A Story of the Revolution.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A LOYAL TRAITOR.
"How many men have you?" inquired William, as he accompanied the black-bearded man down the road.
"About one hundred," he said; "but there are about twice as many good lads gathering to the southward who will be up in time to assist us. The English have taken possession of a brick house with a stone wall, and are afraid to leave it. They are waiting for re-enforcements."
To his astonishment, William saw that the company was composed, with the exception of the men who had met him in the road, of few whom he would consider fit to fight in the ranks—boys of fourteen and old gray-headed men that had been left at home, for the flower of New Jersey manhood was in the army.
Ralston had called a score or so about him. "Friends," he said, "this is an old comrade, now a Lieutenant in the army. Let us hold counsel. It is right that he should take command. We are quite well drilled but not equipped, sir," he said, turning to William.
The latter looked about. Some of the farmers were armed only with pitch-forks or rough pikes made from scythes. The Quaker with the pig had been greeted with the cry of "Fresh pork! Fresh pork!" and a rail fence was soon converted into fuel.
"I am on special duty," William said, after a thought. "I should not tarry long."
If he refused to accede to their wishes he would place himself in a dangerous position, and not only that, but would probably hurt most seriously the brother whom he was supposed to be. What would he not give for some news about George's condition? He had only gathered, from what Cato had told him, that his younger brother was not seriously wounded.
"Let's adjourn to the barn," suggested the sergeant, "and talk matters over."
All followed him, and seated themselves on the edge of a large bin. With ears of corn Ralston marked out the position that the English and Hessians held in the valley below. To save himself, William could not help but be interested.
"Keep them talking," he thought. "That's it; but propose great caution. It may give the others time to get away."
A freckle-faced red-eyed boy with a narrow-stocked rifle much taller than himself looked into the door.
"What is it, Tommy?" said one of the men, as the boy pulled off his coon-skin cap.
"Are we going to fight, sir?" asked the youth.
"Ay, you'll get your chance," was the answer.
The boy shouldered his musket and walked away.
"Did you mark the lad, Mr. Frothingham?" said Ralston, glancing up from his plan. "The Hessians two days ago killed his old grandfather and burnt his sick mother's house down about her head."
This recital started another of the group, and William listened in horror and amazement. In common with many other officers in the English service, he had deprecated the use of the German hirelings. His anger at their outrages overcame every other feeling in his breast.
"You say the Hessians are here," he said, pointing with his finger at a bunch of corn-cobs, "and that the hill is off here to the right?"
"Yes," answered Ralston, "and the swamp guards their retreat to the eastward."
Before he knew it, William found himself offering a plan of attack. The others listened with great attention.
"A true military eye," observed one old man, leaning over his neighbor's shoulder. "It is a young David come to lead us against the Philistines."
Suddenly William caught his breath. What was he doing? This was nice work for an officer in the service of the King. "How far off is this brick house you speak of?" he asked, hoping that even now he might escape the consequences of his impetuosity.
"Maybe a mile or so," was the response from the old man.
"Had we better not divide our forces, as you suggest, and prepare for an attack?" said Ralston.
"Yes, I have a thirsty sword." The man tapped an old Scotch claymore that hung by his side.
"Well said, McPherson," put in another, and William followed them as they went out through the barn door.
"Draw up in line, comrades, the older men to the top of the hill, and the younger take position at the edge of the swamp," Ralston spoke again.
It seemed impossible that such a mob could do anything against an organized resistance, but a surge of mingled admiration and pride swept over William. A great lump came into his throat. He glanced at the eager boys and the bent forms of the old men. Ye gods! These were his countrymen! Some one, he did not know who, shouted, "Forward!" and he found himself at the head of a shuffling, swaying company that straggled out across the road. He was leading as they silently went through the meadow and came to the crest of a hill where the stubble of the corn-stalks just showed above the snow. Below him he saw a large brick house, and about it a strong stone wall. Even from this distance he could make out the green uniforms of the Hessians and a few red coats dotted amongst them. William halted an instant.
