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IX.
ON BOARD

At the close of the last chapter we had got our hero fairly on board the Bouncing Betsey, on what he supposed to be a brief visit, but which his companion had resolved should be far otherwise.

Randall did not at first undeceive his youthful attendant. He felt that it would hardly be polite, as the ship was lying at the wharf surrounded by other vessels, and the disturbance and vigorous resistance which Charlie would be apt to make when told what was in store for him might attract a degree of attention which might prove fatal to his plans.

They had scarcely set their feet upon deck, when they encountered Captain Brace.

The mate glanced significantly at the boy by his side, and carelessly put his finger to his lips in token of silence, at the same time saying, "A lad whom I have promised to initiate into some of the mysteries of seamanship."

"He may find the knowledge useful to him some time," said the captain, with a grim smile. "Do you think you should like going to sea, my lad?"

"No, sir," returned Charlie, promptly, "I don't think I should."

"Why not?"

"I should get tired of seeing the sea all the time."

"You would get used to it."

"I never should like it so well as the land. Besides, I should not like to leave my mother."

"Well, my lad, if you should ever change your mind," said the captain, with a wicked glance at Randall, "I hope you'll give me the first offer of your services."

"Yes, sir," said our hero, thinking the captain very affable and polite, though, to be sure, his appearance was hardly as prepossessing as it might have been.

"The captain seems to be a very nice man," said he to Randall, after that officer had left them.

"Oh, yes," answered Randall, dryly, "a very fine man the captain is. I'm glad you like him."

"Have you been to sea a long time?" inquired Charlie.

"Yes, I have been ever since I was a boy."

"Do you like it?"

"Very much. It seems like home to me now. I shouldn't be willing to live on land for any length of time."

"Did you begin very young?"

"I was about sixteen. How old are you?"

"Almost fourteen. I shall be fourteen next month."

"You are a very good size for your age."

"Yes," said Charlie, with boyish pride, drawing himself up to his full height. Like most boys, he liked to be told he was large of his age.

"My father was quite a large man," added our young hero.

"I know it," muttered Randall to himself, as the handsome face and manly form of the father rose before him. They were imprinted more vividly upon his memory, because he felt that it was these very advantages which had enabled his rival to succeed in winning the prize for which he had vainly contended.

"Did you speak?" said Charlie, hearing indistinctly the words which his companion muttered.

"No," said Randall, shortly. "But I promised to show you something about the vessel. I suppose you know the names of the masts."

"Yes, sir."

"What do they call this?"

"This is the main-mast," answered Charlie, promptly, "and the others are called the fore-mast and mizzen-mast."

"That is right; I suppose the masts seem high to you."

"Yes, very high," said Charlie, stretching his neck to enable him to see the top.

"Then you don't think you should like to go aloft?" said Randall, playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse.

"I don't believe I could. It would make me dizzy."

"You could do better than you think for, if you were obliged to."

"Perhaps I might," said Charlie, doubtfully. "Do the boys on board ship have to go up there?"

"I had to when I was a boy."

"Wer'n't you afraid?"

"I suppose I was, but that didn't do any good,—I had to go."

"Wer'n't you afraid of losing your hold?"

"Yes, but it isn't often a boy loses his hold going up the first time. He is so frightened that he clings to the ropes with a pretty tight grip. But after he gets used to it—and it doesn't seem any worse than going up stairs—he is apt to grow careless, and then there is sometimes an accident."

"Then I suppose they fall on deck and are instantly killed," said Charlie, shuddering.

"Not always, for when the ship is in progress it leans a good deal, so that they are more likely to fall overboard."

"And get drowned!"

"Sometimes. They can't always keep up till assistance comes, especially if they can't swim. Sometimes their fall is broken by the rigging, and they manage to save themselves by catching hold."

They visited other parts of the ship, and Randall continued his explanations. The sailors were all on board, at work in various ways. They did not appear to notice the mate and his young companion when they passed, but Charlie, chancing to look behind him, observed one making a significant gesture to another, which evidently referred to them.

