Cringle and cross-tree
Date: 2023-08-24T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: Cringle and cross-tree

Or, the sea swashes of a sailor

Author: Oliver Optic

Release date: August 24, 2023 [eBook #71482]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Lee and Shepard, Publishers, 1871

Credits: hekula03, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE ***

THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES.

CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;

OR,

THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.

BY OLIVER OPTIC

AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,"
"THE STARRY FLAG SERIES," "THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES," ETC.

WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS.

BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.

NEW YORK:
LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.

1873.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871,
By WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
19 Spring Lane.

TO
MY YOUNG FRIEND
JOSEPH H. KERNOCHAN
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

"Cringle and Cross-Tree" is the fourth of the Upward and Onward Series, in which Phil Farringford, the hero of these stories, appears as a sailor, and makes a voyage to the coast of Africa. His earlier experience in the yacht on Lake Michigan had, in some measure, prepared him for a nautical life, and he readily adapts himself to the new situation. Being a young man of energy and determination, who puts his whole soul into the business in which he is engaged, he rapidly masters his new calling. His companions in the forecastle are below the average standard of character in the mercantile marine; but Phil, constantly true to his Christian principles, obtains an influence over some of them,—for vice always respects virtue,—which results in the permanent reform of two of his shipmates.

Fifteen years ago the fitting out of a slaver in New York harbor was not an uncommon occurrence, though, happily, now the business is wholly suppressed. What was possible then is not possible now; but the hero of the story, and many of his shipmates, regarded the horrible traffic with abhorrence, and succeeded in defeating the purposes of the voyage upon which they were entrapped. In such a work their experience was necessarily exciting, and the incidents of the story are stirring enough to engage the attention of the young reader. But they were battling for right, truth, and justice; and every step in this direction must be upward and onward.

In temptation, trial, and adversity, as well as in prosperity and happiness, Phil Farringford continues to read his Bible, to practise the virtues he has learned in the church, the Sunday school, and of Christian friends, and to pray on sea and on land for strength and guidance; and the writer commends his example, in these respects, to all who may be interested in his active career.

Harrison Square, Boston, August 21, 1871.

CONTENTS.

I. | In which Phil talks of going to Sea, and meets an old Acquaintance.
II. | In which Phil starts for New York, and is stopped on the way.
III. | In which Phil goes east, and meets Captain Farraday.
IV. | In which Phil visits the Bark Michigan, and looks after his Finances.
V. | In which Phil moralizes over his Loss, and hears from St. Louis.
VI. | In which Phil signs the Shipping Papers, and recognizes the new Mate.
VII. | In which Phil attempts to escape from the Bark Michigan.
VIII. | In which Phil finds himself a Prisoner, and finds something else.
IX. | In which Phil finds himself rated as an able Seaman in the Port Watch.
X. | In which Phil stands his Watch, and takes his Trick at the Wheel.
XI. | In which Phil makes a Cringle, and visits the Cross-trees.
XII. | In which Phil ascertains the Destination of the Michigan.
XIII. | In which Phil goes aft, with others of the Crew, and then goes forward.
XIV. | In which Phil speaks for Truth and Justice, and a Sail is discovered.
XV. | In which Phil is assigned to an important Position by his Shipmates.
XVI. | In which Phil finds himself a Prisoner in the Steerage.
XVII. | In which Phil becomes better acquainted with the Cabin Steward.
XVIII. | In which Phil and others visit the Cabin of the Bark.
XIX. | In which Phil and his Companions obtain Possession of the Michigan.
XX. | In which Phil argues a Point with Waterford, and mounts Guard in the Steerage.
XXI. | In which Phil becomes Second Mate of the Michigan.
XXII. | In which Phil lays down the Law, and is afterwards much alarmed.
XXIII. | In which Phil counsels Prudence, and resorts to Strategy.
XXIV. | In which Phil prepares for a Struggle, and opens the Fore Scuttle.
XXV. | In which Phil completes the Victory, and empties the Rum Barrels.
XXVI. | In which Phil reaches New York, meets the Gracewoods, and abandons Cringle and Cross-tree.

CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;

OR,

THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.

CHAPTER I.

IN WHICH PHIL TALKS OF GOING TO SEA, AND MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

"I have a very decided fancy for going to sea, father."

"Going to sea!" exclaimed my father, opening his eyes with astonishment. "What in the world put that idea into your head?"

I could not exactly tell what had put it there, but it was there. I had just returned to St. Louis from Chicago, where I had spent two years at the desk. I had been brought up in the wilds of the Upper Missouri, where only a semi-civilization prevails, even among the white settlers. I had worked at carpentering for two years, and I had come to the conclusion that neither the life of a clerk nor that of a carpenter suited me. I had done well at both; for though I was only eighteen, I had saved about twelve hundred dollars of my own earnings, which, added to other sums, that had fallen to me, made me rich in the sum of thirty-five hundred dollars.

