Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 122 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

-—-—— - oa - ee nw ee si + Phil, in his positive, matter-of-fact way. ‘Bad luck’s only another word for bad management. Tha fellers that knows jist how to dot dont have none but good luck, There’s only one bit of cargo, as I kin see, that’s a bad bit.” “And what’s that?” asked Joe. ‘“*Tt’s that curmudeon of a mate. He’s got the ey vee of my eye-teeth for his one cut with a ropeo’s end, See if 1 dont come up with him for the other.” And Phil’s eyes glittered as if it was in him to pay the mate dearly for his favor. ‘“There aint none of us too much in love with him,’’ said the sailor who had not yet spoken. ‘So you can sink your teeth in t’other leg soon as you’ve a mind; and no questions asked.” **Quess I'll match him on another tack, next time,” muttored Phil. “Thar aint no talent in using a feller’s teeth twice in the same job.” : **'There’s wuss than the mate atween decks of this here shi»,” growled old Ben, ‘* That last bit of cargo that was hauled in at Liverpool is enough to sink the best ship that ever floated.” ‘“ What are you blowing about now, Ben?’ queried another. “It’s half a notion of yourn, There was somethin’ come aboard kind of mysterious, I'll allow that, But spose it did? The Strongbow has got her nose out of water yet.” ‘“* What was it?’ asked Phil, curiously. “That’s what there ain’t a Jack tar of us can tell.” **Tt’s a miracle it didn’t send us allto Davy Jones,” was Ben’s melancholy remark. ‘“There’s been something sige, Be the ship all the way over. There weren’t a Mother Cary’s chicken would rest its tired foot on our spars; and that’s the worst thing that could wey dn aship. I’ve seen many a good boat founder fur less cause.” *That’s all stuff!” broke in Phil, impatiently. ‘“* As if a bird’s wing could shake down good or bad luck! Guv me hard facts andI swaller them. But [ cant go no nonsense,” **T judge you know everything in heaven and earth, my little bantam,” grumbled old Ben, looking at Phil as a Newfoundland dog might look at a snap- ping terrier. ‘*T know there’s nothing happens without a good reason,"’ said Phil, decidedly. “I’m matter-of-fact right through,I am, Tell me apples he on trees and it’sall right. But I dont take in jiants, and mermaids and hobgoblins, nohow.” ‘*Shoot me for a lubber if the boy dont know more than the ship’s cook!” cried Joe, “Did you ever see sich a little powder-monkey?” ‘Maybe you'll tell what brung on the blows that followed us all the way across seas,” gaid Ben tri- umphantly, It’s a doomed ship that a bird wont light on, and that the winds has a spite agin.” ** Was the Strongbow the only ship afloat?” asked Phil, impatiently. ‘*I spose they was all born to bad luck that gofin the way of them storms?” ‘**I dont believe there was none got in the heart of the wind like we did,” protested Joe, ‘Then that’s cause your captain didn't know how to handle his ship and sa'1 out of the wind,” persist- ed Phil. ‘*It was all bad management, and thar was no more bad luck in it than thar is blood in a tur- vip.” nd the young philosopher clasped his hands around his knee, and looked up with all the wisdom of a Franklin in his small face, **Woll, here’s a fying fish, with cast-iron wings, end with the whole world biled down into his nod: dle,” roared Ben, with a deep spar. “Why, you desp’rat little imp, ll bet a mar ike that you dont know enough to take a half hitch in a hawser.” “If it wasin my line I'd not eat another mouthful afore I’d know how to make @ double half hitch,”’ said Philunabashed, “A fellar can know whar the light comes from without knowin’ how fur off the sun is. AndI dont b’lieve what dont stand to com- mon sense; that’s flat.” Silence Ae poe for the space of afew minutes in 8, the forecastle, as the ring of sailors looked down nonplused, upon the stur Tule racticality coiled cool in their midst. up so provo ] ea hen oyed triumph for a short space, and en : ‘Weren't thar one of you smelt out this here bit of contraband cargo?” “Not a mother’s son of us,” replied Ben. “And we was cur’us enough, you can swar to that. But the Cap and mate was too sharp forus. I’ve heered eer noises in the cabin, and there’s been some afloat that weren’t on the ship’slog. But it aint fora topman to crittercise what goeson down the companionway.”’ “This queer cargo aint landed yet?’’ said Phil questioningly. “No, nor wont through the customs,” said Ben, positively, “Bet you high it aint on the ship’s manifest. Butif there aint a queer bundle of dry- goods slips ashore some dark night when the cus- toms Officer is a-winking, then I dont know a bow- sprit from a tiller,” ** Think so, eh?” asked Phil, with curious interest. “i to go my last hair on it.” “* Then if I dont hire Phil Hardy out fur an Uncle m’s stor, thar aint no snakes,” cried Phil, “*Thar’ll be lively times for that frisky mate if he tries to work any traverse, that’s me.” - “Look out he dont pay you out with the other end of the rope,”” warned Joe faushingly. “His rope ain’t long enough. He'll soon come to theend of it,” was Phil’s positive answer, ‘‘Guess 11 git now.” e mate failed to see a small bundle of humanity nae rag across the deck, and into the gloom of e ‘ But he was so busy in his chat with the inspector ‘hat he had no eyes for the mysterious things going ox behind his back. Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. CHAPTER II, GRANDMOTHERS AND SWEETHEARTS, In one of the streets inthe neighborhood: ofthe East river in a tenement house that looked, outside and inside, considerably the worse for wear, dwelt our young friend. Phil wasan orphan, with only his old grandmother to take care of him, and together hey. sumptuously occupied two or three apartments in the UpPeePOELIOR of the great edifice. The old lady, small, spruce, active and good-hu- mored, thought the world of Phil, and made life as licht for him as her brisk old hands could e, bbe. had osoell SOP DA, he wae ane out by 1il’s seanty ear s, and partly by that cheery disposition which makes overty a light weight. ut on the morning after the boy’s visit to. the sailors she was in a mint of trouble, “You can say what you please; he might. be drowned. Orlocked up maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time.’’? And she wiped a stealthy tear awa from the corner of her eye. “I do wish Phil weren't so full of fight. The police have a hankering after boys that show fight.’ She was mechanically setting the breakfast-table as she went through this soliloquy, with a sort of in- stinctive hope that the smeil of victuals might draw the missing one home, ‘* He’s been out all night before, or 1 might wor- ry,” she continued. “ He says he can always take care of himself. ButIdont know. What's a little mouse like him in a great nest of cats, that this New York is? Ido wish he’d come)” Her wish was answered by a lively whistle on the stairs. The door was flung open with boyish vigor, and Phil came bustling into the room, ‘*“Now dont worry, and dont scold, granny,” he cried, catching and kissing the old lady, as if to take the sting out ofhertongue. ‘Couldn't help it. Been on duty. You kin see I’m sound, and jist livelier than a cricket.” And Phil stood on his head and turned a somer- sault to his feet again, in proof of his liveliness. “What you got for breakfass, granny? I’m as hungry as a two-year-old colt. Been up all night on bizness. Wanta bite of victuals, and then a long snooze,” “Got some fried liver and ing’ins. That’s what you like, I know. But, where has ny SF been?”’ And the old lady bustled about him with a face shin- ing with affection. ‘Too hungry to talk now. Tell you the whole story after breakfass,’’ said Phil, seating himself im- patiently at the table, ‘* But, my boy hasn’t washed his face and hands yet,” said Mrs. Hardy, anxiously. ‘And they aint over clean,”’ ‘Oh! alittle dirt wont hurt,” replied the young philosopher, ‘“‘I don’t mind it, and so you need- n't ” “Why, he’s as grimy as a blacksmith,” exclaimed the old lady. ‘*Come here at once, you little black- amoor, and give your face a scrubbing!” and she took the laughing boy by the shoulders and set him in front of a full in of water, ‘* Feared I'll dirty the water,”’ protested Dick, look- ing at it ruefully. Come now. It spoil the taste of ing’ins to.eat them with soiled hands,’’ declared ardy, laughing, a hurt their smells, anyhow,” remarked Phil Tr} Do plunging his face and hands into the basin, and ed about him, bringing a towel scrubbing ky 4 VIRORODSY - The old lady bus and ining his cheeks and nose so vigorously that it looked as if she had a design to deprive him of the latter important member, ‘* Guess that’s enough for one rub,”’ cried Phil,,es- caping from her with red, shiny face. ‘Like to have some skin left. Now, granny, for the liver and onions,” Mrs. party's preakiae was largely made up of satisfaction in Phil’s fresh appetite. She ate dainti- ly herself, but the hungry lad made up for all her de- ciencies, ‘‘ Boys must eat. That’s the way they soliloquized, ‘Now, child, give me that coat. You've been in the mud again. And see where he’s started the stitches! Ideclare you keep me busy, scrubbing and sewing.” “T dunno how it is, granuy,”’ was Phil’s apology. “Mud kind of goes fur me.. Bet if I was. to be ina place floored with clean towels, and with lookin’-glass walls, ’'d git muddy, somehow. Must be the dirt that I’m made of, coming out. Cant account fur it no other way. Go ahead, and I'll tell you ali about what’s kept me. Mought have to be two or three nights out.” hil proceeded with a description of his late adven- tures, finishing by relating that he had been up all night watching the Strongbow. They’re a-trying to shut up Uncle Sam’s blind eye,” he continued. ‘‘Now ['m a citizen of these yore United States of Amerikay, and I aint a-going o stand it. That’s my - The old lady looked with pride at the dignified at- titude of the young hero as he rose erect in his en- thusiasm, “ That’s right, Roney” she said, stroking his short hair admiringly. ‘“‘ Now lay down and get a snooze while I clean up the breakfast things.” Phil slept as ‘heartily as he had eaten, his snooze lasting till near dinner-time. Mrs. Hardy went che 7 o0 with her housekeeping duties, singing softly herself as she looked on the handsome sleeping lad, and knowing from old experience that thunder would not waken him. After dinner Phil, with his usual hearty