Brave Tom by Edward S. Ellis

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The cabin door was open and the negro was on duty, while one of the men
was asleep in the hammock over Jim's head.

The second sailor had gone up-town somewhere, and there was no telling
when he would return.

The lad was nearly asleep, when he heard footsteps on deck; and in the dim
light from the lamp he observed the missing sailor coming down the steps,
followed closely by Hornblower. When they were fairly within they shut the
door, and the seaman turned up the wick of the lamp overhead.

A fancy struck Jim at this moment that he would pretend he was
unconscious, though he had little hope of gaining anything by it.

As soon as the light filled the apartment, Hornblower looked over at the
two forms stretched out in the hammocks, and asked in a whisper,--

"Are they asleep?"

The sailor leaned over each in turn, and carefully surveyed the features
and listened to the breathing.

"Yes; they don't know any more than a couple of logs."

"I wouldn't have the boy overhear us for the world."

"There ain't any danger of that."

Thus believing, the two men talked business straight along.

"It won't do to stay here any longer," said Hornblower.

"Why not?"

"Because it's dangerous; you was such a fool yesterday as to allow the boy
on deck when the officer was there, and he couldn't help noticing him."

"But they didn't speak to each other, and if the officer had suspected
anything he would have showed it."

"Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't; you must know that the boy's
photograph has been scattered over the country, and he is likely to be
recognized by any countryman."

"How are you making out with the negotiations?"

"It all looks well enough, if you don't spoil it by your tomfoolery. I
should not have been surprised to find you had allowed him to go ashore to
look around a little. You must leave here to-morrow morning. You ought to
start to-night."

"I can do so if you wish it," said the sailor, rather sulkily.

"It might draw suspicion to you. No, you can wait till daylight, and then
be off."

"It shall be done."

"We have managed to throw everybody off the scent pretty well. They seem
to have all sorts of theories except the right one. It has got into the
newspapers, of course. Some think the boy has been taken to England,
others that he is in the South, and others have sworn that he has been
seen in company with a man and woman in Canada; but no one imagines as yet
that he is on board the schooner Simoon, in the Delaware."

"How have you made out in your correspondence with the guardians?"

"They have agreed to give me ten thousand dollars if I restore the boy to
them, and I have concluded to take it; but you understand, Bob, that it's
a mighty delicate matter to handle."

"I rather think it is," growled Bob in reply; "for if they manage to
handle us, we'll fetch up in State prison as sure as we live."

"We'd be glad to get there away from the mob," said Hornblower; "for, the
way people feel over this business, they would act like a lot of famished
lions toward us."

"If they agree to give what you ask, why don't you turn over the chap to
them and have done with the whole business? I'm getting tired of dodging
about in this fashion, never knowing when they're going to drop down on
us, and feeling as if the prison-door was open just ahead. It's got to be
wound up pretty soon, or I'll step out and let you finish it yourself."

"Have patience," said Hornblower in a conciliatory voice; "it will all
come right, for we've the game in our own hands."

"Why the delay, then?"

"There's fear of the police; they mixed in, and they're bound to scoop us
if they can, and cheat us out of the money."

"There's been a big reward offered by the guardians themselves?"

"Yes. The officers have that as well as the glory of victory to urge them
on, and they won't let a chance slip."

"Have you put it to the guardians strong?"

"You'd better believe I have. I told them that at the first attempt they
made to play us false, the boy would be sent home to them in a coffin.
They understand that."

"Then, why don't they play square?"

"They would if it wasn't for the detectives. But with the help of the
parents I think we can pull through all straight."

"In how long a time?"

"Two or three weeks. In the meantime go on south, and I'll keep track of
you and let you know what to do."

With these parting directions the conversation ended. Mr. Hornblower
produced a flask of whisky, the two drank each other's health, and the
visitor departed.

Shortly after Bob, the sailor, turned in for the night.

Chapter XV.

Jim Travers, as he lay in his hammock, overheard every word which the two
men had said, and considerable more to the same effect.

Unusually bright and mentally strong as he was, he comprehended it all,
and read the scheme as if in a printed book.

Hornblower, seeing him making his way along the wharf in New York, had
formed the plan of abducting him, and then securing a large reward from
the parents or guardian for his return. Accordingly he stole and placed
him in charge of his gang on the schooner, and then began negotiations
with the guardians for his return.