The weak point of the defence he observed at once. From behind the rocks on the hill-side the interior of the yard could be commanded. There were few windows in the house facing the westward, and a large hay-cock stretched up almost to the second story. He could not help it! The tales he had heard made him hate the mercenary green coats that had brought disgrace upon warfare, if such could be. He was in command. He could not back out, but hesitated to give the word. Another mind, however, had seen the same opportunity that had struck William so forcibly. As the men stopped on the hill-side there was a rattling volley below them. A body of ragged men in homespun much like those grouped about him appeared on the edge of the alders in the swamp. Others swarmed out from the woods. The party from the southward had decided to wait no longer for assistance from the forces under Ralston. Captain Littel, of New Jersey, was in command of this attack. So well feared and hated had he been that there was a reward upon his head. William was surprised at the intrepid charge that these farmer soldiers made upon the wall. A handful ran out across the meadow, and despite the fact that three fell before they had gone one hundred yards, they reached the side of the house. One of the men was carrying a flaming torch. In an instant the hay-cock roared up in flames, and now the men about him could stand it no longer, but with a shout they dashed down the hill-side with no more order than a herd of charging cattle. Spurts of smoke sprang from the windows of the farm-house. The Waldeckers and the British were driven from behind the wall, but the house had now caught fire from the burning hay. The Americans swarmed about it. A man with an axe burst the door. There were some more shots, but soon the white flag was extended from one of the windows. This recalled William to his senses, and then he noticed that he was not alone. Ralston stood beside him.
"Hasten!" he said. "They have surrendered; but so great is their rage that I am afraid if we do not interfere our people will take no prisoners. Their blood is hot, they seek revenge!"
Holding his lame arm closely to his side, William ran down the hill, and was soon at the house. Captain Littel, who had led the first attack, had been wounded.
"Is any one in command here?" shouted a voice from the window.
Looking up, a British officer was seen standing there. One of the countrymen levelled a rifle at him, taking aim.
William knocked the piece aside. "Teach them a lesson. Behave like men. You are not murdering Indians!"
"But those green-coated devils are," said the man, "which is just as bad." Again he rested his rifle.
William drew back his hand as if to fell the man.
"Hold! You are right," said the latter; "but if you had seen what I have—" He stopped.
In a minute William found himself haranguing the angry crowd about him. The fearless ring of his voice and his soldierly bearing had its effect.
The men grew calmer. The fire had now eaten its way into the interior of the house, and the roof was blazing.
"We surrender," said the officer at the window. "Is there any one here to whom I can give my sword? For God's sake, don't burn us all to death!"
Ralston, standing at William's side, shouted back, "Come down, then, all of you."
He pushed the men hither and thither with his strong arms, and formed a lane for them to pass through. Again he needed strong efforts to restrain the feelings of the victors as the frightened Hessians and a few English hurried out of the burning house. The officer was carrying his sword by the blade. He approached and extended it toward Ralston, but the latter waved him to where William was standing, pale and torn with conflicting emotions. As the man in the red coat approached he started, and almost dropped his sword. It was Captain Markham, who only a few days ago William had left in the coffee-room at the tavern in New York.
"Do I give my sword to you?" he said.
"Keep it," said William.
"I will not," said the officer, and he dashed it to the ground at the latter's feet. "So you are in your true colors at last," he said; "but let me tell you, sir, it was lucky that you left just when you did. You were seen talking in a doorway with a man who is now known to be a spy, and, worse luck, he escaped us also. You know whom I mean?"
"I do not," was William's reply.
"That old man Norton."
William said nothing. He remembered the incident now in the snow-storm.
"Your name is stricken from your regiment, and you are posted for what you are, you rebel!"
William had no reply to this long speech, and his attention was now called to a different direction. One of the attacking party had recognized a low-visaged German who had been prominent in the outrages at the village. They were for hanging him at once. The band of English were outnumbered now three to one. They had piled their arms in a heap as they left the doorway of the house, and were huddled together in an angle of the wall. Once more William's calm words and appearance had their effect, and there was a lull. Quickly he told off the most prominent leaders of the guerilla forces and divided the prisoners into squads. Once started on the march, it would be easier to keep order. When this was accomplished he spoke to Captain Markham.
"I cannot reply at length to what you say. All I can do is to save your lives. Maybe fortune has granted me that power. I am not a traitor by intent."
The company moved out across the fields, taking up their wounded, and leaving the dead Hessians where they were.