My life in the backwoods and my campaign with the Indians had given me a taste for adventure. I wished to see more of the world. But I am sure I should not have yielded to this fancy if it had been a mere whim, as it is in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred with boys. I had never left, of my own accord, a place where I worked: the places had left me. The carpenter with whom I had served my apprenticeship gave up business, and the firm that had employed me as assistant book-keeper was dissolved by the death of the junior partner. I was again out of business, and I was determined to settle what seemed to be the problem of my life before I engaged in any other enterprise.

For eleven years of my life I had known no parents. They believed that I had perished in the waters of the Upper Missouri. I had found my father, who had been a miserable sot, but was now, an honest, sober, Christian man, in a responsible position, which yielded him a salary of three thousand dollars a year. But while he was the degraded being I had first seen him, his wife had fled from him to the protection and care of her wealthy father. My mother had suffered so much from my father's terrible infirmity, that she was glad to escape from him, and to enjoy a milder misery in her own loneliness.

Though my father had reformed his life, and become a better man than ever before, he found it impossible to recover the companion of his early years. She had been in Europe five years, where the health of her brother's wife required him to live. My father had written to Mr. Collingsby, my grandfather, and I had told him, face to face, that I was his daughter's son; but I had been indignantly spurned and repelled. My mother's family seemed to have used every possible effort to keep both my father and myself from communicating with her. She had spent the winter in Nice, and was expected to remain there till May.

Phil's Interview with his Grandfather.

I had never seen my mother since I was two years old. I had no remembrance of her, and I did not feel that I could settle down upon the business of life till I had told her the strange story of my safety, and gathered together our little family under one roof. Existence seemed to be no longer tolerable unless I could attain this desirable result. Nice was on the Mediterranean, and, with little or no idea of the life of a sailor, I wanted to make a voyage to that sea.

I had served the firm of Collingsby & Faxon in Chicago as faithfully as I knew how; I had pursued and captured the former junior partner of the firm, who had attempted to swindle his associate; and for this service my grandfather and his son had presented me the yacht in which the defaulter had attempted to escape. In this craft I had imbibed a taste for nautical matters, and I wished to enlarge my experience on the broad ocean, which I had never seen.

In pursuing Mr. Collingsby's junior partner, I had run athwart the hawse of Mr. Ben Waterford, a reckless speculator, and the associate of the defaulter, who had attempted to elope with my fair cousin, Marian Collingsby. I had thus won the regard of the Collingsbys, while I had incurred the everlasting hatred of Mr. Waterford, whose malice and revenge I was yet to feel. But in spite of the good character I had established, and the service I had rendered, the family of my mother refused to recognize me, or even to hear the evidence of my relationship. I thought that they hated my father, and intended to do all they could to keep him from seeing her. Her stay in Europe was prolonged, and I feared that her father and brother were using their influence to keep her there, in order to prevent my father or me from seeing her.

I was determined to see her, and to fight my way into her presence if necessary. At the same time I wanted to learn all about a ship, and about navigation. I had flattered myself that I should make a good sailor, and I had spent my evenings, during the last year of my stay in Chicago, in studying navigation. Though I had never seen the ocean, I had worked up all the problems laid down in the books. I wanted to go to sea, and to make my way from a common sailor up to the command of a ship. I say I wanted to do this, and the thought of it furnished abundant food for my imagination; but I cannot say that I ever expected to realize my nautical ambition. I had borrowed a sextant, and used it on board of my boat, so that I was practically skilled in its use. I had taken the latitude and longitude of many points on Lake Michigan, and proved the correctness of my figures by comparing them with the books.

I intended to go to Nice, whether I went to sea as a sailor or not. I had sold my boat for eight hundred dollars, and with seven hundred more I had saved from my salary, I had fifteen hundred dollars, which I was willing to devote to the trip to Europe. But somehow it seemed to go against my grain to pay a hundred dollars or more for my passage, when I wanted to obtain knowledge and experience as a sailor. I preferred to take a place among the old salts in the forecastle, go aloft, hand, reef, and steer, to idling away my time in the cabin.

"I want to be a sailor, father," I added. "I want to know the business, at least."

"I'm afraid that boat on the lake has turned your head, Philip," said my father. "Why, you never even saw the ocean."

"Well, I have seen the lake, and the ocean cannot be very much different from it, except in extent."

"But the life of a sailor is a miserable one. You will be crowded into a dirty forecastle with the hardest kind of men."

"I am willing to take things as they come. I am going to Nice, at any rate, and I may as well work my passage there, and learn what I wish to know, as to be a gentleman in the cabin."

"You are old enough to think for yourself, Philip; but in my opinion, one voyage will satisfy you."

"If it does, that's the end of the idea."

"Do you expect to go to work in a ship just as you would in a store, and leave her when it suits your own convenience?" asked my father, with a smile.