Here a strange combination of circumstances came about.

One of the most pathetic facts that came to light regarding the abduction
of Charley Ross, was the great number of other children that have been
found who had been lost for months and years.

There can be no doubt that a regularly organized system of child-stealing
prevails in this country, and there are at this hour hundreds of mothers
and fathers separated from their beloved offspring through the deviltry
of these kidnappers.

Hornblower must have supposed, from the appearance of Jim Travers, that he
was the son of well-to-do parents, who would "come down" handsomely for
his return. The extraordinary part of the business was, that, on the
morning succeeding Jim's abduction, there appeared in the papers an
account of the disappearance of a boy from Philadelphia, with the promise
of a liberal reward for any information that would lead to his return.
This account did not correspond entirely with the circumstances under
which Jim was taken, but the main facts were such that Hornblower was
satisfied he had the right lad in his keeping.

When Hornblower questioned Jim so closely in the cabin and took down his
replies, he had not a particle of doubt that the boy was telling him a
tissue of falsehoods from beginning to end. Toward the close of the
examination, however, it began to dawn on the abductor that possibly he
had made an error. Be that as it might, he was none the less convinced
that he had a bonanza in his hands, and one which could be made to serve
him as well as the original himself.

His captive corresponded so closely to the one advertised that he could be
made to pass muster as such, and the reward secured. This, it would seem,
was almost an impossible task, but Hornblower was confident of success.

This explanation will serve to show why he took the precautions which had
excited the impatience of his confederate, Bob.

Jim Travers did not know all this, but he easily understood from the
conversation of the two conspirators that he had been stolen for the sake
of making money out of his return.

"What a great mistake they have made," he thought; "there isn't any one in
the wide world that would give three cents to have me returned."

He concluded to stay quietly on board the schooner and let matters take
their course, as it did not occur to him that any personal danger might
arise from future complications. Could he have dreamed of what was coming,
he would have jumped overboard and risked drowning in his attempt to reach
land.

Jim had learned enough from the conversation in the cabin to keep him
awake until midnight. It was near morning when he dropped off into
slumber, which was not broken until the forenoon of the succeeding day was
half gone.

When he went on deck, he saw that the schooner was far below the city, and
standing straight toward the ocean. The weather was again cold, so he kept
within the cabin most of the time.

That night the negro Sam complained of feeling unwell, and threw his
massive form into his hammock, in the hope of becoming better after a
short rest. His sickness was not of a serious nature; but when such a big
man falls ill there is a great deal of it, and the African instantly
formed the belief that he was going to die, certain sure.

He groaned, and cried, until Jim himself became frightened, and went on
deck to ask the others to look after him. They replied that there was
nothing the matter with Sam, and that he would soon come around all right.

Jim did his best to relieve the negro, giving him the few simple remedies
at hand, in the hope that he would drop off to sleep. Sure enough, in the
course of half an hour Sam did fall asleep, and when he awoke, an hour
later, was well; and, fully appreciating Jim's kind attentions, said to
him, leaning on his enormous elbow in the hammock,--

"Tell you what, sonny, yous been mighty kind to me, and _I'll remember
you_, dat's what I'll do."

"You would have done the same for me, Sam."

"S'pose I would; but dar ain't many dat would hab done it for me, and I
_won't forget you_. But wasn't I 'bout de sickest coon dat you eber seen?"

"You seemed to feel very bad," replied Jim.

"Feel bad? you'd better beleib I did! Do you know what de matter wid me?"

"No."

"I had de Norf American cholera; dat's worse dan de African. I also had
the pneumonia, and de bronchitis, and de measles, and de small-pox, and
the cholly-wampus--all at the same time. Do you wonder dat I groaned?"

"I shouldn't think you could groan at all, if you had so many diseases as
that."

"Dar's war my toughness and wrastling powers show themselves. I just
wrastled and wrastled, and I frowed 'em all."