Our young hero mentally thought this not very polite, but did not pay much attention to it.

About this time a porter arrived from the clothing-store already referred to, bringing a small blue chest.

"This is the ship Bouncing Betsey, isn't it?" he inquired.

"Yes," answered one of the sailors.

"I was told to bring this chest here, then."

"Who is it for?"

"Jack Randall."

"That's the mate, you lubber. Why don't you put a handle to his name?"

"No, it's for a boy."

"We haven't got any such boy aboard as I knows on."

"There ain't two ships of this name, are there?"

"Not as I ever heerd tell."

"Then this must be the ship. Where shall I stow this chest? I've got tired of bringing it on my back."

"You'd better go and speak to the mate about it. There he stands. Mayhap that's the boy the kit belongs to."

The porter walked forward.

"Does this belong to you?" he asked, laying down the chest.

"Yes."

"Then it wasn't for a boy?"

"Yes," answered the mate, carelessly. "It is for a nephew of mine who is going with us this voyage."

"Is that the young gentleman?" asked the porter, pointing to Charlie.

"He thinks you're my nephew," said Randall, smiling. "A good joke, isn't it?"

"This young gentleman is only looking about the ship a little," he answered. "He don't think he should fancy going to sea."

"Beg pardon, I didn't know but he might be the one."

"Oh, no, certainly not."

"Shall I leave the chest here?"

"Yes, anywhere. No, you may carry it below. Here," summoning one of the sailors, "Show this man where to put this chest."

"So your nephew is going to sea," said Charlie, with some curiosity.

"Yes."

"Does he think he shall like to go?"

"I don't believe he thinks much about it."

"How large a boy is he?"

"I should think he was about as large as you. Yes, come to think of it, I don't believe there can be any difference between you."

The joke was a cruel one, as Charlie found to his cost, before long.

"Is he on board now?"

"I don't see him," said the mate, looking in the opposite direction from where Charlie was standing. "But I think he will be on board very soon. Were you ever dressed in sailor's clothes?"

"Never," said our hero.

"I wonder how you would look. You are just about my nephew's size. Have you any objection to trying on his clothes?"

Charlie had not. In fact he was rather curious to learn how he should look in this unusual attire. Accordingly he went below, and was soon dressed in full sailor rig. It was a very good fit, and very becoming to our hero, who was a remarkably handsome boy.

"A good fit, is it not?" asked the mate.

"Excellent," said Charlie.

"One would almost think the clothes were meant for you," said Randall, with a smile, which Charlie did not understand.

X.
CHARLIE IN A TIGHT PLACE

Charlie surveyed himself in his new attire with some complacency. He felt that it was becoming, and it gave him a new feeling of manliness. In fact it seemed to him, for the time being, as if he were really a sailor. Charlie, however, though he was very well pleased with his sailor's rig, did not feel in the least tempted to wear it professionally. Accordingly, after the survey was over, he began to divest himself of it.

"What are you doing?" asked the mate, laying his hand heavily upon the shoulder of our young hero.

"Taking off your nephew's clothes," returned Charlie, looking up in considerable surprise at the tone in which he was addressed.

"What's that for?"

"To put on my own."

"Then you needn't trouble yourself," said Randall, composedly; "those you have on are your own."

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie meeting the mate's triumphant look with an open, manly glance.

"I mean," said Randall, with a sardonic look, "that the clothes were bought for the one who now wears them."

"Bought for me!" exclaimed Charlie, in great bewilderment.

"Yes. You wondered how they happened to fit you so well. That is easily explained. They were picked out on purpose for you. The old Jew in the clothing-store took your measure with his eye while you were standing there with me. Faith, he's got a pretty sharp eye."

"But your nephew?" said Charlie, his heart sinking, as he began to comprehend the plot to which he had fallen a victim; "I thought you said they belonged to him."

