Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 187 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

le ae a —— —_—_—_>— — = ~_— — -_ en aw uncomfortable as mine was. I don’t think they’re the best judges going of a hotel.” Fred got an early breakfast, so as to be ready for the business of the day. He then provided himself with the morning papers, and ensconced himself in a corner, with his paper so spread out that little more than his feet were visible. And what a time he had reading those papers, with both ears on duty to catch the least sound of a footstep, and one eye constantly creeping around the edge of the journal he was perusing, in search of every passing form. In fact, he was not getting much good from his poe patty At length, however, his eyes fell upon a letter from Beach City, with a highly-painted de- scription of the wreck of the Triton, in which his own share of the adventure was vividly detailed. It was a new sensation to Fred to find himself in rint, and he grew so interested in the description hat, for the time, he lost his keen surveillance of passing events. He was roused to a sense of his heedlessness by the sound of a voice addressing him: ‘Will you let me look at your 7yidune for a few minutes, young man?”’ [t was the voice of Captain Carstairs. A thrill ran through Fred’s veins. Fortunately he had the paper he was reading opened so as to con- ceal his face and the upper part of his Rody. He did not trust himself to speak, but s pen his hand into his lap, picked up the 7vibune that lay there, and silently held it out. He seemed too deeply interested to take time to speak. Oaptain Carstairs quietly took it and walked away, paying no further attention to the reader. It was full five minutes before Fred ventured to look around the edge of his paper, to see the lay of the land, The captain was seated in an arm-chair, intent upon his reading. The mate stood with both elbows on the office desk, chatting with the clerk. Neither was paying any attention to him. “They'll want to borrow a toothpick next. May- be I'd best vamose,” thought Fred. He rose, and sauntered to the door of the hotel, still reading, and carefully keeping his face concealed behind pa- er. : Reaching the street he had immediate business on the other side. Here he found a very convenient seaton adry-goods box, where he could continue his reading, wonder at the tide of life which ebbed and flowed up this busy street—and watch the en- trance to the hotel opposite, ' An hour, two hours, passed. It was ten o’clock. Fred began to fear that his men had found some other way out, and was just about to risk a re- eee to the house, when they appeared at the oor, They took a preliminary glance up and down the street, and then emerged, bmp § slowly away. Fred ah pace with them on the other side of the atreet. * This ain’t Crockettstown, where a stranger is a white elephant,’’ he soliloquized. ‘No danger of their getti 5 pA ry of being followed in a crowd like this, ew! isn'tit a rush, though! A fellow might think that every one of them had left his house afire, and was running for the engine.”’ But if the unsophisticated lad was surprised here, he was thunderstruck when he snerge , at = into Broadway, and beheld the turmoil and rus of that mountain torrent of life. He gazed with a sense of awe upon its immense buildings, and the vast white block of the t-office which seemed to st into and fill up the converging lines of the street. ‘*New York is some guns, and no mistake,” was Fred’s homely way of expressing his feelings. ‘‘ But what kind of a million-horse power mill it is that spouts out all these men and women, and drays and wagons, is a bit above my arithmetic.” He crew closer and closer to his men. It seemed so easy to lose them in those countless throngs. They walked for a considerable distance down Broadway, gradually checking their pace, and ex- amining the stores they were passing. Finally, after a close look at a signboard, they en- tered one of these stores. Fred emulated them in reading the sign, It ran as follows: “ke -y. Tompkins, Son & Co. Silks and General Dry- 8. ‘Sewes for a short time at a loss just what to do. It might be dangerous to enter, It might be danger- ous to-remain outside. He waited, however, for some ten minutes, and as they did not reappear, he boldly walked into thestore. It was an immense floor, well covered with open cases of goods. Little attention was d to him by the busy clerks, ard he walked back, looking keenly for his game, At the rear of the store was a large office, well supplied with clerks. Opposite this was a smaller office, with a window opening upon the store, which was lifted a fewinches. Fred rightly conjectured that it wasa private office, And, not greatly to his surprise, he saw through the crack in the window, the head of Captain Car- stairs turned from him, and toward another person who sat facing outward. ‘* What can I do for you?” asked a clerk, briskly approaching Fred. “If you could get me a glass of water to peg with I'd thank you,” replied