kiss, left grecn to her sewing, and went down-stairs w ebalaties of the tune which he had started on eoming up. w,”’ she 3 ee te He had reached the landing below, and was max- | ing for the next flight of stairs, whem he was inter- rupted by a sudden obstacle, he door of an adjoining room had opened, and a young lady, of less than own age, stood in the passage, her arms extended from wail to wall. It was one of those sweet, fresh, sunny faces, in which beauty and brightness are linked in every fea- ture, Long, waving, soft brown hair twined hike a frame round the picture of her face, while a merry smile twinkled in her eyes and displayed the peariy evenness of her teeth, « ‘You cant pass, you truant, till you tell where ou have been and where you are going. I Lave en up to see Mrs. Hardy and I know you were out all night. Oh WF na to think of it, Phil!" ‘I’ve been out night afore,” he said, with a sense of shame. ‘ Yes, that horrid night that you fought, and got locked up. I hope, ever 80 much, it wasn't the same thing again.”’ And the little beauty’s eyex were full of trouble, "Lou know it wasn’t, if you've been to see gran- ‘Oh! that was early, before you came home this - morning.”’ ‘You're a dear little tease, Susy. Set down hers and I'll teli you all avout it,” _And, seated at the head of the stairs, nestled co- sily against each otherfor support, Phil proceeded to again tell the story of his adventures. Susy did not quite share his disgust at the giaut episode of the narration. She had more poetry ia her composition than Phil. But when he came to the whipping he had received from the an mate, her brown eyes flashed with indignation, and she coiled her young arms protectingly around him. Nor was she at all shocked at hearing how the youthful savage had bitten his antagonist, “Tt served him just right,” she exclaimed, shak- ing her rong curls in triumph. “Biting isn’t nice, £ know; but then—” and she looked the rest of her opinion. But when Phil came to the revelation of the sail!- ors her interest culminated, There was a delightful! spice of mystery about it that went straight to her romantic heart. “Oh, Phil, I hope you will find it all out!” she cried. “I know it isn’t drygoods, as old Ben said. For if if was what would they want to act so strange for? There’s some great wrong-doing, some dread- ful business, [fear. And I want you to go right on and discover it all, and tell me all about it.”’ And her face glowed with enthusiasm. “Tlldo my best, Susy,’ he quietly replied. “It mought prove a risky bisness, but l aint going to be druv back for a tritle of risk." | ‘Then you must not do it, Phil," she exclaimed, with sudden alarm, ‘I would not have you hurt for anything.”’ ‘Dont you be afeared, little gal,” he said, laugh- ing. ‘* When they larn how to tread on a lively weasel they'll know how to hurt Phil Hardy, And not sooner.—Guess it’s time I was slidin’,"”’ But it was not so easy to slide away from his volnble young friend. A full half hour elapsed ere Sere could get away from irrep e littie auty. “You aren’t going that way?” she cried, looking at him rerroactifulty out oe her great brown eyes. “No, little sweetheart,” he replied, tu throwing his arms around her neck, while he Kissed her with warm affection. “Jist you wait, Susy. Ill tell you everything, as fast as I find it out,” In a minute more Phil was out of ro at the bot- tom of the stairs, and Susy, flinging the lone haw out of her eyes, turned and went singing thie the a sodas ob had emerged. ere were plentiful signs of poverty about the shidydn her patched short clothes hs bare feet. paid anh eS hr ge eee ep of that yt gm spirit and chee soul which defy poverty and ite attendant ills, Mee p But we must hasten forward through this slow- moving day until night again settles over the great city. <f is a starless night. Thick clouds have gathered over the sky, and the June air is close and gultry. Along the wharves the great ships heave and pulse like breathing things, chafing uneasily against the stout timbers of the piers as the inflowing tide lifte their massive hulls. . The Strongbow rests in dent silence, Not aefen of life is on her deck, The neighboring wharf is he. coming covered with her discharging cargo, and right, and left the wharf guardian paces like an unquiet spirit of the night. But there are unquiet spirits on board the ship as well. A whisper of voices sounds from the compan- ionway. Thena figure emerges and steps from the ee to the wharf, accosting the watchman as ho O€8 SO, “Is it you, Captain Monroe?” asks the latter. ‘Yes, Ican’t sleep. It’s too blamed hot. Guess I’ll take a breath of air.” “There aint much here,”’ oe the watchman. The two men walked up and down for a few min utes, ne ae Then a welcome invitation to imbibe’ came from the captain, and they adjourned, to a public house across the way, the light in whose window showed that it still extended its invitation to man and beast, They were absent not five minutes; yet in that time something had happened on board the Strong- bow. The black-bearded face of the the mate appeared, looking warily around, He disappeared in the cabs again, and almost instantly emerged, bearing in hig arms a long, heavy bundle. cS Eomichdoo