The Last Cruise of the Spitfire Part 11

That was not so bad. If I could leave the vessel at that place I could easily find my way up to Boston, and a sojourn in that city would just suit me. All trace of my going there would be lost, and it was not likely that my uncle would look for me so far from New York.

"Here's your bunk, and here's some old clothes to put on," went on Lowell, as he pointed the things out. "You had better save your good clothes for sh.o.r.e. Knocking around the ship will wear them out in no time."

"What am I to do on board?" I asked, as I surveyed the greasy shirt and trousers with some dismay.

"Learn to do your duty as a foremast hand. If you obey orders and don't kick up any muss you'll have a first-cla.s.s time of it," was his reply.

I was somewhat doubtful of the truth of this statement, but as nothing was to be gained by refuting it, I bit my lips and said nothing.

"You can take your time about changing your clothes," went on Lowell.

"There ain't much to do at present. When it storms is the time all hands work lively, for their own sake as much as for the sake of any one else.

When you're in working rig come to the bow, and I'll give you a pointer or two about how to tackle things."

With these words the boatswain--for such Lowell was--left me to myself.

CHAPTER VIII.

PHIL JONES.

I found the forecastle of the Spitfire a dark and rather unwholesome place. The ventilation was bad, and the smell of tar and oak.u.m was so strong that for a moment I had to turn away to catch my breath.

Luckily my bunk was close to the doorway, so I had the best light the place afforded. Close to me was a chest, and upon this I sat down to think.

It would be hard to express my feelings at this moment. Had I gone on board the Spitfire of my own will I would not have considered the matter as bad. True, I had no great fancy for a life on the ocean wave, such as most boys are supposed to cherish. I knew that at best it was little better than a dog's existence.

"h.e.l.lo, there!"

I looked up. A boy several years younger than myself stood near me. He was thin and pale, and his eyes had a frightened look.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Polly Jones," he replied.

"Polly Jones," I repeated. "That's a girl's name."

"'Tain't my right name. They used to call me Phil at home, but the sailors all call me Polly here, because they say I act like a girl."

"What do you do on board?" I asked with some curiosity.

"I'm the cabin boy and the cook's help. What are you?"

"I don't know what I am yet. I didn't come on board of my own free will."

"You didn't?" Phil Jones's eyes opened to their widest. "You don't look like a sailor."

"Come down here," said I. "I want to have a talk with you."

The cabin boy gave a sharp look about the deck and then hurried into the forecastle.

"I don't want Captain Hannock to see me down here," he explained. "If he did he'd thrash the life out of me."

"Is the captain such a hard man?"

"Is he? Just you wait until something goes wrong and you'll find out quick enough. See here," the cabin boy bared his arm and exhibited several bruises that made me shudder, "he gave me those day before yesterday, just because I wasn't spry enough to suit him."

"He must be a brute!" I exclaimed. "He shall not treat me like that, I can tell you."

"I'd like to see some one stand up against him," said Phil. "None of the men dare to do it."

"What makes you stay on board?"

"I have to. Captain Hannock has charge of me until I'm twenty-one."

"He is your guardian?"

"Yes."

"He ought to treat you better. Did you ever try to run away?"

"Once; while we were at Baltimore. But Lowell caught me, and the captain nearly killed me when I got back. I could have got away, only I had no money."

"Doesn't the captain allow you anything for your services?" I asked, at the same time wondering if I would be paid for what I was called upon to do.

"Not a cent. To tell the truth he even takes away what the pa.s.sengers--if we have any--give me."

"He must be mighty mean," said I.

"If you've any money you had better hide it," went on the cabin boy.

"'Tain't safe here."

"Thank you, Phil, I'll take your advice. I've got four dollars and a half, and I don't want to lose it."

As I spoke I felt in my pocket to make sure that the amount was still safe.

To my chagrin the money was gone!

I must confess that I felt quite angry when I discovered that my hard-earned savings had been taken from me. To be sure, four dollars and a half was not a large sum, but it had been my entire capital and I had calculated upon doing a great deal with it.

"What's the matter?" asked Phil Jones, as he stood by, watching me turn my pockets inside out to make sure that there was no mistake.

"My money is gone!" I exclaimed. "I have been robbed."

"Where did you have it?"