"Well," said Randall, with a harsh laugh, "you're my nephew."

"I am not," said Charlie, with something of haughtiness in his tone, as he surveyed the mate scornfully.

"He's got his mother's look," muttered the latter. "That's the way she looked when she sent me about my business. She'd look something different, I fancy, if she knew I'd got her boy in my power. I've got the whip-hand of her now, and she'll live yet to repent the day she rejected Jack Randall."

These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, and did not prevent his answering at once Charlie's bold denial.

"There's a little too much pride about you, youngster. It'll need taming down. You're to be my nephew while you're aboard this ship. Remember, your name is Jack Randall. Take care that you claim no other."

"What good will that do?" said Charlie. "I am not going to remain on board."

"You're not, eh?" said the mate, significantly.

"No," said Charlie, boldly.

"Suppose I say you shall."

"Then," said Charlie, firmly, "I say you are mistaken."

Our hero was a boy of spirit, and had no idea of being disposed of without his own consent. He commenced tugging away at his blue jacket with the intention of pulling it off.

"What are you doing?" asked Randall, with a frown, advancing and laying a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Haven't I told you to keep those clothes on?"

"You have no right to interfere with me," said Charlie, stoutly, his eye flashing with indignation. "Give me back my clothes."

"You can't have them. If you strip off those you have on you'll have to go without any."

Exasperated, Charlie made a spring forward, and attempted to wrest his clothes from the hands of the mate.

"Ha, my fine fellow!" exclaimed Randall, as, evading the boy's grasp, he lifted them beyond his reach. "So you are inclined to be mutinous, are you? Very well, we have a remedy for all such cases, and a very simple one it is."

So saying, he drew a stout cord from his pocket, and advanced towards our hero with the intention of binding him.

Charlie sprang for the stairs, and was half way up before the mate caught him and dragged him back.

"Well, boy, you're a pretty tough customer—true grit. You're just the boy to make a sailor of. I must make sure of you."

So saying, he succeeded, in spite of Charlie's vigorous exertions, in tying his hands and feet. Not until thus rendered quite helpless did the brave boy suffer himself to burst into tears.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.

"I am going to make a sailor of you," answered the mate.

"But I don't want to go to sea," answered Charlie.

"So you said once before, but you'll change your mind before long."

"My mother will not know where I am. She can't get along without me, for she depends upon me in part for support."

"I dare say she'll get along somehow," said Randall, coolly. "She won't miss you much, and she ought to feel glad that your uncle has taken charge of you."

"Uncle!" retorted the boy, with flashing eyes. "I wouldn't own you as uncle for all the money in Boston."

"You wouldn't!" said Randall, his tone changing, and a dark look overspreading his face. "Very well, my bold lad, you may have reason to repent those words. You may find out by and by that it is as well to be civil to your superior officer. I will do nothing about it now, but when we are out of port and fairly at sea, look out!"

Charlie, who was quick-witted, caught a hint from these words, and at once set up a scream, hoping to draw attention from outside.

"That's your game, is it?" said the mate. "We'll soon stop that."

So saying, he drew out the boy's own handkerchief, and gagged him so that there was no further fear of his being able to make any disturbance which could be heard on the wharf or on neighboring vessels.

Feeling now secure, he left Charlie mute and helpless, and ascended to the deck.

"What was the noise I heard below, Mr. Randall?" asked the captain, pausing in his walk, and addressing his first officer.

"My nephew!" said Randall, with a smile.

"Ha! he is a little obstreperous, is he?"

"A trifle so."

"Doesn't like the society of his uncle sufficiently to want to go to sea with him, I suppose?"

"I dare say he would like to change his quarters," said Randall, composedly.

"How did you reconcile him to his fate?"

"A couple of strong cords and a gag did the business. They will keep him quiet till we get out to sea, and then perhaps we can discover some other means of bringing him to terms."

"A slightly different application of the cords, perhaps, Mr. Randall."

