Harper's Young People, March 9, 1880.

by Various.

ACROSS THE OCEAN; OR, A BOY'S FIRST VOYAGE.

A True Story.

BY

J. O. DAVIDSON.

CHAPTER I.

THE FIRST NIGHT AT SEA.

P.M. steam-ship _Arizona_ sails this day at 4.30 P.M. for China and the East, _via_ Suez Ca.n.a.l. Freight received until 4 P.M. Hands wanted.

"I guess that's what I want," muttered a boy, who was comparing the printed slip in his hand with the above notice, conspicuously displayed from the yard of a huge ocean steamer alongside one of the North River piers at New York.

Not a very heroic figure, certainly, this young volunteer in the battle of life: tired, seemingly, by the way in which he dragged his feet; cold, evidently, for he shivered every now and then, well wrapped up as he was; hungry, probably, for he had looked very wistfully around him as he pa.s.sed through the busy, well-lighted market, where many a merry group were laughing and joking over their purchase of the morrow's Christmas dinner. But with all this, there was something in his firm mouth and clear bright eye which showed that, as the Western farmer said, on seeing Washington's portrait, "You wouldn't git that man to leave 'fore he's ready."

Picking up the bag and bundle which he had laid down for a moment, our hero entered the wharf house.

"Clear the way there!"

"Look out ahead!"

"Stand o' one side, will yer?"

"Now, sir, hurry up--boat's jist a-goin!"

"Arrah, now, kape yer umbrelly out o' me ribs, can't ye? Sure I'm not fat enough for the spit _yet_!'

"Hallo, bub! it's death by the law to walk into the river without a license. Guess you want to keep farther off the edge o' the pier."

The boy's head seemed to reel with his sudden plunge into all this bustle and uproar, to which even that of the crowded streets outside was as nothing. Men were rushing hither and thither, as if their lives depended on it, with tools, coils of rope, bundles of clothing, and trucks of belated freight. Dockmen, sailors, stevedores, porters, hackmen, outward-bound pa.s.sengers, and visitors coming ash.o.r.e again after taking leave of their friends, jostled each other; and all this, seen under the fitful lamp-light, with the great black waste of the shadowy river behind it, seemed like the whirl of a troubled dream.

And the farther he went, the more did the confusion increase. Here stood a portly gray-beard shouting and storming over the loss of his purse, which he presently found safe in his inner pocket; there a timid old lady in spectacles was vainly screaming after a burly porter who was carrying off her trunk in the wrong direction; an unlucky dog, trodden on in the press, was yelling; and an enormously fat man, having in his hurry jammed his carpet-bag between two other men even fatter than himself, was roaring to them to move aside, while they in their turn were asking fiercely what he meant by "pushing in where he wasn't wanted."

Suddenly the clang of a bell pierced this Babel of mingled noises, while a hoa.r.s.e voice shouted, "All aboard that's going! landsmen ash.o.r.e!"

The boy sprang forward, flew across the gang-plank just as it began to move, and leaped on deck with such energy as to run his head full b.u.t.t into the chest of a pa.s.sing sailor, nearly knocking him down.

"Now, then, where are yer a-shovin' to?" growled the aggrieved tar, in gruff English accents. "If yer thinks yer 'ead was only made to ram into other folks' insides, it's my b'lief yer ought to ha' been born a cannon-ball."

But the lad had flown past, and darting through a hatchway, reached the upper deck, where a group of sailors were gathered round a cannon. On its breech an officer had spread a paper, which a big good-natured Connaught man was awkwardly endeavoring to sign. After several floundering attempts with his huge hairy right hand, he suddenly shifted the pen to his left.

"Are you left-handed, my man?" asked the officer.

"Faith, my mother used to say I was whiniver she gev me annything to do," answered Paddy, with a grin; "but this _is_ my right hand, properly spaking, ounly it's got on the left side by mistake. 'Twas my ould uncle Dan (rest his sowl!) taught me that thrick. 'Dinnis, me bhoy,' he'd be always sayin', 'ye should aiven l'arn to clip yer finger-nails wid the left hand, _for fear ye'd some day lose the right_.'"

This "bull" drew a shout of laughter from all who heard it, and the officer, turning his head to conceal a smile, caught sight of our hero.

"Hallo! another landsman! Boatswain, hold that gang-plank a moment, or we'll be taking this youngster to sea with us."