"I can ship to some port on the Mediterranean, and leave the vessel when she reaches her destination."

"I think not. I believe sailors ship for the voyage out and home, though you may be able to make such an arrangement as you propose. I don't like your plan, Philip. You are going to find your mother. It is now the middle of March. If you get off by the first of April, you may make a long passage, and perhaps not reach Nice till your mother has gone from there."

"I shall follow her, if I go all over Europe," I replied.

"But don't you think it is absurd to subject yourself and me to all this uncertainty?"

"Perhaps it is; but I wanted to kill two birds with one stone."

"When you throw one stone at two birds, you are pretty sure to hit neither of them. Be sensible, Philip. Go to New York, take a steamer to Liverpool or Havre, and then proceed to Nice by railroad. You will be there in a fortnight after you start."

My father was very earnest in his protest against my plan, and finally reasoned me out of it. I believed that fathers were almost always right, and I was unwilling to take the responsibility of disregarding his advice, even while he permitted me to do as I pleased. I had been idle long enough to desire to be again engaged in some active pursuit or some stirring recreation. I abandoned my plan; but circumstances afterwards left me no alternative but to adopt it again.

I immediately commenced making my preparations for the trip to Europe, and in three days I was ready to depart. I had called upon and bade adieu to all my friends in St. Louis, except Mr. Lamar, a merchant who had been very kind to me in the day of adversity. On the day before I intended to start, I went to his counting-room, and found him busy with a gentleman. I waited till he was disengaged, and picked up The Reveille to amuse myself for the time. Before I could become interested in the contents of the newspaper, the voice of the gentleman with whom the merchant was occupied attracted my attention. I looked at him a second time, and as he turned his head I recognized Mr. Ben Waterford.

I was conscious that this man was my enemy for life. I was rather startled, for I assure my sympathizing reader that I was not at all anxious to meet him. The last time I had seen him was on the bank of Lake Michigan, at the mouth of a creek where I had left him, having taken possession of his yacht, after a hard battle with him, in order to prevent him from running away with my fair cousin, Miss Marian Collingsby. I had entirely defeated his plans, as well as those of Mr. Whippleton, Mr. Collingsby's partner; and when the business affairs of the latter were examined, they involved those of the former. He was driven into bankruptcy, and did not again show his face in Chicago. Very likely, if I had not thwarted him, he would have married the daughter of Mr. Collingsby, and, perhaps, at the same time, have saved himself from financial ruin.

I read my newspaper, and hoped Mr. Ben Waterford would not see me. I was rather curious to know what business he had with Mr. Lamar. I could hear an occasional word, and I was soon satisfied that the parties were talking about lands. The Chicago gentleman was at his former business, evidently; for then he had been a speculator in lands. I could not understand how one as effectually cleaned out as he was represented to be could have any lands to sell, or any funds to buy them.

"How are you, Phil? How do you do?" said Mr. Lamar, as, for the first time, he happened to discover me.

"Don't let me disturb you, sir. I will wait," I replied.

"Ah, Phil! how do you do?" added Mr. Waterford; and I thought or imagined that there was a flush on his face, as though the meeting was no more agreeable to him than to me.

I shook hands with Mr. Lamar, but I had not the hypocrisy to do so with the Chicago swindler, though he made a motion in that direction. He was not glad to see me, though he smiled as sweetly as the rose in June.

"Take a seat, Phil," continued Mr. Lamar. "I will think of the matter, Mr. Waterford," he added, as the latter turned to leave the counting-room.

CHAPTER II.

IN WHICH PHIL STARTS FOR NEW YORK, AND IS STOPPED ON THE WAY.

"Do you know that gentleman, Phil?" asked Mr. Lamar, when Waterford had gone.

"Yes, sir; I know him, and he knows me as well as I know him," I replied, cheerfully.

"He has some land to sell in the vicinity of Chicago."

"He! He don't own a foot of land on the face of the earth."

"Perhaps he don't own it himself, but is authorized to sell it."

"That may be. Where is the land, sir?"

"In Bloomvale, I think. By the way, he is connected with the former partner of your uncle, Mr. Richard Collingsby."

"So much the worse for him."

"I am thinking of buying this land."

"Don't think of it any more, Mr. Lamar."

"But he offers to sell it to me for half its value, for he is going to leave the country—"

"For his country's good," I suggested.

"That may be; but he wants the money."

I inquired into the matter a little more closely, and found the land was that which had ruined Mr. Charles Whippleton, and which he had deeded to Mr. Collingsby in settlement for the deficiencies in his accounts. It was a fraud on the face of it, and I explained the matter to Mr. Lamar so far as I understood it; but I could not see myself in what manner Waterford expected to convey the property, since he had already deeded it to Whippleton. The two speculators had owned the land together, but Waterford had conveyed his share to Whippleton, who was to pay ten thousand dollars from his ill-gotten gains for the deed, when they ran away together. I had prevented them from running away together, and Mr. Whippleton from running away at all; consequently, the ten thousand dollars had never been paid, though the deed had been duly signed and recorded. The property had since been mortgaged to Mr. Collingsby, who held it at the present time.

