“Dear Mother:—It is so short a time since I left home that you may suppose I will have nothing to write; but I find things very different in the city from what they are in Vernon. You will be surprised when I tell you that I have just sold a lot of spices for ten thousand dollars. Mr. Fairchild was out, and told me what price to ask. We don’t keep the goods we sell here. I don’t know where they are kept yet; but I shall learn more about the business when I have been here longer. The commission which Mr. Fairchild gets on the sale I made amounts to two hundred dollars; so I think I have earned my wages so far, don’t you?
“I think I shall like Mr. Fairchild. He seems disposed to be kind to me, and has said something about taking me into partnership some time, if I suit him. I shall try hard to do so, as that would bring me a very large income, and I could do a great deal for you, dear mother, and little Katy. If you should see our place of business, you would be surprised that so large a business could be done here. It is only a small room, and not very pleasant. I felt disappointed at first, but I begin to understand better now how they manage in the city. I was disappointed in Mr. Fairchild, also. He does not seem to care much about dress, considering how rich he is, and what a splendid business he does. He has introduced me to a sea-captain of his acquaintance, who has invited me to go on board his vessel to-morrow. I shall like it, as I never was on a ship. Most of my time is spent in copying from a ledger. I don’t know yet where I am to board; Mr. Fairchild has not told me, but I will try to write you again to-morrow, and let you know all about it. I wish you were living here in the city, so that I could board with you. That will come some time, I hope. I close with much love to you and Katy.
“Your affectionate son,
“Harry Raymond.”
This letter gave great comfort to Mrs. Raymond. She felt that, though Harry was separated from her at present, he had embarked upon a prosperous business career, and that better times were in store for both. Poor woman! it was the last letter she received from Harry for many a long, tedious day.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FIRST NIGHT IN THE CITY.
Probably the reader has noticed, with some surprise, that Mr. Fairchild addressed his sailor confederate as Captain Brandon, and may have thought the name wrongly applied. But by a lucky accident, as he termed it, he had been unexpectedly elevated to the chief command of the vessel on which he was about to sail. Captain Hatch, who had been expected to fill this place, was a good sailor, but addicted to intemperate habits. In a fit of intoxication only two days previous, he had got into a fracas, and been so severely injured that it was found necessary to send him to the hospital, where he was likely to be detained some time. Meantime the Sea Eagle was all ready to sail, and the owners, without knowing much of Hartley Brandon, who had been engaged as first mate, offered him the captain’s place, which it is needless to say he accepted with alacrity. It was a position which for years he had striven to obtain, but until now unsuccessfully. So far as seamanship was concerned, he was as well fitted for the place as many who had filled it for years; but he was reckless and unreliable, and disposed at times to be despotic, so that he had never been popular with the crews which he had commanded as officer. However, there was little to choose, and to this fact he was indebted for his present post.
Lemuel Fairchild was a seedy adventurer, whom he had engaged for a small consideration to play the part of a commission merchant, in order to draw Harry to the city, where there would be an opportunity to carry out his, or rather Squire Turner’s, intentions, with regard to him. Of course, all the large business transactions were bogus, the parties pretending to purchase cargoes being intimates of Fairchild. The office in Nassau Street had been hired for a week only, as that would be sufficient for Brandon’s purpose. The ledger, out of which our hero was employed to copy, had formerly belonged to a business house now bankrupt, and had been bought cheap of a paper firm in Ann Street, whither it had found its way among the waste which is diligently gathered by the squalid army of rag-pickers, that usually prowl about the streets, and explore the lanes and alleys of the great metropolis.