Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1014 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Middy Ned, the Runaway: Hairbreadth Escapes Afloat and Ashore, The Story of the Great Commodore's First Year at Sea. BY T. J. FLANAGAN, AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE TWO MIDSHIPMEN,” ‘‘ MID- SHIPMAN DARE,” ETC, CHAPTER I, THE FUTURE COMMODORE AS A RUNAWAY, ** 1’ through with this kind ef work!” ** Hold on, Ned! Where are you going?” ** Anywhere—to get away from digging pota- toes,” and the speaker walked away, leaving the field in which, with his six brothers, he had over an hour been digging potatoes, The first speaker was E.iward Preble—then a boy of sixteen, and afterward the celebrated commodore—and the other an elder brotier, Their short conversation took place in a po- tato field outside the town of Falmouth (now Portland); Maine, to which General Preble— better known as ** The Brigadier,” on account of baving risen to the rank of brigadier-general in his native colony of Massachusetts—had re- moved during the year made memorable by the Declaration of Independence, At the outbreak of tue Revolution, ‘‘ The Brigadier” was seventy years of age, and as, in that day and region, laborers were not to be had for the asking (so many of the young men of the country being absent in the army, or on private armed vessels of war), General Preble was often compelled to take the field, at the head of his sons, in a capacity less martial than had distinguished his previous enterprises. On a pressing occasion, he ordered a)! his boys to take their hoes, goto the proper place, and be- gin digging potatoes. Young Edward did his part of the work for an hour or two, and then suddealy threw down his hoe, exclaiming: ‘*P'm through with this kind of work!” He left the field, and, while his brothers were calculating what would be the consequences of the next meeting between The Brigadi-r and Ned, the latter was making the best of his way toward what was left of Falmouth, which, like other Eastern seaports, bad been ruthlessly fired by the British at the beginning of the Revolution. Ned had stopped work just before noon, and long ere he reached the town felt very bungry; but there was no way of aupeemn’ that want until Falmouth was reached, and, as pursuit was probable, he trudged along. Half a mile from the sow, Bed came across an old woman who implored bis assistance in crossing a rough piece of theroad. The young runaway not only did this, but, forgetting all about his haste, accompanied the old woman to the town, and, on the way, learned her She was a widow, with one son in the army, and another at sea, These sons had left their mother quite comfortable in Falmouth, but, when that town was destroyed, the widow’s house was first to suffer. ‘ * And now,” she concluded, “‘ I don’t know what todo, Ivebeen stayin’ with my sister-in- law until to-day, but her husband’s a hard man, and would keep me no longer, though | was willin’ t? work, ’a’ did work hard, too.” ** Have you no friends?’ asked the runaway ‘¢ [don’t know, but [’m goin’ to ask a neigh- bor t’ let me stay till my son’s ship comes back, Ten miles I’ve walked this blessed day to get to her, and not a morsel have I eaten since last night.” Ned had just one shilling in his pocket—hbis total capitai, but the old woman’s story touched the boy’sheart, ‘* Here, madam, is a shilling,” he said, draw- ing forth his treasure, ‘‘and there is a very good inn where you can get sometbing to eat.” ‘*May Heaven bless you!” exclaimed the mother, tears in her eyes, Ned burried away toescape her thanks. ‘She wanted it worse tham you did,” he said to the protesting stomach, and bent his footsteps toward the shipping. Several vessels were in port on which the lad gought employment, but his age was against Sim,and evening found him wandering back gust the inn, supperless and moneyless, ‘* Better luck to-morrow,” he thought. ‘‘I can sleepin some barn, and if that poor old lady could go for twenty-four hours without