Brave Tom by Edward S. Ellis

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One bright spring morning Tom was passing through the smoking-car, when a
young man, very flashily dressed, whistled to him, and asked for a copy
of a sporting paper.

Tom had but a single copy left. This he tossed over into the lap of the
applicant in that careless, off-hand style which characterizes the veteran
newsboy.

The purchaser passed over a quarter in coin, and as Tom pulled out a
handful of silver from his pocket, from which to select the change, the
flashy young man said,--

"Never mind, sonny; I'll make you a present of that."

"But you have given me five times the price of the paper," said Tom,
thinking there was an error.

"That's all right. When I see a fellow of your style I like to encourage
him."

Tom thanked him and passed on.

The incident would not be worth recording but for the fact that it was
repeated the next day, when the same young man bought a _Herald_, and
compelled the lad to accept a bright silver quarter in payment, without
allowing him to give any change.

Six times on successive days was this done, and then the liberal purchaser
disappeared from the train.

Aside from the repetition of his favors, it was rather curious that on
each occasion he should have placed a silver quarter in the palm of Tom.

Each coin was of the same date as that year, and was so bright and shiny
that Tom believed they must have come directly from the mint. They looked
so handsome, indeed, that he determined to keep them as pocket-pieces,
instead of giving them out in change.

There is nothing like actual experience to sharpen a fellow's wits; and,
on the first day the munificent stranger vanished, a dim suspicion entered
the head of Tom that some mischief was brewing.

That night in New York he examined the coins more minutely than
heretofore. Half an hour later he walked down to the wharf and threw them
into the river.

The whole six were counterfeit. It wasn't safe for any one to carry such
property about him.

Tom was strongly convinced, further, that a job was being "put up" on him,
and he was mightily relieved when thoroughly rid of them.

That same evening one of his employers sent for him, and told him that he
had received reliable information that he, Thomas Gordon, was working off
counterfeit money on the road.

The boy denied it, of course, but he did not choose to tell all he knew,
for he saw that his own situation was a dangerous one; but he demanded
that the proof should be produced.

There was an officer present, who thereupon searched the lad for the
"queer," but he acknowledged there wasn't a penny on him which was not
sound.

Tom was kept at the office while another officer went to his
lodging-house and ransacked his room. The result was _nil_. This rather
stumped the detective, who was acting on the charge of some one else, and
he started off, remarking that the business wasn't done yet, and the best
thing the boy could do was to confess.

"I must first have something to confess," replied Tom, who was excusable
for some honest indignation.

"Where is the man who said I was in _that_ business?"

"You'll meet him in the court-room," was the significant reply of the
detective.

"That's just where I'd like to meet him, and you too, but you're afraid to
try it."

"Come, come, young man, you'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, or
I'll jug you as it is. I've enough against you."

"Why don't you do it, then?" was Tom's defiant question; "I've learned
enough during the last few minutes to understand my rights, and if you
think I don't, now's the time to test it."

The officer went out muttering all sorts of things; and Tom, turning to
his employer, his breast heaving with indignation, said,--

"They have been plotting against me ever since I've been on the road. They
went with all kinds of stories to you, and now they've been trying to make
it appear that I am in the counterfeit business."

"But there must have been something tangible, or that detective would not
have come here with the charge."

"There was something;" and thereupon Tom told the story of the six shining
quarters.

His employer was angered, for he saw through it all; and from the
description of the donor, he recognized a worthless scamp who had been
discharged for stealing some time before Tom went on the route. The
detective was sent for, and the case laid before him. That night Mr. Dick
Horton, who made the charge, was arrested, and in his rooms were found
such proofs against him as a counterfeiter that, a few months later, he
went to Sing Sing for ten years.

For a time succeeding this incident Tom was left undisturbed in the
pursuit of his business, the occurrence becoming pretty generally known
and causing much sympathy for him.

It was about a month subsequent that Tom missed his afternoon train down
the river, and took another, which left later, not reaching New York till
late at night.

[Illustration: It was a fierce drive.]

As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands of
another newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderately
filled. Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was a
Texan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in the
corner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way to
suggest that he was asleep.