Captain Markham marched silently along, paying no attention to the looks that were thrown at him by the angry victors. He admired William's bearing, despite the standpoint from which he looked upon him. "I understand now," he said, "why it was you never took the oath of allegiance to the King."
It was William's turn to start. It was a fact. The ceremony, owing to the haste in the purchasing of his command and of the departure of Colonel Forsyth from England, had been omitted.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked the Captain. "How did you come to be in command?"
"Through fate, perhaps," responded William; "it has decided many things. I am going to take you to Morristown, if I can; and as for myself, I shall turn myself in as a prisoner of war with the rest of you. I cannot explain. Some day you will understand."
It was necessary to hasten the march now, for a messenger had arrived, stating that re-enforcements of the British were approaching from Elizabethtown. They marched ahead at a faster pace.
It was a strange tale that William Frothingham related when he brought his command to the American lines. The idea of an English officer leading an American attack, and after victory convoying his prisoners to his enemy's lines, and there insisting upon giving himself up also as a prisoner of war—this was something new in the annals of history. He found himself in the most remarkable position that probably a man had ever been placed in before.
After hearing his tale and recovering from the astonishment of finding that it was not the Lieutenant Frothingham they knew, the Americans would not accept him as a prisoner. The Commander-in-Chief expressed the sentiment of the meeting in these words:
"You are free to return, sir, without exchange; but it is my advice that you do not do so. What you can explain to us you could never explain to the gentlemen who are temporarily in New York city."
Colonel Roberts, of Washington's staff, here whispered a suggestion. It was taken up at once, and the sentence of the court to which William had presented his remarkable petition was as follows:
"Lieutenant William Frothingham, late of his Majesty King George's service, is hereby ordered to free confinement at the Manor House of Stanham Mills, to be paroled there on honor not to escape or desert a country that has profited by his free service."
"BROTHER MINE," SAID GEORGE.... "IT IS FOR KING OR COUNTRY."
It was at Stanham Mills.
"Yes, I knowed it all de time," said old Cato to the group in the kitchen. The old man was breathless from reiterating this statement.
In the big hall a strange meeting was taking place. So many explanations had to be made; so many questions asked and answered; so many stops and pauses for Aunt Clarissa to overcome her tears and bursts of self-deprecation, that it was a long time before quiet and calm could be restored; but when this had happened, the impossible seemed to have been accomplished, for there sat the twins as they had years and years before, hand in hand, and grouped around them were Aunt Clarissa, Colonel Hewes, Grace, and Carter, for the young Captain had considerately been given charge of the remarkable prisoner, and many a long chat and silent hand-grasp had they indulged in between Morristown and Stanham. William's depression was rolling off him. Somehow it seemed very natural to be here with his own people again, so much happier than being with the roistering, swaggering officers that he had so long been thrown in with.
At last good-nights were said, and Aunt Clarissa, with a final burst of weeping, had gone up stairs on the arm of her tall young niece. George and William stepped to the door as they watched Carter and his father mount their horses, for the latter was now living in a small house with the troops at the foundry.
A figure was standing leaning against one of the pillars. It advanced as the twins came out upon the piazza.
"How!" was the greeting in a deep chest tone.
"How, Adam!" William responded, taking the old Indian's extended hand. Again the latter repeated this exclamation, and turning, shuffled off. In his belt shone a great horse-pistol. It had once belonged to Cloud, the Renegade.
"Brother mine," said George, placing his arm across William's shoulder, "it has been the finger of the Lord."
William rested his head on his arm. "But they say I am a traitor," he replied.
George laughed. "You are a patriot, then," he said. "You could not help what grew up in your heart. It is for King or country."
"For country, then," said William, firmly.
"God prosper us," said George, "we will help deliver it together."
[the end.]
[RICK DALE.]
BY KIRK MUNROE.
CHAPTER VII.
CAPTAIN DUFF OF THE SLOOP "FANCY."
