Phil, the Fiddler

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER VI

  THE BARROOM

  Phil did not leave the boat. He lingered in the cabin until thepassengers were seated, and after the boat was again under way began toplay. This time, however, he was not as fortunate as before. While inthe midst of a tune one of the men employed on the boat entered thecabin. At times he would not have interfered with him, but he happenedto be in ill humor, and this proved unfortunate for Phil.

  "Stop your noise, boy," he said.

  Phil looked up.

  "May I not play?"

  "No; nobody wants to hear you."

  The young fiddler did not dare to disobey. He saw that for the presenthis gains were at an end. However, he had enough to satisfy the rapacityof the padrone, and could afford to stop. He took a seat, and waitedquietly till the boat landed. One of the lady passengers, as she passedhim on her way out of the cabin, placed ten cents in his hand. Thisled him to count up his gains. He found they amounted to precisely twodollars and fifty cents.

  "I need not play any more," he thought. "I shall not be beatento-night."

  He found his seat so comfortable, especially after wandering about thestreets all day, that he remained on the boat for two more trips. Then,taking his violin under his arm, he went out on the pier.

  It was half-past seven o'clock. He would like to have gone to hislodging, but knew that it would not be permitted. In this respect theItalian fiddler is not as well off as those who ply other street trades.Newsboys and bootblacks are their own masters, and, whether theirearnings are little or great, reap the benefit of them themselves. Theycan stop work at six if they like, or earlier; but the little Italianmusician must remain in the street till near midnight, and then, aftera long and fatiguing day, he is liable to be beaten and sent to bedwithout his supper, unless he brings home a satisfactory sum of money.

  Phil walked about here and there in the lower part of the city. As hewas passing a barroom he was called in by the barkeeper.

  "Give us a tune, boy," he said.

  It was a low barroom, frequented by sailors and a rough set of customersof similar character. The red face of the barkeeper showed that he drankvery liberally, and the atmosphere was filled with the fumes of badcigars and bad liquor. The men were ready for a good time, as theycalled it, and it was at the suggestion of one of them that Phil hadbeen invited in.

  "Play a tune on your fiddle, you little ragamuffin," said one.

  Phil cared little how he was addressed. He was at the service of thepublic, and what he chiefly cared for was that he be paid for hisservices.

  "What shall I play?" he asked.

  "Anything," hiccoughed one. "It's all the same to me. I don't know onetune from another."

  The young fiddler played one of the popular airs of the day. He did notundertake to sing, for the atmosphere was so bad that he could hardlyavoid coughing. He was anxious to get out into the street, but he didnot wish to refuse playing. When he had finished his tune, one ofthose present, a sailor, cried, "That's good. Step up, boys, and have adrink."

  The invitation was readily accepted by all except Phil. Noticing thatthe boy kept his place, the sailor said, "Step up, boy, and wet yourwhistle."

  Phil liked the weak wines of his native land, but he did not care forthe poisonous decoctions of be found in such places.

  "I am not thirsty," he said.

  "Yes, you are; here, give this boy a glass of brandy."

  "I do not want it," said Phil.

  "You won't drink with us," exclaimed the sailor, who had then enough tobe quarrelsome. "Then I'll make you;" and he brought down his fist soheavily upon the counter as to make the glasses rattle. "Then I'll makeyou. Here, give me a glass, and I'll pour it down his throat."

  The fiddler was frightened at his vehemence, and darted to the door. Butthe sailor was too quick for him. Overtaking Phil, he dragged himback with a rough grasp, and held out his hand for the glass. But anunexpected friend now turned up.

  "Oh, let the boy go, Jack," said a fellow sailor. "If he don't want todrink, don't force him."

  But his persecutor was made ugly by his potations, and swore that Philshould drink before he left the barroom.

  "That he shall not," said his new friend.

  "Who is to prevent it?" demanded Jack, fiercely.

  "I will."

  "Then I'll pour a glass down your throat, too," returned Jack,menacingly.

  "No need of that. I am ready enough to drink. But the boy shan't drink,if he don't want to."

  "He shall!" retorted the first sailor, with an oath.

  Still holding Phil by the shoulder with one hand, with the other he tooka glass which had just been filled with brandy; he was about to pour itdown his throat, when the glass was suddenly dashed from his hand andbroke upon the floor.

  With a fresh oath Jack released his hold on Phil, and, maddened withrage, threw himself upon the other. Instantly there was a general melee.Phil did not wait to see the result. He ran to the door, and, emerginginto the street, ran away till he had placed a considerable distancebetween himself and the disorderly and drunken party in the barroom. Thefight there continued until the police, attracted by the noise, forcedan entrance and carried away the whole party to the station-house, wherethey had a chance to sleep off their potations.

  Freed from immediate danger, the young fiddler kept on his way. He hadwitnessed such scenes before, as he had often been into barrooms toplay in the evening. He had not been paid for his trouble, but he caredlittle for that, as the money would have done him no good. He would onlyhave been compelled to pass it over to the padrone. These boys, evenat a tender age, are necessarily made familiar with the darker side ofmetropolitan life. Vice and crime are displayed before their young eyes,and if they do not themselves become vicious, it is not for the want ofknowledge and example.

  It would be tedious to follow Phil in his wanderings. We have alreadyhad a glimpse of the manner in which the days passed with him; onlyit is to be said that this was a favorable specimen. He had been morefortunate in collecting money than usual. Besides, he had had a betterdinner than usual, thanks to the apple, and a supper such as he had nottasted for months.

  About ten o'clock, as he was walking on the Bowery, he met Giacomo, hiscompanion of the morning.

  The little boy was dragging one foot after the other wearily. There wasa sad look on his young face, for he had not been successful, and heknew too well how he would be received by the padrone. Yet his facelighted up as he saw Phil. Often before Phil had encouraged him when hewas despondent. He looked upon our young hero as his only friend; forthere was no other of the boys who seemed to care for him or able tohelp him.

  "Is it you, Filippo?" he said.

  "Yes, Giacomo. What luck have you had?"

  "Not much. I have only a little more than a dollar. I am so tired; but Idon't dare go back. The padrone will beat me."

  An idea came to Phil. He did not know how much money he had; but he wassure it must be considerably more than two dollars, Why should he notgive some to his friend to make up his deficiencies, and so perhaps savehim from punishment?

  "I have had better luck," he said. "I have almost three dollars."

  "You are always luckier than I, Filippo."

  "I am stronger, Giacomo. It does not tire me so much to walk about."

  "You can sing, too. I cannot sing very much, and I do not get so muchmoney."

  "Tell me just how much money you have, Giacomo."

  "I have a dollar and thirty cents," said Giacomo, after counting thecontents of his pockets.

  Meanwhile Phil had been doing the same thing. The result of his countwas that he found he had two dollars and eighty cents.

  "Listen, Giacomo," he said. "I will give you enough to make twodollars."

  "But then you will be beaten."

  "No; I shall have two dollars and five cents left. Then neither of uswill get beaten."

  "How kind you are, Filippo!"

  "Oh, it is nothing. Besides, I do not want to carry
too much, or thepadrone will expect me to bring as much every day, and that I cannot do.So it will be better for us both."

  The transfer was quickly made, and the two boys kept together until theyheard the clock strike eleven. It was now so late that they determinedto return to their miserable lodging, for both were tired and longed forsleep.