eating, I’m sure I can,” as he bad to do, and would have gladly endured a whole day of potato-digging for a good breakfast, the pext morning, after passing the night on the hay-mow of a barn. Ned bad hardly left the barn in which he ‘‘Jodged,” when he met the owner, who looked at him in surprise, saying: ‘* Good-morning, Master Preble! You’re out pretty early, to-day!” Asit was just about sunrise, Ned was com- pelled to admit that he was out ‘‘ pretty early.” The farmer, never dreaming that the boy was a runaway, went on to the barn, leaving Ned —feeling angry and miserable—to resume his way toastream a half-mile away, for a wasb- up and drink, ‘* Now [ must get away from here,” be said; “ that fellow will be sure to say he saw me,” After a good drink and a face-and-hands bath, Ned returned to Falmouth, and finally, near noon, climbed aboard a beautiful, armed schoo- ner, and asked if a boy was wanted. ‘* Dunno, sah, Cap’n’n’ mos’ all de rect gone onshore,” replied the cook, whom Ned met com- ing out of the galley. ‘‘ Dar’s de bosun; mebbe he tell you,” added the cook, aga tall, thin man, with a loug black beard, and sad, black eyes, came toward the vessel, which was named the Volunteer. ‘* Want a boy?” echoed the boatswain on com- ing aboard. ‘* Well, | dunno but we do. But Shae pretty young!” looking sharply at the ad + Over fourteen, sir! promptly apoken. ‘“Hum! Well, ye kin wait ’round till the captain comes,” CHAPTER II. SKIPPED, DELIGHTED at even the hope of shipping, Ned Preble the future commander sat down on a coil of rope, just as the schooner’s bell was rung eight strokes, and he asked: ‘* What is that for, sir?” ‘* Right bells, my boy, which means twelve o'clock, and dinner-time, too.” ‘* Dinner-time?” repeated Ned, looking wist- fully toward tbe galley, from which most savory odors were issuing. The boatswain caught the look and tone, and partly guessing the rest, said: ‘* Ay, my lad, dinner-time, and glad am I of it. hat d’ye say to takin’a bite, Let’s see what Scip’s got for us.” And see he did—the hungriest boy in town! Pea soup and corned beef—or ‘‘ sult horse,” as sailors term it—with potatoes and crackers, composed tbe meal to which the half-starved Ned was ushered, ‘‘ Looksas if ye werea little hungry,” observed the boatswain, smiling at the ravenous manner in which the boy devoured the food placed be- fore him, Ned colored deeply, and in explanation was forced to confess that he had not tasted food for thirty-six hours, ‘*Ph-e-ew! Runaway from home?” His chances of employment would be very slim if he told the truth; that he knew ; but scorn- ing to lie, he told his story. ‘* It’s a poor sailor that goes on a cruise with- out stores,” commented the boatswain; “‘ why didn’t ye bring somethin’ with ye?” ** Because I didn’t expect to have much trou- ble in shipping, and I had a shilling when | started, but—” ‘¢ Well, what did ye with the shillin’?” demand- ed the boatswain, looking curiously at Ned. ‘‘T gave it to a poor old lady; she wanted it more than I did; she was starving.” ‘“‘That was. yesterday afternoon, near the inn at the edge of the town?” asked the sailor, strangely excited, ‘* Yes:—did you meet her?’ asked the much- surprised lad, Springing up, and seizing Ned’s hand, the boatswain replied: ‘* Yes, thank God, I did meet her! It wasmy own dear old mother ye helped, my Iad, an’ while Tom Turner’s got a shot in the locker youll never go hungry ag’in—nor want a friend!” Tuen, before the astonished boy could speak, the grateful seaman plunged one hand into his pocket, and withdrawing it full of gold and sil- ver, which he laid before Ned, continued: ‘There, my lad, help yourself!” ‘“‘I'"d rather not, sir,” protested the runaway: ‘‘ but [ would like you to get me on this vessol,” ‘We'll talk about that,” returned the boat- Midiv Ned, the Runaway. swain, selecting several pieces of gold from the heap, ‘‘ we'll taik about that, my lad; but first, take these! You"ll need them for your kit, if ye do ship, an’ you must keep them for your kind- ness if ye