Sam swung his huge legs out of the hammock, took a seat near Jim, and,
reaching out, he gently closed his immense fist around the little white
hand of the boy. Then leaning forward until his black face, as broad as
the moon, was almost against Jim's, he whispered,--

"Yous been mighty kind to me, sonny, and, as I obsarved befor', I ain't de
one to forget it. Now, don't you disremember what I toles you. You tink
it's all nice and pleasant here on de boat, and so it am jis' now, but
dar's _breakers ahead!_ Dat boss ob mine am one ob de biggest debbils dat
am runnin' loose. Ef I should tell yous all dat I know 'bout him, your
hair would rose up and stick frough de roof wid horror. Can you swim,
sonny?"

"I am a good swimmer."

"Berry well; I'm mighty glad to hear dat; it's likely dat you'll hab to
swim for your life one ob dese days. Don't roll your eyes so--I don't
mean dat we's going to be wracked. But what I want to say am dat you must
keep mum, and don't let on dat you don't know nuffin. Don't act as though
you and me was much friends when de rest am 'bout, but you know dat I'm
jis' de best one dat you'll eber find."

"I understand all that," said Jim, who saw that the plan was only a simple
precaution against drawing suspicion to them; "but I had no thought that
any one would want to hurt me."

"Yous young, and don't understand dem tings like us better eddycated
gem'man. Old Hornblower am trying to sell you; and if he can't do it, and
tinks dat de ossifers am coming down on him, why he'll jis' chuck you
oberboard and dar'll be de end ob it. You see, yous a purty big boy to
steal, and if he lets you go, he'll be likely to hear from you again."

Jim thanked his new friend from the bottom of his heart, and asked him
what was the best thing to do.

"_Run away!_" was the emphatic reply.

"But I don't get any chance when they're close to shore. I am watched all
the while, and they are so far off at other times that I hardly dare try
it."

"I'll tell yous what to do; jis' wait till I lets you know dat de time am
come."

Jim agreed to this, and the African shortly after went on deck, while the
boy turned in for the night.

From this time forth the captive lost his reckoning altogether, and could
form no definite idea of the part of the world in which they were
cruising. He supposed they were somewhere along the Virginia or North
Carolina coast. At intervals of a day or two they ran in within sight of
some town, and the sailor known as Bob went ashore in the boat.

On these occasions there could be no doubt that he met Hornblower, and
that the schooner was playing her part in a drama which was likely to end
in a tragedy.

Fortified by the presence of such a friend as the negro Sam, Jim
determined to write a note to Tom, telling him what had happened, and
promising to return to him as soon as possible.

He had no trouble securing paper and the occasion; and when finished, he
intrusted the missive to Sam, with the strictest injunctions to drop it
into the office at the first town where he landed.

The negro did his best, and a week later, when he went ashore, he inquired
for the post-office, which he found after much trouble and delay. But he
had lost the letter, and truth compelled him to report the sad fact to his
young friend.

After that Jim did not run the risk of a second attempt.

"Providence will bring me out all right some day," was his conclusion;
"and then Tom and I will talk it all over."

The schooner coasted up and down for weeks and months, until spring.

During this period she had spent days in ports where Jim could not gain
the chance to find out the name of the town even.

Sam's ignorance was so dense that even if he heard the place called out,
he could not remember it ten minutes.

Several times Hornblower had appeared on board the vessel; but he held no
communication with Jim, nor could the latter gain any additional knowledge
of how he was progressing with his negotiations.

In the presence of others there was always a coolness between Sam and the
boy, and it was impossible that either of the sailors should have
suspected the strong friendship that bound the two together.

The fact that the vessel was working her way northward again made Jim
uneasy; for it convinced him that a crisis was at hand, and his fate was
likely to be determined one way or the other very soon.

Sam was of the same belief, as he took occasion to say when the chance
offered. Adding that he would keep his eyes and ears open.

On a beautiful day in spring the Simoon entered New York Bay, and Jim
resolved to seize the first opportunity to escape. The sight of the great
city filled him with such longings to see his old friend Tom, that he
could scarcely conceal his impatience from the others.

A grievous disappointment awaited him.

So strict a surveillance was kept over him, that no artifice was
sufficient to secure the coveted chance.

That night Hornblower was on board, and a long and angry conference took
place forward between him and Bob.

Jim would have given the world could he have learned what it was; but
neither he nor Sam was allowed to catch a single expression.