"That's just what I want," cried the boy, vehemently. "_Will_ you take me, sir?"

"Run away from home, of course," muttered the officer. "That's what comes of reading _Robinson Crusoe_--they all do it. Well, my lad, as I see it's too late to put you ash.o.r.e now, what do you want to ship as?

Ever at sea before?"

"No, sir; but I'll take any place you like to give me."

"Sign here, then."

And down went the name of "Frank Austin," under the printed heading of "Working Pa.s.senger." The officer went off with the paper, the sailors dispersed, and Frank was left alone.

Gradually the countless lights of New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City sank behind, as the vessel neared the great gulf of darkness beyond the Narrows. Tompkins Light, Fort Lafayette, Sandy Hook, slipped by one by one. The bar was crossed, the light-ship pa.s.sed, and now no sound broke the dreary silence but the rush of the steamer through the dark waters, with the "Highland Lights" watching her like two steadfast eyes.

Of what was the lonely boy thinking as he stood there on the threshold of his first voyage? Did he picture to himself, swimming, through a hail of Dutch and English cannon-shot with the dispatch that turned the battle, the round black head of a little cabin-boy who was one day to be Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovel? Did he see a vast dreary ice-field outspread beneath the cold blue arctic sky, and midway across it the huge ungainly figure of a polar bear, held at bay with the b.u.t.t of an empty musket by a young middy whose name was Horatio Nelson? Was it the low sandy sh.o.r.es of Egypt that he saw, reddened by the flames of a huge three-decker, aboard of which the boy Casabianca

"stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled"?

Or were his visions of an English "reefer" being thrashed on his own ship by a young American prisoner, who was thereafter to write his name in history as "Salamander" Farragut? Far from it. Frank's thoughts were busy with the home he had left; and amid the cold and darkness, its cozy fireside and bright circle of happy faces rose before him more distinctly than ever.

"Wonder if they've missed me yet? The boys'll be going out to the coasting hill presently to shout for me: and sister Kate (dear little pet!), she'll be wondering why brother Frankie don't come back to finish her sled as he promised. And what distress they'll all be in till they get my first letter! and--"

"Hallo, youngster! skulking already! Come out o' that, and go for'ard, where you belong."

"I didn't mean to skulk, sir," said Frank, startled from his day-dream by this rough salutation.

"What? answering back, are ye? None o' yer slack. Go for'ard and get to work--smart, now!"

Frank obeyed, wondering whether this could really be the pleasant officer of a few hours before. Down in the dark depths below him figures were flitting about under the dim lamp-light, sorting cargo and "setting things straight," as well as the rolling of the ship would let them; and our hero, wishing to be of some use, volunteered to help a grimy fireman in rolling up a hose-pipe.

But he soon repented his zeal. The hard casing bruised his unaccustomed hands terribly, and it really seemed as if the work would never end. It ended, however, too soon for him; for the pipe suddenly parted at the joint, and splash came a jet of ice-cold water in poor Frank's face, drenching him from head to foot, and nearly knocking the breath out of his body.

"Why didn't you let go, then?" growled the ungrateful fireman, coolly disappearing through a dark doorway, hose and all, while Frank, wet and shivering, crawled away to the engine-room. Its warmth and brightness tempted him to enter and sit down in a corner; but he was hardly settled there when a man in a glazed cap roughly ordered him out again.

Off went the unlucky boy once more, with certain thoughts of his own as to the "pleasures" of a sea life, which made Gulliver and Sindbad the Sailor appear not quite so reliable as before. He dived into the "tween-decks" and sank down on a coil of rope, fairly tired out. But in another moment he was stirred up again by a hearty shake, and the gleam of a lantern in his eyes, while a hoa.r.s.e though not unkindly voice said, "Come, lad, you're only in the way here; go below and turn in."

Frank could not help thinking that it was time to turn in, after being so often turned out. Down he went, and found himself in a close, ill-lighted, stifling place (where hardly anything could be seen, and a great deal too much smelled) lined with what seemed like monster chests of drawers, with a man in each drawer, while others were swinging in their hammocks. He crept into one of the bare wooden bunks, drew the musty blanket over him, and, taking his bundle for a pillow, was asleep in a moment, despite the loud snoring of some of his companions, and the half-tipsy shouting and quarrelling of the rest.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]