our hero. ‘I feel a lit- tle faint. ‘*Certainly. Of course,” said the salesman, hasten- Fred canbe ed tgs As lide stoopingly to a low stool that just beneath the open window. keen ear was almost at the opening. coe — re eet ee — er eee “* She will be ready to clear by August 25th,’’ spoke the voice of a stranger to him. ‘‘ You can reach Liverpool in time to take hold.” ** And I hope the Ann won't follow the Mon- soon and the Triton,”’ returned the mate's voice. ‘** Bad luck goes by threes, you know.” ‘* But if it’s fifteen years apart it’s worth risking,” replied the first speaker. ‘Is our private cargo made up?” asked Captain Carstairs. Bh eae lower, man. You have too much of the hurricane in your tone,’’ came a warni voice. “You will find all ready. You say that our last ven- ture is safe?’’ “Yes. At Bundy’s. But it may not be safe to leave it there long.” Fred saw the man approaching with his glass of water. He slipped away from his post of vantage. He had not caught many words, but they were brimful of meaning. He had hit the conversation in the very heart of its suggestiveness. “I’ve a notion we’ve got them by the horns,” thought Fred. CHAPTER XVII. JACK BUNCE SPEAKS. Tue reader must follow us now to a room in old Tom Halyard’s residence, which was the favorite sit- ting aparment of the old sailor, and which, but that it had none of the rocking motion of the deep sea, . have passed for the cabin of a sea-going ship. was,fitted up with all the nautical appurtenances of which the old man had become possessed dur- ing his years of shore life, and many of which had been cast ashore by the an sea during the win- ter storms which visited that coast. Even the Triton had added to this store, the furni- ture being a compound of the odds and endsof years of wreck and ruin, and of curious relics from far-off bands which the restless ocean had borne to those ores. There were four persons present. Old Tom him- self and his adopted son, Harry Bains and Mr. Proc- tor making up the eet poy The old man stroked his grizzled beard in delight as he listened to Fred's story of his adventures in pursuit of the smugglers, and of his final success. “You're a chip of the old block, lad!” he cried. ** Don’t know what old block itis; but I know that it was Tom Halyard that brung ye into shape; and you’re an honor to his trainin’.”’ “Hold up, old man,’’ returned Harry Bains. ** Don’t be making a fool of the lad with your sweet oil. There’s no use spoiling good timber with polish. And so you nailed them, Fred?” ‘* Yes,’’ replied Fred, quietly. “If we are wide- awake when the Mary Ann comes in we may have better luck than in the last venture.” “*Go on with your story,’’ said Mr. Proctor, impa- tient of these interruptions. ‘*There is little more to tell,’’ responded Fred. ‘‘I went into the dry-goods business with Tompkins’s salesman, and gave him a rey fair order for goods, to be shipped to St. Louis. I had to countermand it the next day,’’ he continued, laughing. ‘‘I calcu- late, though, they would panty. have nee to the iter represented, except they felt like going it ind,” “Did you hear anything more?”’ “Why, I managed to get pp era under the win- dow for another ten minutes. But they had slipped into another line of business. I picked up, though, that they would make their landing on Turtle Island, and have their shore agent on hand to take off the oods. The signal to be three lights in a triangle at he fore-top.” ‘**But that’s as good as gold!’’ exclaimed Harry Bains, jubilantly, slapping his knee. ‘It’s to be an- swered from the shore, of course,” “Yes. The answer the same as the signal.’ “Go on, You are not through yet,” said Mr. Proctor, “I had my own fun for two or three days,” re- sponded Fred, ‘‘seeing and doing New York. And what a placeitis! A fellow would think all Ameri- ca had been busy for ten centuries building it. And it must have used up more than one mountain to supply the stone. And for the people—whew! it’s no wonder where the summer overflow comes from. I used to think at one time that all New York must come to the sea-shore. But it’s hardly a ripple.” They all laughed at Ired’s enthusiasm. He had evidently been deeply impressed with the immensity of the metropolis. ‘*But seeing New York was not your principai business,’’ remarked Mr. Proctor. ‘** You can bet I kept an eye on my e. Iholed them at last, on board the Cunard steamer, the Asia, bound for England and a market. Their friend Tompkins was down to see them off. But I a nek find it convenient to pick up any more n . “You have done very well,’’ replied Mr. Proctor, approvingly. Did Sa have as good luck?” asked Fred. ‘“ How did the Red Lion show up?”’ **Not worth a cent, Fred,’’ returned old Tom. ** Jim Bundy was too old for them.”’ “From what your men said the goods must be there, Fred,’’ broke in Harry. ‘But we couldn't raid a stitch of them. There must be some con- foundedly cunning biding-place about that concern, for we hunted it close, I promise you that.” ‘*They will be removed soon,” returned Fred. “The Red Lion needs close watching.”’ ‘*And I know no better eyes than Fred Halyard’s for that duty,” rejoined Mr. Proctor, ‘‘if he doesn’t do too much sleeping on the porch of the Black 14 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy. Fred laughed at the recollection of his dream. By ray of changing the subject, he asked lightly: “Did any of you ever hear of a craft ed the Monsoon? Iam growing curious aboutit. It must have gone ashore fifteen years ago, according to the mate of the Triton. And Jim Bundy spoke of it when he saw me. My face seemed to callup some shred of memory to his empty brain.” “The thunder you say!” cried old Tom. ‘“*The Monsoon !’’ **What about the Monsoon!’’ came a deep voice from the door. They all hastily turned. There stood the hand- some sailor, Jack Bunce, his face full of interest. ‘“What do you know about her?” asked old Tom, anxiously. ‘*T sailed in her once, Captain Carstairs command- ing. She went out ag under a new master. bm sea swallowed her. She was never heard of again.”’ ‘“* How long ago was that?’’ ey: matter o fe pee or aneee goed significant look passed between Tom and Harry Bains. There was ok dtmnent in the old man’s face, He looked again at the sailor. ‘*What kind of a craft was this Monsoon?” he anxiously a ‘““A Clyde-built, ship-rigged, sharp-nosed custom- phy was narrow-beamed, and set low in the water.”’ ‘““By Jove, Tom!’ cried Harry Bains. ‘That he answer for the craft that brought Fred ashore.”’ By this time the old man was quivering with ex- citement. Fred, who sat beside , quietly took his hand. The boy wished to assure him that noth- ing should part them. ee she come ashore on this coast?’’ asked the sailor. ‘*A ship struck here fifteen years ago,”’ answered Harry Bains. ‘“‘She landed but two p ers, ene raging sea didn’t leave a nail that she could be old by.”’ ‘** But the passengers?”’ *‘One was a baby. This is him,” laying his hand on the boy’s head. ‘The other wasa sailor. But the sea washed his brain clean of memory. Left it a DieOs 08 a fresh sheet of paper. He had to begin e fresh.” ‘*That’s odd,” said Jack Bunce. ‘‘ Was his name gone, too?”’ “6 Yes colors.’ ‘*What sort of a looking tar was he?’’ ‘“‘A thin, wiry fellow,’’ answered Harry. ‘‘ Allskin and bone; light hair and eyes, and a nose as sharp as a corkscrew.”’ Jack stood holding by the door-frame, in dee thought for several minutes. They all looked curi- a toward him, without breaking the silence. ‘** Does he still answer to the roll-call of life?’’ he at cs ae queried. sé es *s ‘*Whereaway ?”’ ‘*He keeps the Red Lion Inn, at Crockettstown, twenty miles from here.” “I must get my weather-eye on the chap. He may, and he mayn’t be an old shipmate,’’ responded ack. Fred took an early opportunity to escape from the room. His mind was overflowing with thought. He wished to be alone with his emotions, Could it be that the mystery of his life was about to be re- vealed? Did that stranger hold the key to his histo- as The thought was not eutirely pleasant to him. life had been a happy one. He wanted nofather to replace old Tom ard. Yet, the craving to know more of his true history, to have the thick vail of aebeene? fl which shrouded his early life lifted, was strong within him, Hewalked on, thinking, un- til his mind was in a whirl. Was he the heir to wealth and honor, or to disgrace that had better be left forever buried? His deep day-dream was broken by the sound of a well-known and always welcome yoice. . Ke as me, Mr. Halyard, for disturbing you, u , **You need no excuses,”’ he quickly interrupted. ‘*T am unpardonable for not seeing you.” “‘Not at all,”’ Rose Darlington—for it was she— laughingly replied. ‘‘ Little people, like me, often pans veya life unseen. But I heard that your eg had been unwell, and wished to inquire after m, ‘It was only a day’s sickness,’ rejoined Fred. ‘*He is well, again. And Iam much obliged, indeed, for your interest in him.” ‘“*T like him, ever so much,” she answered. “ He is my beau ideal of an old sailor.” ge walked on down the beach, still conversing. At this hour there were few abroad, and they had the beaten oar ahh of the sands almost to them- selves. To their left the incessant roll of the surf broke in its endless thunder. The rippling flow of its waters almost reached their feet. e beach was strown with shells and sea-weed, and occasionally with some rarer wonder of the deep, flung up by the revealing waves. Their conversation dropped into a lowerkey. The sands, the surf, the shells, the skies, all furnished themes for thought. Rose listened with surprise to the deep vein of contemplation that dwelt in this youth, reared on the borders of the sea, and to the ua ge diction in which, at times, he clothed his houghts, There was a deeper vein within him than she had previously felt. She found herself listening with eager interest to his words. Or was it more than interest? Will Howard’s ac- , replied Tom. “He sails now under new cusation had set her thinking. She felt herself and straugely than ehe had fam- drawn more | GO Gc IJOOKSEEO