As the newly engaged crew of the sloop Fancy slowly and awkwardly descended the slippery ladder leading down to his ship, he experienced his first regrets at the decisive step he had taken, and doubts as to its wisdom. The real character of the sloop as shown by a single glance was so vastly different from his ideal, that for a moment it did not seem as though he could accept the disreputable old craft as even a temporary home. Never before had he realized how he loathed dirt and disorder, and all things that offended his delicately trained senses. Never before had he appreciated the cleanly and orderly forms of living to which he had always been accustomed. He could not imagine it possible to eat, sleep, or even exist on board such a craft as lay just beneath him, and his impulse was to fly to some remote place where he should never see or hear of the Fancy again. But even as he was about to do this the sound of Bonny's reassuring voice completely changed the current of his thoughts.
Was not the lad who had brought him to this place a very picture of cheerful health, and just such a strong, active, self-reliant boy as he longed to become? Surely what Bonny could endure he could! Perhaps disagreeable things were necessary to the proper development of a boy. That thought had never come to him before, but now he remembered how much his hands had suffered before they were trained to catch a regulation ball.
Besides all this, had not Bonny hesitated before consenting to give him a trial, and had he not insisted on coming? Had he not also confidently asserted that all he wanted was a chance to show what he was good for, and that nothing save a dismissal should cause him to relinquish whatever position was given to him? After all, no matter how bad things might prove on the sloop, there would always be plenty of fresh air and sunshine, besides an unlimited supply of clean water. He could remember catching glimpses, in foreign cities, of innumerable pestilential places in which human beings were compelled to spend whole lifetimes, where none of these things were to be had.
Yes, he would keep on and make the best of whatever presented itself, for perhaps things would not prove to be as bad as they seemed; and, after all, he was willing to endure a great deal for the sake of continuing the friendship just begun between himself and Bonny Brooks. He remembered now having once heard his father say that a friendship worth having was worth fighting for. If that were the case, what a coward he would be to even think of relinquishing his first real friendship without making an effort to retain it!
By the time all these thoughts had flashed through the boy's mind he had gained the sloop's deck, where he was startled by an angry voice that sounded like the bellow of an enraged bull. Turning quickly, he saw his friend Bonny confronted by a big man with a red face and bristling beard. This individual, supported by a pair of rudely made crutches, was standing beside the after-companionway and glaring at the bag containing his own effects that had been tossed down from the wharf.
"Ye've got a hand, have ye?" roared this man, whom Alaric instinctively knew to be the Captain. "Is this his dunnage?"
"Yes, sir," replied the first mate. "And I think—"
"Never mind what you think," interrupted the Captain, fiercely. "Send him about his business, and pitch his dunnage back on the wharf or pitch it overboard, I don't care which. Pitch it! d'ye hear?"
"But, Captain Duff, I think—"
"Who asked ye to think? I do the thinking on board this craft. Don't ye suppose I know what I'm talking about? I tell ye I had this Phil Ryder with me on one cruise, and I'll never have him on another! An impudent young puppy as ever lived, and a desarter to boot. Took off two of my best men with him, too. Oh, I know him, and I'd Phil him full of his own rifle-bullets ef I had the chance! I'd like to Ryder him on a rail, too."
"You are certainly mistaken, sir, this time, for—"
"Who, I? You dare say I'm mistaken, you tarry young swab you?" roared the man, his face turning purple with rage. "Oh, ef I had the proper use of my feet for one minute I'd show ye! Put him ashore, I tell ye, and do it in a hurry too, or you'll go with him without one cent of wages—not one cent, d'ye hear? I'll have no mutiny where I'm Cap'n."
Poor Alaric listened to this fierce outbreak with mingled fear and dismay. Now that the situation he had deemed so surely his either to accept or reject was denied him, it again seemed very desirable. He was about to speak up in his own behalf when the angry man's last threat caused him to change his mind. He could not permit Bonny to suffer on his account, and lose the position he had so recently attained. No, the very first law of friendship forbade that; and so, stepping forward to claim his bag, he said, in a low tone, "Never mind me, Bonny; I'll go."
"No, you won't!" retorted the young mate, stoutly, "or, if you do, I'll go with you; and I'll have my wages too, Captain Duff, or know the reason why."
Without paying the slightest attention to this remark, the man was staring at Alaric, whom he had not noticed until this moment. "Who is that landlubber togged out like a sporty salt?" he demanded.
"He's the crew I hired, and the one you have just bounced," replied Bonny.
"What's his name?"
"Rick Dale."