Seated next him was an individual who looked very much like the Italian
who had shoved his head into the door of Tom's room some months before.
This foreigner was watching the Californian--if such he was--as a cat
watches a mouse.

"I believe he means to rob him," was Tom's conclusion, who, without being
suspected by the scoundrel, was taking mental notes of the whole
proceeding.

The supposition was confirmed within five minutes, when the Italian,
leaning over toward the other, in an apparently careless manner, began
cautiously inserting his hand into his watch-pocket.

The instant Tom saw this, he bent forward and shook the Californian's
shoulder so vigorously that he started up, and demanded in a gruff voice
what was the matter. The Italian, of course, had withdrawn his hand like a
flash, and was leaning the other way, with his eyes half-closed, like one
sinking into a doze.

"I saw that man there," said Tom, pointing to the Italian, "with his hand
in your pocket, about to steal your watch, and I thought I'd best let you
know."

"Is that so?" demanded the stranger, a giant in stature, as he laid his
immense hand on the shoulder of the other, who started up as if just
aroused from sleep, and protested in broken English that he was not aware
of being seated with the gentleman at all.

His vehement declarations seemed to raise a doubt in the mind of the
Californian, who began an examination of his pockets. He found everything
right, and so declared.

"He was just beginning operations," said Tom in explanation, "when I woke
you."

"Bein' as he ain't took nothin', I won't knock the head off him," said the
Californian, as he announced himself to be; "but he ain't any business to
look so much like a sneaking dog, so I'll punch him on general
principles."

Whereupon he gave the fellow such a resounding cuff that he flopped out of
the seat, and, scrambling to his feet, hurried out of the car.

The Californian thanked Tom, and then resumed his nap.

In half an hour Tom found the tobacco-smoke so oppressive that he rose to
go into the next car. On the platform stood the discomfited Italian, who
seemed to be waiting for revenge.

"You lie of me," he muttered, before Tom suspected his danger. "I show
you."

With a quick push he gave the lad a violent shove, thrusting him entirely
off the platform and out upon the ground, fortunately clear of the rushing
wheels.

Chapter XIII.

The speed with which the train was running at the time Tom Gordon was
pushed off was such that he was thrown forward with great violence upon
the hard earth, where he lay senseless, with his leg broken and a number
of severe bruises about his body.

The only one who saw his fall was the miscreant that caused it; and it is
not necessary to say he made no alarm, and the train went whirling on to
its destination.

Tom's employers knew nothing of the accident; and putting on a temporary
substitute, they were constrained to believe, after several days' silence,
that he had left their service, some two or three boys coming forward to
declare that they had heard Tom say that such was his intention, as he had
received a good offer on the Erie road. The substitute was given to
understand that his situation was permanent, and the ill-used Tom was thus
thrown out of his situation.

After lying an hour or so on the ground he came to, and finding he was in
a sad plight, he set up a series of yells, which soon brought assistance
in the shape of a passing farmer, who lifted him into his wagon, carted
him home, and played the good Samaritan.

A physician was summoned, the broken limb set, and the patient was told
that all he had to do was to do nothing but lie still and get strong. The
farmer agreed that he should stay there, especially as the patient gave
him to understand that he would pay him for the service.

Here we leave Thomas Gordon for the time in good hands, while we turn our
attention to his friend, James Travers, who has been waiting too long for
notice.

The reader will recall that the morning succeeding the rescue of the
little girl from the river the two boys started out to hunt up something
to do in New York. The experience of both was quite similar through the
greater portion of the day, and we have dwelt fully upon what befell Tom.

Jim, with no better success, and fully as discouraged, set out on his
return, as the cold, wintry night was closing in, and he reached the long,
open street along the river without any incident worth notice; but while
walking wearily along, and when not far from his lodging-place, he was
accosted by a well-dressed man, who placed his hand on his shoulder and
said, in a pleasant voice,--

"I think you are looking for something to do, my son?"

"Yes, sir," was Jim's reply, his heart bounding with renewed hope at the
prospect of employment.

"Are you willing to do anything?"

"Anything that's honest and right."

"I wouldn't ask you to do what was not right," added the stranger, as if
he was hurt at the idea.

