities and shipped off to England, willy-nilly.
Among the many steamboats of extraordinary shape—as they seemed to me—lying along the levee we soon found one about to start up the river, and stepping on board we addressed ourselves to one who appeared to be in authority—an authority he maintained, seemingly, by the use of a copious and needless flow of profane language.
“Well, what do you want?” asked this personage, turning upon us as though he had been a dog, and we had come to steal his bone.
We stated our desires and our qualifications, with the result that we both secured places as “roustabouts”; and thoroughly disgusted were we both with our tasks long before we reached St. Louis. It was not so much the nature of the work to which we objected, nor was it to the society of the negroes and poor-whites with whom we were herded; our main objection was to the stream of foul language for ever being poured upon us by “his profanic majesty,” as Percy called him, the Mate. It required all our resolution not to desert half-a-dozen times on the way up, but being determined to stick to our plan, if possible, we managed to hold onuntil, at last, the ordeal was over, and we found ourselves one day walking, free and untrammelled, in the streets of St. Louis.
The first thing we did on landing was to enter a cheap clothing store and purchase some underclothes—a much-needed addition to our wardrobe. As we were going out again we brushed past a man who was trying on a new necktie before a looking-glass, and happening to look into the glass, I saw, rather to my surprise, that it was the small, sharp-faced man whom we had twice seen in New Orleans. It struck me as being an odd coincidence, but nothing more, and I did not even mention it to Percy.
Betaking ourselves next to a little eating-house, we ordered some dinner, and while waiting for it Percy amused himself and me by reading items from the old newspaper in which our clothes were wrapped. Presently he gave a subdued whistle, and after glancing around the room to see if anyone was observing us, he leaned across the table and said, softly:
“Tom, here’s something about us. Listen. ‘The police of Philadelphia have been requested by the Chief-Constable of Southampton, England, to look out for two runaway boys. The names of the boys are Per’—there’s a piecetorn out here, but lower down it goes on—‘has many relatives in Philadelphia, and it is expected they will probably make for that city.’”
This was a dreadful shock to us. Here was our line of retreat cut off, so to say. The mention of the Chief-Constable of Southampton fully convinced us that the paragraph emanated from Sir Anthony, whose resentment at having his pheasants shot and his keepers entrapped we pictured to ourselves in lively colours. Doubtless, we thought, the police of Philadelphia were all on the lookout, and should we venture within the limits of that city we should instantly be pounced upon by them and sent back across the water to be delivered into the clutches of the vengeful Sir Anthony. What were we to do?
We ate our dinner in silence and perturbation of spirit, and, still undecided as to our future course, we were about to rise and go out, when Percy, with a thump upon the table, suddenly exclaimed:
“I know what we’ll do, Tom.”
“What?” I asked.
“Instead of going east, we’ll go west. We’ll go to Ogden in Utah.”
“Where’s Ogdenenutah?” said I, thinking it was all one word.
“In the Rocky Mountains.”
“Is it? That will suit me. I’ve always wanted to see the Rocky Mountains. But why should we go to that place with the long name in particular?”
“Because I have an uncle and a cousin living in a mining town called Golconda, not far from there. I have not seen them since I was a little bit of a boy, but I have heard my father talk of them, and I am sure they will be just the ones to tell us what we ought to do.”
“All right,” said I. “Let us go to Ogdenenutah. How are we to get there?”
“Why, I think we had better go part way by train and part way on foot. It won’t do to spend all our money on railway tickets, because there’s no knowing what may turn up. We will go by train as far as we think we can afford to go, and walk the rest of the way to Ogden—Ogden in the Territory of Utah, you old stupid!”
“Very well,” said I, nodding my head in approval. “We’ll go to Ogden in the Territory of Utah. How far do you suppose we shall have to walk?”
“I can’t say for certain, of course, until I see how far our money will take us, but five hundred miles perhaps,—possibly more.”
“Phew!” I whistled. “That is something like a walk. Never mind. We’ll do it. We’ll go to the Territory of Ogden in Utah if we have to hop.”