It appeared that Waterford had given the deed, but had not received the payment. He was sore on the point, and claimed that the deed for his share of the land was null and void, and that he had a right to sell it again. He had borrowed the money to enable him to purchase it, and the debts thus contracted had caused his failure. But I do not propose to follow Waterford in his land speculations, and I need only say that he was engaged in an attempt to swindle my friend. My statement opened the eyes of Mr. Lamar, and he investigated the matter. Once more I was a stumbling-block in the path of Ben Waterford.

On the day the steamer in which I had engaged my passage to Pittsburg was to sail, I called upon Mr. Lamar again; for I was curious to know the result of the business. Waterford had been to see him again, and the negotiation had been summarily closed. I was thankful for the opportunity of saving one of my friends from loss; for Waterford was a very plausible man, and had grown reckless by misfortune. I had no doubt Mr. Whippleton, who was now in business in Cincinnati, was concerned in the affair.

I bade adieu to all my friends in St. Louis. Mrs. Greenough cried heartily when I took leave of her, and declared that she never expected to see me again, I was going away so many thousand miles. My father went with me to the steamer, and gave me much good advice, which I gratefully treasured up. I found my state-room, and having placed my trunk in it, I spent my last hour in St. Louis in talking with my father. I hoped to bring my mother there in a few months. With a hearty shake of the hand we parted, when the steamer backed out from the levee.

I went to my room then, for I wanted to be alone. I was going away on a long journey, and upon my mission seemed to hang all the joys of life. I prayed to God for strength to be true to the principles in which I had been so faithfully instructed, and that our little family might soon be reunited, after a separation of about sixteen years. I thought of the past, and recalled all the friends who had been kind to me. The Gracewoods were uppermost in my thoughts; for they were among the first who had loved me. To Mr. Gracewood I owed my education, and he had taken pains to give me high principles, upon which to found my life-structure. Ella Gracewood, whom I had saved from the Indians, was an angel in my thoughts. She was beautiful to look upon, though it was four years since I had seen her. She was seventeen now, and my imagination was active in picturing her as she had become during this long absence.

Ella Gracewood was something more than a dream to me; she was a reality. I had the pleasant satisfaction of knowing that she had not forgotten me; for I had received an occasional letter from her, in which she reviewed the stirring scenes of the past, and spoke hopefully of meeting me again at no distant period in the future. I took from my pocket a letter which had come to me from her father only a few days before, and which had given direction, in part, to my thoughts at the present time. The family had passed the winter in Rome, and intended to sail for home about the last of April. Mr. Gracewood had a friend who was in command of a ship which was to sail for New York at this time from Messina, and he had decided to come with him. The ship was the Bayard, Captain Allyn.

I expected to reach Nice by the middle of April, and after I had found my mother, I intended to go to Rome, where I should arrive before the Gracewoods departed for home. The prospect was very pleasant and very satisfactory. I pictured to myself the joy of meeting Ella in that far-off land, and of wandering with her among the glorious relics of the past, and the grand creations of the present. I was sorry to leave my father, but I was very happy in what the future seemed to have in store for me.

From these reflections I passed to more practical ones. I opened my trunk, and looked over its contents, in order to satisfy myself that I had forgotten nothing. I had with me all the letters which Ella had ever written to me, and I had read each of them at least a score of times, weighing and measuring every sentence, the better to assure myself that she had a sincere and true regard for me. I wondered whether she read my letters with the same degree of interest. I could hardly persuade myself that she did. I found myself troubled with a kind of vague suspicion that her regard was nothing more than simple gratitude because I had rescued her from the hands of the Indians. However, I could only hope that this sentiment had begotten a more satisfactory one in her heart.

From these lofty thoughts and aspirations my mind descended to those as material as earth itself—to the yellow dross for which men sell soul and body, of which I had an abundant supply in my trunk. I had fifteen hundred dollars in gold, with which I intended to purchase a letter of credit in New York, to defray my expenses in Europe. Being a young man of eighteen, I was not willing to rest my hopes upon drafts and inland bills of exchange, or anything which was a mere valueless piece of paper. I left nothing to contingencies, and determined to give no one an opportunity to dispute a signature, or to wonder how a boy of my age came by a draft for so large a sum. Gold is substantial, and does not entail any doubts. If the coin was genuine, there was no room for a peradventure or a dispute. In spite of the risk of its transportation, I felt safer with the yellow dross in my trunk than I should with a draft in my pocket.