"What is it you want me to do?"

"How would you like to work on a vessel?"

"I was never on a ship in my life," said Jim, frightened at the thought of
the perils of the sea.

"That don't make any difference: you wouldn't have to serve as a sailor,
but as a sort of a cabin-boy; and not exactly that, either. I am the owner
of the boat, and want a clerk--a boy who can write letters, keep my
accounts, and make himself generally useful. I like your looks, and you
impress me as a boy of education."

"I think I could do all you ask; but where does your vessel sail?"

"Oh, she ain't a foreign ship, only a small schooner, engaged in the
coasting-trade down along the Jersey shore, sometimes going as far as the
capes, and occasionally making a trip up the Hudson. As navigation has
closed on the river, we sha'n't go up there before Spring."

"I think I would like the job," said Jim, who felt as if the vision shown
by Aladdin's lamp was opening before him. "What pay will you give if I
suit you?"

"I am willing to pay well for the boy. It will be twenty dollars a week
and found"---

"What!" exclaimed the astounded Jim, "did you say twenty dollars a
_week_?"

"That's just what I said. I'm one of those who are willing to pay well for
what they want."

"I'll take the situation; when do you want me to go?"

"As soon as possible--what do you say for to-morrow?"

"That will suit, as I have nothing in the world to do; I only want to run
down to the hotel and tell Tom."

"Who's Tom?"

"He's the boy that came with me from home; he'll be mightily pleased when
he hears the news."

"Suppose you walk down with me, and take a look at the boat; it isn't far
off."

As Jim could see no reason for refusing, and as he hadn't the slightest
thought of wrong, he replied that he would be glad to accept the
invitation; and the two started off toward the wharves.

The well-dressed gentleman, who gave his name as Mr. Hornblower, kept up a
running chat of the most interesting nature to Jim, who was sure he was
one of the finest persons he ever met. The walk was considerably longer
than Jim expected, and the man acted as if he had lost his way. He finally
recovered himself, and, pausing where a number of all kinds of boats were
gathered, he said that his schooner, the Simoon, lay on the outside, and
was to be reached by passing over the decks of several other boats.

These lay so close, that there was no difficulty or danger in traveling
over them, and they soon reached the deck of a trim-looking schooner,
which was as silent and apparently as deserted as the tomb. Reaching the
cabin, a light was seen shining through the crevices, and Mr. Hornblower
drew the small door aside, and invited his young companion to descend.

Jim did so, and found himself in an ordinary-looking cabin, quite well
furnished, and supplied with a couple of hammocks.

A small stove was burning, and the temperature was exceedingly pleasant
after the bleak air outside, where the raw wind blew strongly up the bay.

"I wouldn't want a better place than this to stay," said the delighted
lad, taking a seat on a camp-stool.

"Then I'll let you stay a while."

These strange words were uttered by the man who stood outside the door,
looking in at the lad with an odd smile on his countenance.

"What do you mean?" asked Jim, filled with a terrible fear.

"I mean just this: I want you to stay on the boat for the present. If you
keep quiet and do what is told you, you won't be hurt; but if you go to
howling and kicking up a rumpus, you'll be knocked in the head and pitched
overboard."

"But tell me why you have brought me here?" asked Jim, swallowing the
lump in his throat, and looking pleadingly up to the cruel stranger. "What
do you want of me?"

"We want a big thing of you, as you'll learn before long; but you mustn't
ask too many questions, nor try to get away, nor refuse to do what is told
you. If you do, your clock will be wound up in short order; but remember
what I've told you, and you'll be released after a while, without any harm
to you. I will now bid you good-night."

With this the man shut and fastened the door of the cabin, using a padlock
to do so.

The lad heard his footsteps as he walked rapidly over the deck, leaping
upon those adjoining, and quickly passing up the wharf.

"Well, this beats everything," remarked Jim with a great sigh, sitting
down again on the camp-stool.

As he sat thus in deep thought, it seemed to him, more than once, as if it
was all a hideous dream, and he pinched himself to make sure it was not.