The mate smiled approval of this jest, and as his services were now in requisition to expedite preparations for departure, he left the captain and went about his duty.

Meanwhile the mate's conduct had not been unobserved by the crew. Among these was an old sailor who rejoiced in the name of Bill Sturdy. It is needless to say that this was not his real name. No one appeared to know what his real name was, and he had become so used to this, that he generally called himself so. The name Sturdy had probably been given him on account of his sturdy make. He was stout and very powerful. Probably there were no two men on board the ship who would not have felt some hesitation in attacking Bill Sturdy.

It may be added that the name was no less appropriate if we consider it bestowed on account of his character and disposition. He was unpolished enough, having beaten about the world all his life, yet he had been gifted by nature with a fund of sturdy common sense and powers of observation which made him more thoughtful and intelligent than most of his class. He had a kind heart, and hated to see oppression. This was his first voyage on board the Bouncing Betsey; the ship on which he had last served having been wrecked, and he with a few others having, with difficulty, saved themselves. Since he had engaged on board the Betsey, the stories he had heard of the captain's brutality led him to repent of his determination, and he had resolved within himself to remain on board but a single voyage.

He had had his attention drawn to our hero and the mate, and he observed that the latter came up alone from below.

"That's a trim, handsome little lad," he said to himself; "I wonder what the mate is so attentive to him for. There's some deviltry in the wind, as sure as my name is Bill Sturdy. I hope, for the boy's sake, he isn't going to ship with us. If he does. I must do what I can for him, for I mistrust he'll want a friend."

XI.
OFF TO SEA

The thoughts of our young hero as he lay helpless, gagged and bound, were hardly of the most cheerful character. The blow had been so sudden, that he was quite unprepared for it. Added to this, his apprehensions were vague and indefinite. There seemed something mysterious about the manner in which he had been spirited away, and this thought increased his feeling of discomfort. A danger which can be measured and comprehended in its full extent may be boldly faced, however great, but when we are ignorant of its nature and extent that is not so easy.

Charlie understood as much as this, that it was the intention of Randall to carry him off to sea. But why he should have taken such pains to ensnare him, when there are always plenty of boys glad to obtain such a situation, he could not conceive.

Charlie was no coward. He was no stranger to the bold spirit of adventure by which boys of his age are apt to be animated. Indeed, under different circumstances, and if the arrangement had been of his own free choice, it is quite possible that he might have looked forward with pleasurable anticipations to the life that awaited him. But there was one thought uppermost in his mind that gave him no little pain and anxiety, the thought of his mother. He was her all. In the large and busy city she knew but very few; she had none whom she could call friends. Her hopes were all centred in him. Still farther, it was in a great measure owing to his activity and industry that she had been able to live with a degree of comfort, for though she was always at work, the avenues of industry open to women are few, and toil at the needle is so unsatisfactorily compensated that Charlie, though working fewer hours, was able to contribute considerably more than half of the sum required for their joint support.

How would his mother get along during his absence, the length of which he could not estimate? Would she suffer not only in mind but in bodily discomfort? Well he remembered how pleasantly the evenings had passed when they were together. Now there must be a long separation. Would he ever see his mother again? She would not be able to retain their present lodging, now that the entire rent would fall to her to pay. Perhaps when he did he should be unable to obtain any clew to her whereabouts. This was indeed a terrible thought to poor Charlie, who chafed like a caged lion in his confinement. He endeavored to unloose the cords which bound him, but with little prospect of success; for no one better than a sailor understands the art of tying a knot securely.

While Charlie was doing his utmost to free himself from the cords that bound him, having already removed the gag, he was startled by a low laugh of triumphant malice.

Looking up, he saw the mate, the author of all his misfortunes, watching him with great apparent enjoyment.

"Ah, Jack," he said, "I see you are hard at work. Work away. If you untie those knots you've got more skilful fingers than the one that tied them, that's all."

"Come and release me," said Charlie. "You have no right to keep me here."

