The Simoon lay at the wharf all night, which was unusually mild for that season of the year.
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 tomorrow morning. You ought to start tonight.”
“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 lea
rned 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 tonight!”
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 today?”
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 158