don’tship.” Paying no attention to Ned’s protest, the boatswain told bim on arriving at Falmouth, he found his motuer’s cottage destroyed, his mother missing, and noone, apparently, certain whether she was dead or alive, and not until the previous day had ber son got traces of her. That day, however, he meta friend who sug- gested that Mrs. Turner might have taken re- fuge with her sister-in-law, su the sailor started at once for the latter’sfarm. On tie outskirts of the town was an inn, at which he stopped for a ‘*bite”—bread and cheese and ale—and met his mother! ‘‘Oniy for you, my boy, she’d never have got there,” declared the boatswain. ‘‘And now about your shippin’,” continued Turner. ‘‘ You've done me a great service, and it don’t seem tie best way to repay ye to inter- juice ye t’ alife that’s hard at its best, but pur- ticlerly aboard this craft, D’ye know she’sa letter-o’ marque?” ‘¢ What’s that, sir?” ‘Well, it’s a kind of a commision from this Government, t? dot’other one ali the barm ye can, There’s money in it—sometimes, and dan- ger at all times, so you’d better waita bit, and see what your father will do for ye.” “Tf I can’t go with you, I will with some one else,” said Ned, determinedly; ** I'll not go back tothe farm,so I do wish you would belp me to get here.” ‘“ Well, Plltalk t’ the captain; but if he says you’re too young, I hope you'll promise t’ go home, an’ not try any cruise—just yet, any- how.” It so happened that the captain, (who came aboard while they were talking,) was acquainted with the brigadier, but bore no good will to- ward bim, and when the boatswain spoke of Ned, he thought it an excellent way to pay off old scores with the father, by shipping the son, Preble!” he exclaimed, ‘‘ why, yes, I guess we can make use of that boy. Send bim here.” | y ‘Captain wants t’ talk t’ ye, Ned,” said Tur- ner going forward to where the boy was wait- ing. The captain laughed heartily on hearing the story of the potato digging, told Ned he wasa tine, spirited lad, and the runaway was engaged ‘¢ We sail to-morrow,” announced the captain ‘‘and when you write your father—as, 0 course, you will, and [ will see to the delivery of the letter—be sure to tell him your captain’s name is Bill Brown. Don't forget it’s Bill—not William,” That night, under the supervision of the watchful boatswain, Ned purchased an outfit, and on his return to the Volunteer wrote a let- ter to his father, informing him of his good for- tune in having secureda berth with Captain Bill Brown. This letter, which was intrusted to the cap- tain, was delivered next evening while the Pre- ble family were at supper, and The Brigadier read it aloud. Except Mrs. Preble, who burst into tears, and cried: ‘‘Oh, Edward, how could you leave me?” none of the family dared make any comment until after The Brigadier spoke, — ‘¢ There’s no use crying,” heseid; ‘‘ one voyage with that pirate will cure Ned of his love for the sea—that is; if he ever gets home again!” CHAPTER III, OUT OF THE FRYINGPAN, Havine got rid of bis letter, Ned’s first thought was to get acquainted with his ship- mates, and leaving the cabin, where the captain had allowed, or rather ordered, him to write, he sougbt the boatswain in the forecastle, The Volunteer carried ten guns, and forty men, and Ned found most of the latter sitting and lying around Tom Turner, speculating, as usual, as to their destination, and the probable financial results of the cruise. “Dye know, Tom, I’ve an idee she’s goin’ out as a slaver this time,” one of the crew was say- ing, but, when Ned made his appearance, stop- ped short, and gazed inquiringly at the boat- swain, while the others stared at the stranger. ‘Come here, Ned, my lad,” said Turner, and making room for the boy beside him, put his hand protectingly on his shoulder. That was sufficient for the others, but the boatswain wished to settle all doubts, and said: ‘s Heave ahead, Dick—I’m answerable for this youngster. Ye all know how I looked, and ee oa oe PR 2 ow ~~ SRL zz — SS Ee —_ 0 thie meee