"You are mistaken," said the mate, coolly. "I have the best of all rights."

"And what right is that?" demanded our hero.

"The right of power!" answered Randall. "Might makes right, perhaps you have heard."

"How long are you going to keep me here?" asked Charlie, after a pause.

"Till we get far enough out to sea to make it safe to release you."

Charlie kept silence. He felt that it would be useless to appeal to the mercy of the mate, who appeared bent upon carrying him away. He turned his face resolutely away from Randall, for whom he began to entertain a stronger feeling of dislike than he had supposed himself capable of feeling. Hitherto he had only been accustomed to an atmosphere of affection, and though he had met with some rebuffs in his daily search for employment, he could always return at night to a home and a mother, with whom he could forget whatever had been disagreeable during the day. Now his position was entirely changed. The only one he knew on board the vessel was one whom he had no reason to believe friendly, but very much the reverse.

By this time the noise upon deck, which he could hear plainly, had become greater and greater. He could hear frequent orders given by the captain, and also by the mate, who had now returned to his post.

Soon the vessel, which had been at rest, appeared to be moving. He could hear the plashing of the water against its sides. He felt that it was in motion, slow at first, but afterwards more rapid. He conjectured that the ship was being towed out to sea by a steam-tug.

He wished that at least he could get to a window, and catch a last glimpse of the land to which he was about to bid so unexpected a farewell. But this, tied hand and foot as he was, was impossible, and he felt that now it would do him no good even if he should succeed in breaking his bonds. Already they were speeding out to sea as fast as the tug could convey them. There was no redress or help for him beyond the limits of the vessel in which his tyrants exercised absolute control, for he felt well assured that Captain Brace was in league with the mate, or, at all events, would interpose his authority to support Randall in his plans.

So time sped on, the ship continuing all the while in steady motion.

At length the tug left them and returned to the city, leaving the vessel to shift for itself. Although Charlie could not see what was going on, he judged this from the noise and shouts of command given above, to which he listened with sharpened attention.

Charlie felt that with the departure of the steam-tug all possibility of escape had passed. The last link which had bound him to the shore had been snapped asunder.

While he was plunged in sorrowful thought he suddenly heard a step descending the stairs.

Thinking it was the mate, of whom he felt that he should see in future much more than he cared, he did not turn his head.

"Hallo, my lad," was the salutation of the new-comer, in a rough, but hearty voice, "how came you in this trim?"

It was not the mate's harsh voice. Quickly turning round, Charlie's eyes rested on the bronzed but good-humored face of Bill Sturdy, the stout sailor to whom reference has already been made. Whatever may be thought of physiognomy as an index of character, it is undeniable that we are either attracted to or repelled from certain faces.

Now the first sight of Bill Sturdy's honest and good-humored face seemed to Charlie like a ray of light in a dark place. He felt that he was a man to be trusted.

"Will you be a friend to me?" asked Charlie, with instinctive confidence.

"That I will, my lad," exclaimed Bill, with hearty emphasis; "but tell me who tied you up in this fashion?"

"His name is Randall, and I believe he is the mate."

"The lubberly rascal! And what did he do that for?"

"He entrapped me on board the vessel, and now he is carrying me out to sea, against my will."

"How came you in your sailor's rig?" asked Sturdy.

Charlie explained the trick which had been practised upon him, which Bill Sturdy denounced in good set terms, though possibly more strong than refined.

"He's a rascal; there ain't a doubt of that," said Bill. "I should like to overhaul him, and teach him better manners. As for you, my lad, I'm sorry for you. You've shipped for the v'y'ge, and there ain't any help for it, as I see. But you may depend upon one thing, old Bill Sturdy will look out for you, and will be your friend."

"Thank you," said our hero, feeling more cheerful and hopeful. It was something to have one friend on board.

"I mistrust there are some rascals aboard," muttered Bill to himself, as he went up on deck. "They'd better not interfere with me or that young lad!" and he extended his muscular arm with a sense of power.