The next morning the Simoon left the wharf and started up the Hudson. Mr.
Hornblower had decided to effect a "change of venue."

Chapter XVI.

But for the dark fear which impended over him, James Travers would have
looked upon his sail up the Hudson on that spring morning as one of the
most delightful experiences of his life.

The sky was clear as Italy's; the air was balmy, and the steamers and
shipping on the broad stream, as well as the roar of the train thundering
along shore, formed an element in the romantic scenery which has well
given the name of the Rhine of America to that noble river.

But the boy had little heart for all these. He was speculating upon the
probabilities of the near future.

It was during the afternoon, while gliding up the river, that they passed
so close to a downward-bound steamer that the features of the passengers
on deck were plainly seen.

Jim was leaning idly on the gunwale, looking at them, when he observed a
lady, with a child seated beside her, the mother pointing out to the child
the varied beauties of the scene as they moved swiftly by. He straightened
up on the instant, as if he had received an electric shock; for the
conviction came like a flash that he had seen the face of that child
before.

But where? He might as well have asked himself what there was in such a
sweet, angelic countenance to affect him so strangely.

Ah! he had it. That was the girl that Tom had rescued from the icy water
the winter before.

Going in opposite directions, and with such speed, the steamer and
schooner were soon far apart, and the straining gaze of the lad was unable
to tell where the mother and child were seated.

The two had not even looked at him, and he could only sigh that the
glimpse was such a passing one.

"I wonder whether Tom has ever seen them since. He would be a great deal
more delighted than I."

The Simoon sailed steadily upward till the day wore by, by which time she
was a good many miles above the metropolis.

It was no more than fairly dark when Sam managed to whisper in the ear of
the boy,--

"_You mus' leab de boat to-night!_"

These were alarming words, though the lad could not understand how harm to
him was to benefit any one, unless it was that Hornblower and his
confederates were afraid of the consequences of discovery, and prefered to
act on the principle that dead boys can tell no tales.

The night was pleasant, with a faint moon, and the Simoon dropped anchor
within a few hundred yards of shore.

The distance was one that Jim could swim with ease. All he asked was the
opportunity.

The two sailors seemed to suspect some scheme of escape was in the boy's
head, or else they must have noticed the chance was a very tempting one.

"Why should they think I want to run away," Jim asked himself, "when I've
had a hundred chances before to-day?"

Why it was they were more than usually careful it was hard to understand;
but that such was the fact could not be overlooked.

It might be they were watching for the arrival of some one else, or,
knowing that something important was on hand for that night, they were on
the alert.

Poor Sam was in a state of great agitation, and made an awkward attempt to
assist his young friend.

He offered to act as watch through the night, but the offer was declined.

They intended to keep the decks themselves.

"Dar's mischief a-brewin'," he whispered, "and yous had better git out ob
dis unarthly place jist as quick as de good Lord will let you."

Which was precisely what Jim meant to do, as soon as Providence would open
the way.

As the only chance was by a bold stroke, and as there was no telling the
precise moment when the danger would burst upon him, Jim Travers did not
wait long.

Creeping softly up the short stairs, Jim raised his head barely enough to
see where the crew were.

The two sailors were standing aft, talking together in low tones. Probably
they were discussing at that very moment the best plan of disposing of the
boy, who had become a dangerous encumbrance to them and their employer.

It was more than likely that Hornblower had failed in his attempt to
secure a ransom for the child, who was not the one for whom the other
parties were negotiating.

The age of the captive was such that his liberty would prove fatal to his
abductors.

Sam, the burly negro, was leaning against the mainmast, probably torturing
his thick skull as to the best means of helping his young friend, whom he
loved so well.

Jim saw enough, and, creeping out of the cabin, he crawled down over the
rudder, upon which he rested a few seconds, while he made ready for his
venture. He could see the dark bank, and he wished that the moon would
hide itself behind a thick cloud, the better to give him a chance. But the
sky was clear, and it might be fatal to wait any longer.

With a muttered prayer to Heaven not to desert him in his peril, he let
himself down in the river, and struck out for the shore. He proceeded with
all the care and stillness of which he was capable; but he had taken no
more than half a dozen strokes, when he was seen by both the sailors.