What it all meant was more than he could figure out, or even guess. The
only possible solution he could hit upon was that this Hornblower, as he
called himself, was in need of a cabin-boy, or perhaps a sailor, and he
took this rather summary way of securing one, without the preliminary of
obtaining the consent of the party most concerned.

Whoever Mr. Hornblower might be, it looked as if he had made elaborate
preparations for the game played with such success.

"Poor Tom will be worried to death when he finds nothing of me," was the
natural fear of Jim, while turning over in his mind the extraordinary
situation in which he was placed. Despite the warning uttered by his
captor before leaving, the boy stole up the steps and stealthily tried the
door. It was fastened too securely for him to force it.

As he sat down again in the chair, he heard feet on the deck, and he
concluded that his master had come back to see whether all was right.

But the fellow did not touch the cabin-door; and a minute later the lad
noticed that two men were moving about, then the sounds showed that the
sail was being hoisted. He could distinguish their words as they exchanged
directions, and it was not long before the rippling water told that the
schooner was under way.

"Like enough they have started for China or the Cape of Good Hope, and I
won't see Tom again for years."

He sat still in the cabin, which was lit by a lamp suspended overhead, and
which soon became so warm from the stove and confined air, that he did
what he could to cool off the interior.

He had just finished this when he felt a draught of cold air, and looking
up, saw an ugly face peering down on him from the cabin door.

"Hello, you're down there, are you?" called out the man; "how do you like
it?"

"It's getting rather warm," answered Jim, hoping to make the best of a bad
business.

"If you find it too hot, come on deck and air yourself."

The lad accepted the invitation, and hastily ascended the few steps, his
chief object being to learn where he was.

Looking about in the gloom, he observed a ship under full sail on the
right, and a little farther off one on the left. In the former direction
he thought he discerned a faint dark line close to the water, which he
supposed showed where the shore lay.

"Then we are putting out to sea," was his conclusion, while he shivered in
the keen wind which swept over the deck.

The schooner had her mainsail and foresail up, both bellying far outward
under the impulse of the wind, while the hull keeled far over to the right
in response, and the foaming water at the bow told that she was making her
way at high speed toward her destination, wherever that might be.

As well as Jim could make out in the gloom, neither of the two men who
were managing the vessel was Hornblower.

"Where are we bound?" asked the prisoner, turning upon the one who
invited him to come out of the cabin.

"To the moon," was the unsatisfactory response.

Jim said no more, for he was afraid he might offend the fellow by pressing
his inquiries.

"I guess you'd better go below and sleep, for the likes of you ain't of
any use here."

The boy did as advised.

He saw no preparations for eating, but he was so wearied and anxious that
he felt little appetite; and, throwing himself in one of the hammocks, he
committed himself to the care of Heaven, and was soon asleep.

He never opened his eyes till roused by the smell of burning meat, and
looking up, saw one of the men cooking in the cabin, instead of on deck,
as it seemed to the lad ought to have been the case.

He now took a good survey of the countenances of the men. They did not
look particularly wicked, though both were hard and forbidding.

They paid scarcely any attention to the boy, but gave him to understand
that he was at liberty to eat if he wished.

Jim did so, and as soon as the meal was finished strolled on deck.

From the direction of the morning sun he saw they were sailing southward,
and the long stretch of land on the right he concluded must be the Jersey
coast.

Chapter XIV.

Such a bleak and piercing wind swept across the deck of the Simoon that
Jim Travers was glad to spend most of his time in the cabin, where a warm
fire was always going.

The first day out the boy succeeded in picking up a few scraps of
knowledge, which served rather to deepen than to clear up the mystery of
his abduction.

The schooner was a good sailer, and was well furnished with coal, wood,
water, and provisions, as if she were intended for a long voyage. There
was no real cargo, as he could see; and the two men who managed the craft
did not drop a word which could give any clew as to their destination.

It can scarcely be said that they treated the boy well or ill. Their
conduct was more of the character of indifference, since they paid not the
least attention to him, further than to notify him to keep out of their
way.

This indifference might be considered kindness, inasmuch as it relieved
the boy from attempting work which would have proven of a perilous nature.
This also relieved him in a great measure of the fear which made existence
a burden during the first twenty-four hours.