I had fifteen hundred dollars in gold in a bag, deposited beneath my clothing. I counted it over, to see that it was all right. I had also the relics of my childhood in my trunk, for I expected to see my mother, and I wanted the evidence to convince her that I was what I claimed to be, if the sight of my face did not convince her. Besides my gold, I had about a hundred dollars in cash in my pocket, to pay my expenses before I sailed from New York. I felt that I was provided with everything which could be required to accomplish my great mission in Europe.

Fortunately I had a state-room all to myself, so that I had no concern about the treasure in my trunk. I remained in my room the greater part of the time; for from the open door I could see the scenery on the banks of the river. I assured myself every day that my valuables were safe, and I believe I read Ella's letters every time I opened the trunk. The steamer went along very pleasantly, and in due time arrived at Cincinnati. As she was to remain here several hours, I took a walk through some of the principal streets, and saw the notables of the city. When I went on board again, I bought a newspaper. The first thing that attracted my attention in the news columns was the announcement of a heavy forgery in the name of Lamar & Co. Two banks where the firm did their business had each paid a check, one of six and the other of four thousand dollars. No clew to the forger had been obtained. This was all the information the paper contained in regard to the matter; but as the banks, and not my friend Mr. Lamar, would be the losers, I did not think any more of the subject.

Before the boat started, I assured myself that my trunk had not been robbed in my absence. The bag was safe. At Cincinnati many of the passengers from St. Louis had left the boat, and many new faces appeared. I looked around to see if I knew any one on board. I did not find any one, though, as I walked along the gallery near my room, I saw a gentleman who had a familiar look; but I did not obtain a fair glance at his face. I thought it was Mr. Ben Waterford; but he had no beard, while my Chicago friend had worn a pair of heavy whiskers. I kept a sharp lookout for this individual during the rest of the day, but, strange as it may seem, I did not see him again.

Mr. Ben Waterford had no reason for avoiding me, and if he had he was too brazen to do anything of the kind. I concluded that I had been mistaken; for I could not find him at the table, in the cabin, or on the boiler deck. When I had seen the gentleman whom I supposed to be Mr. Ben Waterford, he was on the point of entering a state-room adjoining my own. I went to the clerk, and found against the number of the room the name of "A. McGregor;" and he was the only person in the room. I heard the creak of his berth when he got into it that night, and I heard his footsteps in the morning. In the course of the next day I inquired about Mr. A. McGregor, but no one knew him.

I watched the door of the room, but no one came out or went in. I only wanted to know whether Mr. A. McGregor was Mr. Ben Waterford with his whiskers shaved off; but that gentleman failed to gratify my reasonable curiosity, though I worked myself up to a very high pitch of excitement over the subject. I was determined to see his face again, if possible, and very likely I might have succeeded under ordinary circumstances; but a startling catastrophe intervened to disappoint me.

On the day after we left Cincinnati, towards evening, I was sitting on the gallery, when, without any warning whatever, I heard a tremendous crash, and felt the steamer breaking in pieces beneath me. I had seen a boat coming down the river a moment before, and I quickly concluded that the two steamers had run into each other.

I realized that the steamer was settling under me. Ladies were shrieking, and even some gentlemen were doing the same thing. I rushed into my state-room, intent upon saving my gold and my relics. I had taken out the key of my trunk, when I heard the door of the adjoining room open. I glanced towards the gallery, and saw Mr. A. McGregor flash past the door. He looked like Mr. Ben Waterford; but I was not confident it was he. Before I could use my key, the disabled steamer rolled over on one side, and the water rose into the gallery, and even entered my state-room.

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH PHIL GOES EAST, AND MEETS CAPTAIN FARRADAY.

By the time I was ready to open my trunk, the steamer had settled upon the bottom of the river, which was not very deep at this point. Finding the boat was going down no farther, I dragged my trunk up into the cabin. I do not believe in making a fuss when there is no occasion for a fuss. My property was safe, and so far as I was able to judge, my fellow-passengers were equally fortunate. A few of the ladies insisted upon screaming, even after the danger was past; but it is their prerogative to scream, and no one had a right to object.

I did not object, and I believe everybody else was equally reasonable. I heard a burly gentleman swearing at the pilot for the collision in broad daylight, without a fog or even a mist to excuse him. I do not know whose fault it was, and not being an accident commissioner, I did not investigate the circumstances attending the collision. I only know that no lives were lost, though a great deal of heavy freight on the main deck and in the hold was badly damaged. The crew, and a few of the passengers who happened to be below, were subjected to a cold bath; but I have not heard that any one took cold on account of it.

After a few minutes, some of the gentlemen seemed to consider the calamity a rather pleasant variation of the monotony of the trip, and not a few of the ladies to regard themselves as the heroines of a disaster. The floor of the saloon was still dry and comfortable, though it had an inclination of about thirty degrees from its proper horizontal position, and therefore was not comfortable for ladies to walk upon.

