CHAPTER III.
TOM GOES TO SEA.
TOM, having managed to get safely through his arithmetic lesson, put his book away in his desk, and again sauntered out on the lawn, where he threw himself under one of the trees, and thought over his hard lot in life. Study hours being over for the day, he was now at liberty to amuse himself about home in any way he chose; but, as was generally the case with him, he was at a loss to know how to pass the time until dark. He never took a book of any description in his hands if he could avoid it. Reading, he thought, was a very dull, uninteresting way of passing the time. He never looked at a newspaper, and if some one had asked him the name of the President of the United States, it would have been a question that he could not answer. As for play, he never saw any fun in that, but he was as ready to engage in any kind of mischief as any boy in the village.
Newport, like every other place, had its two “sets” of boys, who went by the names of “Spooneys” and “Night-hawks.” The former were, in fact, the good boys of the village. They played foot-ball on the common until dark, and then went home and stayed there. With these Tom rarely had intercourse. On two or three occasions he had mustered up energy enough to engage in a game of ball with them, and each time he came home crying, and complaining that “the boys played too rough,” and that “some fellow had shoved him down in the dirt.” The fact was, Tom did not like these boys, because he could not be their leader. They could all beat him running; the smallest boy on the common could kick a foot-ball further than he could; and, in choosing the sides for the game, Tom was always the last one taken. The reason for this was that Tom, besides being a very poor player, never entered into the sport as though he had any life about him. He was very much afraid of soiling his clothes, or getting dust on his boots; and this was so different from the wild, rollicking ways of his playmates, that they soon learned to despise him; and, if Tom was now and then pushed into the mud during the excitement of the game, no one pitied him or stopped to help him out.
But with the Night-hawks—those that took possession of the common at dark—Tom was a great favorite. They knew how to manage him. He was easily duped, and, if the boys wished to engage in any mischief, Tom was generally the one selected to do the work, for he made an excellent “cat’s-paw.” A few words of flattery would completely blind him, and, not unfrequently, call forth a display of recklessness that made every body wonder. If the Night-hawks wished to remove the doctor’s sign, and place it in front of a millinery store, or if they wished to fasten a string across the sidewalk, to knock off the hats of those that passed by, one of them would say to Tom: “Now, Newcombe, you do it. You are the strongest and bravest fellow in the party. You are not afraid of any thing.” These words never failed to have the desired effect; for Tom would instantly volunteer his services in any scheme the Night-hawks had to propose. Any mischief that was done, anywhere within two miles of the village, was laid to these boys; but had the matter been investigated, it would have been discovered that Tom was the guilty one, for he did all the work, while his companions stood at a safe distance and looked on.
Of course Mr. Newcombe knew nothing of this. His orders to Tom were to remain in the yard after dark; but the latter regarded this as another deliberate abridgment of his privileges. The merchant often said that there was something in the night air particularly injurious to the morals of boys, but Tom did not believe it. He did not like to remain in the house while other boys were out enjoying themselves. However, he always promised obedience to his father’s commands, while, perhaps, at that very moment he was studying up some plan by which he might be able to evade them, and was revolving in his mind some scheme for mischief which he intended to propose to the Night-hawks that evening. Mr. Newcombe was a shrewd business man; he could calculate the rise and fall of the produce market to a nicety, but he was not shrewd enough to discover that Tom, in spite of the readiness with which he promised obedience to all his requirements, was deceiving him every night of his life. Perhaps he thought that Tom would not dare to disobey him; or he may have imagined that he was a boy of too high principle; but, whatever may have been his thoughts, he never troubled himself about his son after giving him orders to remain in the yard, and Tom, having always escaped detection, grew bolder by degrees, until, at last, he became the acknowledged leader of the Night-hawks. He would rack his brain for days and weeks to perfect some plan for mischief, and follow it up with a patience and perseverance which, if exhibited in the line of study, would have placed him at the head of his class in a month. He was willing to work harder to obtain the approbation of a dozen young rogues like the Night-hawks, than to gain that knowledge that would enable him to be of some use in the world.
On the evening in question, Tom was sadly troubled with the “blues.” He was almost discouraged, for several things had “happened to bother him” during the day, and among them was the very disheartening piece of news which the fisher-boy had communicated to him. If it was true—and sometimes Tom almost believed that it was, for that would be “just his luck”—he knew that he must do one of two things—either abandon the idea of becoming a sailor, or pay more attention to his books. If there had been any alternative, Tom would certainly have discovered it, for he was very expert in finding a way out of a difficulty. But now, either his good fortune, in this respect, had deserted him, or else he was in a predicament from which there was no escape, for he lay thinking under the trees for nearly an hour, and finally answered the summons to supper without having been able to discover a way out of his quandary.
Tom ate his supper in silence, and so did Mr. Newcombe, who was pondering upon the same subject that was at that moment occupying his son’s mind.
The result of the recitation that afternoon had convinced the merchant that something ought to be done. Tom was making no progress whatever in his studies. He had been under the charge of his private teacher for nearly six weeks, and he had not yet completed the first rule of his arithmetic. The reason for this was, that Tom had been so long in the habit of dreaming, that any thing like study or work, had become distasteful to him. The question was, how to arouse him—how to convince him that if he ever expected to be any body in the world, he must work for it. This could not be done by keeping him at his books, for that plan had been repeatedly tried, and had as often failed. He did not want to send him to the military school, or allow him to go to sea; for he knew that Tom would not be contented in either place. But something must be done; and, after thinking the matter over calmly, the merchant finally decided upon his course. He said nothing, however, during the meal, to Tom, who, when he had finished his supper, hunted up his cap, went out of the house, and walked down the lawn toward the beach, where his sail-boat, which he called the Mystery, lay at her anchorage. He had started with the intention of taking a sail; but, on second thought, he knew that he could not enjoy it, for his troubles weighed too heavily on his mind. He therefore abandoned the idea, and seating himself on the grass, pondered upon what the fisher-boy had told him, and, for the hundredth time, wondered what he should do next.