"What made you say it was Phil Ryder, then?"
"I didn't, sir. You—"
"Don't contradict me, you unlicked cub! Can he shoot?"
"No, sir," replied Alaric, as Bonny looked at him inquiringly.
"All right. I wouldn't have him aboard if he could. Why don't he take his thundering dunnage and go for'ard, where he belongs, and cook me some grub when he knows I haven't had anything to eat sence sunup? Why don't he, I say?"
With this Captain Duff turned and clumped heavily to the other side of the deck; while Bonny, hastily picking up the bag that had been the innocent cause of all this uproar, said, in a low voice,
"Come on, Rick. It's all right."
As they went forward together he dropped the bag down a tiny forecastle hatch. Then, after asking Alaric to cut some kindlings and start a fire in the galley stove, which was housed on deck, he dove into the cabin to see what he could find that could be cooked for dinner.
When he reappeared a minute later, he found his crew struggling with an axe and a chunk of hard wood, from which he was vainly attempting to detach some slivers. He had already cut two deep gashes in the deck, and in another moment would probably have needed crutches as badly as the Captain himself.
"Hold on, Rick!" cried the young mate, catching the axe-helve just as the weapon was making another erratic descent. "I find those grocery chaps haven't sent down any stores. So do you just run up there. It's two doors this side of Uncle Isaac's, you know, and hurry them along. I'll 'tend to the fire while you are gone."
Gladly exchanging his unaccustomed, and what he considered to be very dangerous, task of wood-chopping for a task that he felt sure he could accomplish creditably, Alaric hastened away. He found the grocer's easily enough, and demanded of the first clerk he met why the stores for the sloop Fancy had not been sent down.
"Must have been the other clark, sir, and I suppose he forgot all about 'em; but I'll attend to the order at once, sir," replied the man, who took in at a glance Alaric's gentlemanly bearing and the newness of his nautical garb. "Have 'em right down, sir. Hard bread, salt junk, rice, and coffee, I believe. Anything else, sir?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Alaric.
"Going to take a run on the Fancy yourself, sir?"
"Yes."
"Then of course you'll want some soft bread, a few tins of milk, half a dozen jars of marmalade, and a dozen or so of potted meats?"
"I suppose so," assented the boy.
"Step this way, sir, and let me show you some of our fine goods," suggested the clerk, insinuatingly.
In another part of the building he prattled glibly of pâté-de-foie-gras and Neufchatel cheese, truffles, canned mushrooms, Albert biscuit, anchovy paste, stuffed olives, Weisbaden prunes, and a variety of things—all of which were so familiar to the millionaire's son, and had appeared so naturally on all the tables at which he had ever sat, that he never for a moment doubted but what they must be necessities on the Fancy as well. Of ten million boys he was perhaps the only one absolutely ignorant that these luxuries were not daily articles of food with all persons above the grade of paupers; and as he was equally without a knowledge of their cost, he allowed the clerk to add a dozen jars of this, and as many pots of that, to his list, until even that wily individual could think of nothing else with which to tempt this easy-going customer. So, promising that the supplies just ordered should be sent down directly, he bowed Alaric out of the door, at the same time trusting that they should be honored with his future patronage.
Bethinking himself that he must have a tooth-brush, and that it would also be just as well to have his own comb, in spite of Bonny's assurance that the ship's comb would be at his service, the lad went in search of these articles. When he found them he was also tempted to invest in what he regarded as two other indispensables, namely, a cake of fine soap and a bottle of eau-de-Cologne.
He had gone quite a distance for these things, and occupied a full half-hour in getting them. As he retraced his steps toward the wharves he passed the slop-shop in which his first purchases of the day had been made, and was greeted by the proprietor with an inquiry as to whether old Duff had taken aboard his cargo of "chinks and dope" yet. Not understanding the question Alaric did not answer it; but as he passed on he wondered what sort of a cargo that would be.
By the time he regained the wharf to which the Fancy was moored the flooding tide had raised her to a level with it, and on her deck Alaric beheld a scene that filled him with amazement. The stores that he had ordered had arrived. The wagon in which they had come stood at one side, and they had all been taken aboard. One of the two men who had brought them was exchanging high words and even a shaking of fists with the young first mate of the sloop, while the other was presenting a bill to the Captain and insisting upon its payment.
