“We don’t like to take strangers, who haven’t any baggage,” continued the man; “they sometimes step out very suddenly, without settling their bills.”
“If you are afraid to trust me, I can pay you in advance,” replied Jerry, who began to fear he should have to seek further for lodgings.
“O, never mind that,” said the clerk; “you look honest enough; and as you’re fresh from the country, I aint afraid to trust you. Put your name in that book,” he continued, handing Jerry a pen, and placing a large book on the counter.
This book was the register of the house, and each guest who stopped there recorded in it his name and place of residence. Jerry wrote his name as well as he could,—which is not saying a great deal,—and then inquired if he could not have something to eat. The clerk replied in the affirmative; and, in a little while, Jerry was summoned into another room, where he found a good supper provided, of which he ate with a keen relish after his long fast. Having finished his meal, he told the clerk he was tired, and should like to go to bed. The latter gave a pull at a cord and tassel, which rang a bell in another part of the house. A servant quickly answered the summons, and was directed to show Jerry to No. 69. Following the servant, Jerry passed through several narrow entries, and ascended four long flights of stairs, and turned more corners than he could remember, before he reached his sleeping-room. It was a small room, and had but a few plain articles of furniture. Jerry was too tired, however, to give much attention to these things. He was soon in bed, and sleeping as soundly as though under his father’s roof.
CHAPTER XI.
BOSTON.
The sun, streaming in from the window, awoke Jerry from his slumbers, after his first night in Boston. On getting up he found that his room was higher than the surrounding buildings, affording an extensive prospect. One of the first objects that met his eye he concluded must be Bunker Hill Monument, as it resembled the engravings he had seen of that structure. There were a great many church-steeples in sight, and the houses seemed to be crowded together almost as close as they could be packed. He could also see a strip of water, with numerous vessels, one or two of which were very large, noble-looking ships. These last were men-of-war, belonging to the American Government, and were anchored off the Navy-Yard at Charlestown.
But Jerry did not stop to gaze long at the novel scene spread before him. Other matters claimed his attention. As he dressed himself he began to consider what he should do next. He was acquainted with but one family in the place,—that of his uncle,—and he did not dare to go to them, lest they should send him back to his home. If Oscar had only been at home, he would have lost no time in seeing him; but he knew, from letters received by his parents, that his wayward cousin had gone to sea, several months before. A stranger, in a great city, with no one to advise or assist, and cast entirely upon his own resources, it must be confessed that Jerry felt rather dull, that morning. And yet he did not wish to return to his home, and his greatest fear was that his friends would discover where he was. He thought it would not be safe to stay long in Boston, and so he determined to try at once to get a chance to go to sea—a design on which he had set his heart, before he started from home.
Jerry’s reflections were interrupted by the ringing of a large bell, in the entry below, and thinking it might be the summons to breakfast, he went down. Following the current of men and women, he found himself in a large hall, in which a long table was spread. The man with whom he had the conversation the night before, was there, and beckoned him to a chair at the table. There were thirty or forty persons at the table, and the rattling of dishes, the clatter of knives and forks, and the low hum of conversation, soon commenced in good earnest. Some six or eight young men, in slippers and jackets, and wearing small white aprons, were continually flying back and forth, behind the boarders, bringing cups of tea and coffee, and passing dishes to those who could not reach them. Sometimes half a dozen persons would order as many different things, of the same waiter, almost at the same moment, and Jerry thought the man must be puzzled to know which to get first; but in a minute he would return, and hand to each the article which he ordered. The skill which these men acquire in their business, by practice, is often quite remarkable to one unaccustomed to the sight.
The company did not all leave the table at once, but one or two at a time, just as they happened to finish their meal. Jerry having eaten all he desired, arose and went to the office. The clerk of the hotel entered, soon after, and Jerry took the opportunity to pay his bill, which amounted to seventy-five cents. With his bundle in hand, he now started off, with the design of shipping for a voyage, or, if he could not do this, of procuring a cheap boarding place, where he might remain until he could find a chance to go to sea.
The streets were full of people, who all seemed intent on going somewhere, as fast as possible. Jerry, as he slowly passed along toward the point where he had seen the ships from his chamber window, was jostled first on one side and then on the other, and it required no little effort to dodge the current which was sweeping by him. This was partly because he did not keep to the right side of the walk, as is the usual custom in cities, but turned sometimes to the left, and sometimes to the right, and sometimes took the centre. Few of the persons he met seemed to take any notice of him. Two boys, however, whose dress was better than their manners, stopped almost directly in front of him, and stared at him until he passed by, with a comical expression on their faces. A loud laugh, and the expression, “Aint he green, Sam!” which reached the ears of Jerry, immediately after, explained their conduct.