“I’ve got no money, I know,” he thought, “at least, not much; but I’ve health and strength and an ordinary amount of pluck, and it will be strange if I can’t accomplish my purpose if the old brig only holds together long enough.”
He looked at the soiled card the sailor had given him.
“‘New England Hotel, Water Street,’” he repeated. “Some sailors’ boarding house, likely. I believe—yes, I will—go to New York myself and see this scoundrelly Wetherbee again. He can’t do much without me, I fancy, and perhaps, after all, I can use him to my own benefit. I ought to be as smart as an ignorant old sailor like him.”
He stood still a moment, gazing steadily at the ground.
“I’ll do it, I vow I will!” he exclaimed at last, raising his head defiantly. “Uncle Arad’s got no hold upon me and I’ll go. I’ll start tomorrow morning,” with which determination he picked up his rifle and left the woods.
CHAPTER V
UNCLE ARAD HAS RECOURSE TO LEGAL FORCE
In the several oceans of our great globe there are many floating wrecks, abandoned for various causes by their crews, which may float on and on, without rudder or sail, for months, and even years. Especially is this true of the North Atlantic Ocean, where, during the past five years, nearly a thousand “derelicts,” as these floating wrecks are called, were reported.
The Hydrographic Office at Washington prints a monthly chart on which all the derelicts reported by incoming vessels are plainly marked, even their position in the water being designated by a little picture of the wreck.
By this method of “keeping run” of the wrecks, it has been found that some float thousands of miles before they finally reach their ultimate port—Davy Jones’ locker.
The average life of these water logged hulks is, however, but thirty days; otherwise the danger from collision with them would be enormous and the loss of life great. Many of those vessels which have left port within the past few years and never again been heard from, were doubtless victims of collisions with some of these derelicts.