CAPTAIN DUFF, FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND PURPLE IN THE FACE, WAS SPEECHLESS WITH RAGE.
Captain Duff, foaming at the mouth and purple in the face, was speechless with rage, and could only make futile passes with one of his crutches at the man with the bill, who dodged each blow with great agility. As Alaric appeared this individual cried out,
"Here's the young gent as ordered the goods now!"
"Certainly," said Alaric, advancing to the sloop's side. "I was told to order some stores, and I did so."
"Oh, you did, did ye! you thundering young blunderbuss?" roared Captain Duff, finding his voice at last. "Then suppose you pay for 'em."
"Very well," replied the lad, quietly, thinking this an official command that must be obeyed.
A minute later peace was restored, Captain Duff was gasping, and his first mate was staring with amazement. The bill had been paid, the wagon driven away, and Alaric was again without a single cent in his pockets.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNLUCKY SMASH.
Captain Duff's first order after peace was thus restored and he had recovered the use of his voice, temporarily lost through amazement at the spectacle of a sailor before the mast paying out of his own pocket for a ship's stores, and stores of such an extraordinary character as well, was that the goods thus acquired should be immediately transferred to his own cabin. So Bonny, with Alaric to assist, began to carry the things below.
The cabin was very small, dirty, and stuffy. The air of the place was so pervaded with a combination odor of stale tobacco smoke, mouldy leather, damp clothing, bilge water, kerosene, onions, and other things of an equally obtrusive nature, that poor Alaric gasped for breath on first descending the steep flight of steps leading to it.
On his next trip below the lad drew in a long breath of fresh air just before entering the evil-smelling cabin, and determined not to take another until he should emerge from it. In his haste to execute this plan he dropped his armful of cans, and without waiting to stow them, had gained the steps before realizing that the Captain was ordering him to come back.
Furious at having his command thus disregarded, the man reached out with one of his crutches, caught it around the boy's neck, and gave him a violent jerk backward.
The startled lad, losing his foothold, came to the floor with a crash and a loud escaping "Ah!" of pent-up breath. At the same moment the cabin began to be pervaded with a new and unaccustomed odor so strong that all the others temporarily withdrew in its favor.
"Oh, murder! Let me out!" gasped Captain Duff, as he scrambled for the companionway and a breath of outer air. "Of all the smells I ever smelled that's the worst!"
"What have you broken, Rick?" asked Bonny, anxiously, thrusting his head down the companionway. He had been curiously reading the unfamiliar labels on the various jars, pots, and bottles, and now fancied that his crew had slipped down the steep steps with some of these in his arms.
"Whew! but it's strong!" he continued, as the penetrating fumes greeted his nostrils. "Is it the truffles or the pate grass or the cheese?"
"I'm afraid," replied Alaric, sadly, as he slowly rose from the cabin floor and thrust a cautious hand into one of his hip pockets, "that it is a bottle of eau-de-Cologne."
"Cologne!" cried Bonny, incredulously, as he caught the word. "If these foreign kinds of grub are put up in Cologne, it's no wonder that I never heard of them before. Why, it's poison, that's what it is, and nothing less. Shall I heave the rest of the truck overboard, sir?"
"Hold on!" cried Alaric, emerging with rueful face from the cabin in time to catch this suggestion. "It isn't in them. It was in my pocket all by itself."
"I wish it had staid there, and you'd gone to Halifax with it afore ever ye brought the stuff aboard this ship!" thundered the Captain. "Avast, ye lubber! Don't come anigh me. Go out on the dock and air yourself."
So the unhappy lad, his clothing saturated with cologne, betook himself to the wharf, where, as he slowly walked up and down, filling the air with perfume, he carefully removed bits of broken glass from his moist pocket, and disgustedly flung them overboard.
While he was thus engaged, the first mate, under the Captain's personal supervision, was fumigating the cabin by burning in it a bunch of oakum over which was scattered a small quantity of tobacco. When the atmosphere of the place was thus so nearly restored to its normal condition that Captain Duff could again endure it, Bonny finished stowing the supplies, and then turned his attention to preparing supper.