The steamer which had caused the mischief had not been disabled. She had run her solid bow into the quarter of the other, and stove in the side of the hull. She ran alongside the wreck, and the passengers were able to step on board of her without wetting a foot, or even crossing a plank. I took my trunk on my shoulder, and effected a safe retreat, inspired by the same wisdom which induces all rats to desert a sinking ship, and especially one already sunk. Myself, my trunk, and my treasure were safe. I was happy in the result, and doubly so because all my fellow-passengers were equally fortunate. I am sure, if a single life had been sacrificed, I should not have been happy. As it was, I was disposed to be jolly.

I put my trunk in a safe place in the cabin of the steamer which had made the mischief, and turned my attention to the people and the events around me. I found a lone woman, who insisted upon being very much distressed, when there was not the least occasion for any such display of feminine weakness. She had saved herself, but had not saved her baggage, which the deck hands were transferring from the sunken boat with all possible expedition. The lady was sure her trunk would go to the bottom; but when she had told me the number of her room, I conveyed it to the cabin, and placed it above my own. The lady was happy then, and twenty-five per cent. was added to my own felicity by her present peace of mind. She sat down upon her trunk, and did not seem disposed to abandon it. As in watching her own she could not well help watching mine, which was beneath it, and finding it so well guarded, I left the place, and went on the hurricane-deck to take a survey of the lost craft.

In this elevated locality a violent discussion between the two captains and the two pilots of the steamers was in progress. The representatives of each boat blamed those of the other. I listened with interest, but not with edification, for I could not ascertain from anything that was said which of the two was the more to blame. Each pilot had mistaken the intention of the other, and probably both had become rather reckless from long experience. I had often noticed on the Mississippi and the Ohio, as well as in other places, that pilots are disposed to run their boats as close as possible to other boats, when there is not the least necessity for doing so. There is a kind of excitement in going as near as possible without hitting. Men and boys, in driving horses, are apt to be governed by the same principle, and laugh at the timid reinsman who gives a wide berth to the vehicle he encounters.

I have had considerable experience now, and I have come to the conclusion that it is always best to keep on the safe side. It is folly to incur useless risks; and as a venerable young man of twenty-eight, I would rather be laughed at for going a good way to avoid even a possible peril than be applauded for making "a close shave." It is criminal vanity to run into danger for the sake of the excitement of such a situation, and people who do it are not really courageous. On the contrary, it is cowardly in the moral sense, for the person is not brave enough to face a smile or a word of ridicule.

One or both of these pilots had been trying to make "a close shave," where the river was broad enough for them to keep their boats a quarter of a mile apart. If the loss of the boat and the damage to the freight had fallen upon them alone, it would have served them right; but I doubt whether either of them even lost his situation. One boat was smashed and sunk, the other was not much injured. It was a pity that the loss could not have been equally divided between the two; but as it could not be so, of course the captain who had lost his boat was much the more uncomfortable of the two.

I listened to the profitless discussion till I was tired of it, and examined the position of the sunken boat. I should have been very glad to take the job of raising her, if I had not had a mission before me. Leaving the excited little group on the hurricane-deck, I went down into the saloon again. The old lady was still seated on her trunk and mine, and I continued my walk around the steamer. I wanted to see Mr. A. McGregor again; indeed, I was in search of him, for I had made up my mind that he was Mr. Ben Waterford, though I could not see why he was so particular to keep out of my way. Of course I was not sure that the gentleman was my Chicago acquaintance. The lack of a beard on the face of Mr. A. McGregor was an argument against the truth of the supposition; but the form, and as near as I could judge from a single glance, the features, were those of Mr. Waterford.

I could not find him. The passengers were continually moving about the galleries and saloons, and if he was trying to avoid me, he could easily do so. But why should Mr. Ben Waterford wish to avoid me? He did not love me, I knew. I could even understand why he should hate me. If he had met me face to face, abused me and worried me, kicked me, tripped me up in the dark, or pushed me into the river, I might have explained his conduct. I had seen him in St. Louis, and he had greeted me very pleasantly. Now he shunned me, if I was not mistaken in the person. My best efforts failed to afford me a fair view of his face. I had become quite interested, not to say excited, about the matter, and I was determined, if possible, to solve the mystery of Mr. A. McGregor.

As soon as the steamer alongside had taken on board all the passengers, and all the baggage that was above water, she started for Marietta. Those who wished to land at this town, and wait for another steamer, did so; but most of them continued in the boat to Parkersburg, where they took the train immediately on their arrival for Baltimore. As this latter arrangement would enable me to see Baltimore, I concluded to go with the majority, for I was afraid I might be detained three or four days on the river. We arrived just in time to take a night train, and I received a check for my trunk. As soon as the cars were in motion, I passed through all of them in search of Mr. A. McGregor. If he was on the train, I should have a chance to see him where he could not dodge me, and if he proved to be my old yachting friend, I was determined to speak to him, and ascertain where he was going.