"Hello! what's that?" asked Bob, running to the stern of the vessel, and
peering over in the gloom.

"I guess it am a whale," suggested Sam, anxious to befriend the lad.

"A whale!" repeated the man with an oath, "it's that kid. Hello, there!
Stop, or I'll shoot you!"

And he pointed his revolver at the head of Jim, who, instead of heeding
the command, sank beneath the surface, swimming as far as he could before
coming up. When he reappeared he was a dozen yards from the schooner.

The very moment he came up the villain discharged two shots from his
pistol directly at his head.

"Look out, or dey'll hit yous!" called Sam, unable to repress his
solicitude for the boy.

Could the miscreant finish the lad when swimming, it would be as good a
way as any to dispose of him.

It looked as if he had succeeded, for Jim uttered a groan, and sank out of
sight.

But it was only a trick intended to deceive the sailor.

The latter observed the head as it reappeared, still nearer shore, and he
fired again, two shots, as before. The other sailor, fearful of a miss,
was hastily lowering a boat.

He worked so expeditiously that the craft dropped into the water the next
minute. Both sprang into the boat, and began rowing with might and main in
pursuit of the fugitive.

Poor Sam could only stay on deck, in a torment of fear, while he prayed
the good Lord to protect the boy.

When the little boat left the side of the larger one, Jim Travers had
improved the precious moments to the utmost.

He had already passed over the greater part of the intervening distance,
and never in all his life did he swim as now. And there was need of it,
for the pursuers were determined he should not escape them.

Providentially, none of the bullets had struck him, though one or two had
passed very near.

Jim cast a terrified glance over his shoulder, and saw the boat coming
with great speed toward him.

There was no escape by diving, for there was too much light from the moon.

He must reach land far enough in advance to give him an opportunity to
flee or hide himself.

A second after, Jim dropped his feet, and they touched bottom.
Straightening up, he found the water reached only to his waist; and, with
all the strength of which he was master, he fought his way to dry land,
and hurried up the bank.

The pursuers were close behind him, and both fired, the boat being so
near that the impetus already given by the oars carried it hard against
the shore.

It was the best spot possible for the fugitive to land, being covered with
wood and undergrowth, extending almost to the verge of the river itself.

Directly into this Jim plunged and ran with the speed of a frightened
deer, until he had gone a few rods, when he darted to one side, ran a
little farther, and dropped flat on his face. For a moment, while he lay
listening, he heard nothing but the thumping of his own heart, which he
feared would betray him.

In the silence he wondered what had become of his pursuers.

Had they given up the chase, believing the fugitive was gone beyond
recovery?

Jim had no more than asked himself the question when he heard them moving
through the undergrowth, a great deal closer than was agreeable. Worse
still, they were approaching him, and discussing the question while doing
so.

"He didn't run far," said one, whose voice the lad recognized as belonging
to Bob.

"No; he must be hiding somewhere close by; we've each a charge left, and
we'll keep it ready to fire when he shows himself."

"Yes, he must be somewhere around here, and we'll scare him up before
long," was the assuring expression.

It looked very much as if they would keep their word, and Jim was sure he
would have to move his quarters to escape discovery. This was a matter of
exceeding difficulty, for the wretches were listening for some such noise,
which would betray their victim.

They seemed to be pursuing the hunt in a scientific manner, by walking
back and forth over a certain area, gradually verging to the right, which
was where Jim was crouching.

The boy succeeded in creeping a dozen feet, perhaps, without drawing
attention to himself, when he was brought to a standstill by coming
squarely against a fence, whose rails were too close together to allow his
body to pass through.

Jim was in an agony of fear, for the two were steadily drawing near him.

When he was in despair there came the flutter of a bird in precisely the
opposite direction, and the suspicion of the sailors immediately turned
thitherward.

This was Jim's golden opportunity, and he was over the obstruction in a
twinkling. But the fates seemed against him. Just as he left the top rail,
it broke with a loud crash; and, feeling that everything now depended on
his fleetness, he made his legs do their duty. Once over the fence, the
fugitive found he was in the broad, open highway, along which he darted
like a lad whose life was at stake.

As there was a light gleaming only a short way ahead, his enemies must
have seen that it was hardly a safe thing to pursue their evil intent any
farther.

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