Meanwhile Alaric had been joined in his lonely promenade by a stranger, who, with a curious expression on his face as he drew near the lad, changed his position so as to get on the windward side, and then began a conversation.
"Fine evening," he said.
"Is it?" asked Alaric, moodily.
"I think so. Do you belong on that sloop? Where does she run to from here?"
"The Sound," answered Alaric, shortly.
"What does she carry?"
"Passengers and cargo."
"Indeed? And may I ask what sort of a cargo?"
"You may."
"Well, then, what sort?" persisted the stranger.
"Chinks and dope," returned Alaric, glancing up with the expectation of seeing a look of bewilderment on his questioner's face. But the latter only said:
"Um! About what I thought. Paying business, isn't it?"
"If it wasn't we wouldn't be in it," replied the boy.
"No, I suppose not; and it must pay big since it enables even the cabin-boy to drench himself with perfumery."
Ere Alaric could reply the stranger was walking rapidly away, and Bonny was calling him to supper.
The first mate apologized for serving this meal on deck, but that Captain Duff objected to the crew's presence at his table on this occasion. "So," said Bonny, "I told him he might eat alone, then, for I should come out here and eat with you."
"I hope he will always feel the same way," retorted Alaric, "for it doesn't seem as though I could possibly stay in that cabin long enough to eat a meal."
"Oh, I guess you could," laughed Bonny. "Anyway, it will be all right by breakfast-time, for the smell is nearly gone now. But I say, Rick Dale, what an awfully funny fellow you are anyway! What made you pay for all that truck? It must have taken every cent you had."
"So it did," replied Alaric. "But what of that? It was the easiest way to smooth things over that I knew of."
"It wouldn't have been for me, then," rejoined Bonny, "for I haven't handled a dollar in so long that it would scare me to find one in my pocket. But why didn't you let them take back the things we didn't need?"
"Because, having ordered them, we were bound to accept them, and I thought we needed them all. I'm awfully tired of such things myself, but I didn't know you were."
"What, olives and mushrooms and truffles, and the rest of the things with queer names? I never tasted one of them in my life, and don't believe the Captain did, either."
"That seems odd," reflected Alaric.
"Doesn't it?" responded Bonny, quizzically. "And that cologne, too. What ever made you buy it?"
"I don't know exactly. Because I happened to see it, I suppose, and thought it would be a useful thing to have along. A little of it is nice in your bath, you know, or to put on your handkerchief when you have a headache."
"My stars!" exclaimed Bonny. "Listen to that, will you? Why, Rick, to hear you talk, one would think you were a prince in disguise, or a bloated aristocrat!"
"Well, I'm not," answered Alaric, shortly. "I'm only a sailor on board the sloop Fancy, who has just eaten a fine supper and enjoyed it."
"Have you, really?" asked the other, dubiously. "It didn't seem to me that just coffee without any milk, hard bread, and fried salt pork were very fine, and I was afraid that perhaps you wouldn't like 'em."
"I do, though," insisted Alaric. "You see, I never tasted any of those things before, and they are first class."
"Well," said Bonny, "I don't think much of such grub, and I've had it for more than a year, too; but then every one to his liking. Now I've got to notify our passengers, for we sail to-night. You may come with me and learn the ropes if you want to."
"But we haven't any cargo aboard," objected Alaric.
"Oh, that won't take long. A few minutes will fix the cargo all right."
Alaric wondered what sort of a cargo could be taken aboard in a few minutes, but concluded to wait and see.
Soon both lads went ashore and walked up into the town. Although it was now evening, Bonny did not seek the well-lighted business streets, but made his way to what struck Alaric as a peculiarly disreputable neighborhood. The houses were small and dingy, and their windows were so closely shuttered that no ray of light issued from them.
At length they paused before a low door, on which Bonny rapped in a peculiar manner. It was cautiously opened by a man who held a dim lamp over his head, and who evidently regarded them with suspicion. He was reassured by a few words from the young mate; the door was closed behind them, and, with the stranger leading the way, while Alaric, filled with curiosity, brought up the rear, all three entered a narrow and very dark passage, the air of which was close and stifling.
[to be continued.]
THE SPEEDWAY AS IT IS TO-DAY, LOOKING TOWARD HIGH BRIDGE.