Mr. A. McGregor was not on the train. I had missed him somewhere, for in my anxiety for my baggage I had not thought of him till I took my place in the car. He had either stopped at Marietta, or remained in Parkersburg. But after all, I was actuated only by curiosity. I had no special interest either in Mr. A. McGregor or Mr. Ben Waterford. Whoever he was, if I had not imagined that he wished to avoid me, I should not have bothered my head about him. However, we had parted company now, and I was willing to drop the matter, though I was no wiser than at first.

I arrived at Baltimore the next day, astonished and delighted at the beautiful scenery of the Potomac, along whose banks the train passed. My trunk was delivered to me, and I went to a small hotel, where the expense for a day would not ruin me. I was in a strange city, but one of which I had heard a great deal, and I was anxious to see the lions at once. I opened my trunk, and having satisfied myself that my bag of gold was safe, I did not stop to open it, but hastened up Baltimore Street, intent upon using my limited time in the city to the best advantage.

The next day I went to Philadelphia, remaining there a day, and left for New York, only sorry that my great mission would not allow me to remain longer. I was excited all the time by the wonders that were continually presented to me. I was not "green" now, but I was interested in new objects and new scenes, both in the cities and on the routes between them.

On the ferry-boat from Amboy I met a plain-looking man, and a question which I asked him, in regard to a vessel in the bay, opened the way to a longer conversation. He was dressed in blue clothes, and by the manner in which he spoke of the vessel, I concluded that he was a sailor. He criticised rigging and hull with so many technicalities that I was bewildered by his speech. He answered my questions with much good-nature; and when I found he was going to the Western Hotel, I decided to go there with him. Rooms adjoining each other were assigned to us, and we went down to dinner together. I saw by the register that his name was Farraday, and the hotel clerk called him captain. When he ascertained that I was a stranger in the city, he seemed to take an interest in me, and very kindly told me some things worth knowing.

"Do you remain long in New York, Captain Farraday?" I asked, pleased with my new acquaintance, though his breath smelled rather strong of whiskey, which was the only thing I disliked about him.

"No; I mean to be off to-morrow. I expect my mate to-day, and we are all ready to sail," he replied. "I am going on board this afternoon. Perhaps you would like to see my vessel."

"Very much indeed, sir."

"We will go down after dinner."

I wanted to go on board of a sea-going vessel, and I was delighted with the opportunity.

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH PHIL VISITS THE BARK MICHIGAN, AND LOOKS AFTER HIS FINANCES.

"I believe you said you came from the west," said Captain Farraday; and we walked down to the North River, where his vessel lay.

"Yes, sir; I was born in St. Louis, but have lived a great portion of my life on the Upper Missouri."

"I don't know that I have heard your name yet."

"Philip Farringford, sir."

"Do you ever take anything, Mr. Farringford?"

"Take anything?" I replied, puzzled by the question.

"Anything to drink."

"No, sir; I never drink anything stronger than tea and coffee."

"That's the safest plan; but we old sailors can't get along without a little whiskey. Won't you have a drop?"

"No, I thank you. I never drank a drop in my life, and I don't think I shall begin now."

"Will you excuse me a moment, then?" he added, halting before a drinking-shop.

"Certainly, Captain Farraday," I answered; but I confess that I excused him against my own will and wish.

I stood on the sidewalk while he entered the shop and imbibed his dram.

"I feel better," said he, when he returned. "My digestive rigging don't work well without a little slush."

"I have heard that much grease is bad for the digestion."

"Well, whiskey isn't. If you should go to sea for two or three years, you would find it necessary to splice the main brace, especially in heavy weather, when you are wet and cold."

"I should try to keep the main brace in such condition that it would not need splicing," I replied, laughing, for I considered it necessary to be true to my temperance principles.

"Cold water is a good thing; but when you have so much of it lying loose around you on board ship, you need a little of something warm. That's my experience, young man; but I don't advise any one to drink liquor. It's a good servant, but a bad master."

"It is certainly a bad master," I replied, willing to accept only a part of the proposition.

"Yes; and a good servant to those who know how to manage it. Are you much acquainted out west, Mr. Farringford?" he asked, changing the subject, to my great satisfaction.

"I am pretty well acquainted in Chicago and St. Louis."

"Not in Michigan?"

"Not much, sir."

"Do you happen to know the Ashborns, of Detroit?"

"No, sir; never even heard of them."

"There are two of them out there now; but the third of them came back to New York, and owns two thirds of the bark I sail in. I own the other third. John Ashborn calls himself a Michigan man because the family is out there, and named the bark after the state."

"The Michigan?"

"Yes; and she's a good vessel."

"Where do you go?"

"We are bound to Palermo."

"Palermo!" I exclaimed. "I wish I was going there with you."