On the third morning out from New York, Jim made the discovery that the
rising sun was on his right, from which it was certain he was sailing
toward the north. Other evidence led him to conclude, from his knowledge
of geography, that they had entered Delaware Bay, and were approaching
Philadelphia.

"It's a queer way of getting back home again," was the reflection of the
boy when convinced of the fact.

However, the Simoon did not propose to visit the Quaker City just then,
and she came to anchor in a broad part of the bay, fully a half-mile from
shore.

It was late in the afternoon that this stop was made; and just as night
was closing in, a small boat containing two persons was discerned rowing
out from land. When they were nigh enough to board the schooner, Jim saw
that one was Mr. Hornblower, and the other was a herculean negro, who was
swaying the oars with the ease of a professional.

As both came on deck, the white man signified to the lad that he was to
follow him into the cabin, where the door was shut, and they sat down
facing each other.

"I might as well own that I deceived you when I pretended I wanted to hire
a clerk," began Hornblower, "but I had good reason for doing so; that
reason I can't give for the present. Now," and here Mr. Hornblower took a
pencil and note-book from his pocket, "I want to know your full name and
exact age."

These were truthfully given and carefully written down.

"Now I want to know all about your parents, their age, your father's
business, and various other matters which I shall ask you."

Jim had no reason to decline any information he was able to give, and he
furnished all his captor desired to know.

When the examination was finished, the note-book was closed, and Mr.
Hornblower asked, in the most friendly of tones,--

"Have they used you well?"

"They have," was the truthful reply.

"Do you know why?"

"I suppose because you instructed them to do so."

"It's not that, but because you behaved yourself; you haven't made any
trouble."

"I don't intend to do that, for there's nothing to gain by it. I haven't
any work to do, and may as well stay here as anywhere else."

"Remember what I told you; so long as you keep quiet you are safe, but
only on those conditions."

As the man rose to go, Jim plucked up enough courage to ask,--

"Will you be kind enough to let me know where we are going, and why it is
you make a prisoner of me?"

"Since you have behaved so well I suppose I might as well do so."

Hornblower opened his mouth to impart the information, when he changed his
mind and shook his head.

"It is scarcely best at present; good-evening."

As there seemed to be no objection to following him on deck, Jim did so,
much disappointed that he did not secure the information which was almost
his.

Hornblower stepped down into a boat and rowed off toward shore, leaving
the huge negro behind. It had become so dark that the boat, with its
single occupant, speedily faded from view in the night, though the sound
of the regularly swaying oars came back distinctly across the water until
shore was reached.

Jim was glad that the African, whom he heard addressed as Sam, was left
behind. He saw he was a good-natured fellow, and he believed he would be
able to gain something from him.

After supper was eaten, the schooner hoisted anchor and moved several
miles up the river, when it again lay to for the night.

Jim Travers went to bed again as much mystified as ever over the
explanation of his imprisonment on board the boat. Aside from this
inscrutable ignorance there was nothing very unpleasant, and he would have
been willing to make quite a lengthy stay, whether he received any wages
or not.

During the bitter cold weather, any one situated as he was might be
thankful if he could secure lodging for the winter.

"They needn't be so afraid of my running away," he often said to himself,
"for I would not be so foolish as to do that when I don't know where to
go. All that I wish is that they would give me the chance to send a letter
to Tom and let him know where I am. The poor fellow must be greatly
worried over me."

He ventured to ask whether he would be permitted to send a letter ashore,
but the refusal was given in such an angry manner that he regretted making
it.

Several days now followed, during which the schooner beat up and down
Delaware Bay without making a landing.

One night the vessel was caught in such a terrific blow that she came
within a hair of being driven on the Jersey shore. The two men, however,
were fine sailors, and assisted by the negro Sam, who was also an expert,
they safely rode through the gale.

In the course of a week they approached the wharves at Philadelphia, where
they were boarded by the proper officers. The latter seemed to find
everything all right on board the schooner, and departed, apparently
without noticing the boy standing near, who watched their motions with
great interest.

The Simoon lay at the wharf all night, which was unusually mild for that
season of the year.

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