"I wish you were. We are to have three or four passengers," added the captain. "I rather like you, from what I have seen of you."

"But I should like to go as a sailor."

"A sailor! You, with your good clothes?"

"I could change them. I know all about a boat, and I should like to learn all about a ship."

"Well, if you want to go, I will ship you. I want two or three more hands."

"I am sorry I can't go. I must be in Nice by the twentieth of next month."

"There are steamers every few days from Palermo and Messina to Marseilles, and that's only a short run from Nice."

"I want to be a sailor; but I shall not be able to ship at present."

"My mate is a western man, too," added the captain, as we stepped on board his vessel—the bark Michigan. "He is a nephew, a cousin, or something of that sort, of Mr. Ashborn. They say he is a good sailor, and has made two voyages as second mate, and one as chief mate. He's smart, and went into business out west; but he failed, and now wants to go to sea again," continued Captain Farraday, as he led the way into the cabin.

I looked through the main cabin, examined the state-rooms, and then went on deck. The master answered all my questions with abundant good-nature. Indeed, he had taken another dram in the cabin, and he appeared to be growing more cheerful every moment. I had seen a square-rigged vessel before, and was tolerably familiar with the names of the spars, sails, and rigging, and I astonished the old salt by calling things by their right names. I told him I could sail a boat, and I thought a few weeks would make a salt sailor of me.

"Well, Mr. Farringford, if you want to ship, you can't find a better vessel than the Michigan," said Captain Farraday. "I have had college-larnt men before the mast with me, and though I expect every man to do his duty, we make the hands as comfortable as possible."

"I have no doubt of it, sir. You don't seem at all like the hard and cruel shipmasters we read of in the newspapers."

"Not a bit like 'em. I'm human myself, and I know that sailors are human, too. They can't help it; and I always try to use 'em well, when they will let me. I haven't seen my new mate yet; but they say he is a gentleman and a scholar, besides knowing a buntline from a broomstick."

I had no doubt that the new mate was a very wonderful man, and I was only sorry that the circumstances would not permit me to enjoy his kind and gentlemanly treatment on the passage to Palermo.

"Mr. Ashborn says his nephew is really a brilliant man, and I suppose, if I was only out of the way, he would have the command of the bark," the captain proceeded. "Well, I'm fifty now, and I don't mean to go to sea all the days of my life. I've been knocked about in all sorts of vessels ever since I was a boy. I didn't crawl in at the cabin window; I went through the hawse-hole; and I can show any man how to knot, and splice, and set up rigging. But I've had about enough of it. I've got a little farm down in Jersey, and when I've paid off the mortgage on it, I shall quit going to sea. It's all well enough for a young man; but when one gets to be fifty, he wants to take it a little easier."

Captain Farraday showed me the quarters of the crew, in a house on deck, instead of the forecastle, where the hands are generally lodged. It was rather dirty, greasy, and tarry; but I was satisfied that I could be comfortable there. It was even better than the log cabin where I had spent my earlier years; and neither the smell nor the looks would have deterred me from going to sea in the Michigan, if I had not felt obliged to follow the instructions of my father.

I liked the bark very much. Her captain pleased me, and I had no doubt I should be captivated by the graces and accomplishments of the new mate. I was sorry I could not go in her. Captain Farraday took another drink before I left the vessel, and I was glad then that his duties required his presence on board, for he told me that, in the absence of the mate, he was obliged to attend to the details of the bark himself. I walked up to Broadway, and examined the wonders of the city on my way. I wanted to find the office of the steamers for Europe, and a handbill gave me the necessary information. It was now Saturday, and one of them would sail on the following Wednesday. I spoke for a berth in the second cabin, which I thought would be good enough for me, after having seen the forecastle of the Michigan.

I then visited a banker's, and ascertained on what terms I could obtain a letter of credit. I did not care to keep my gold any longer than was necessary, and I hastened back to the hotel to obtain it, rather than leave it in my trunk till Monday. When a man's conscience is all right, money is a great blessing to him, and may make him very happy, if he knows how to use it; but when a man's conscience is not all right, neither money nor anything else can make him happy. My bag of half eagles was a great luxury to me. I could even spend a year in Europe without troubling myself about my finances. There is something in this consciousness that future wants are provided for, which affords a very great satisfaction; and as I walked back to the hotel, I was in the full enjoyment of this happy state of mind. I could look into the shop windows without wanting anything I saw, unless I needed it; but the lack of means suggests a thousand things which one never wants when he has the ability to buy them.

I reached the hotel, and went up stairs to my room. My trunk was on the chair where the porter had placed it; and every time I saw it safe, it afforded me a new sensation of enjoyment. I experienced it more fully on this occasion, for in half an hour more I should be relieved of all responsibility in regard to it. I could have all the benefit of it, without being burdened with the care of it. I could cross the ocean, and in whatever city I happened to be, I could step into the banker's and provide myself with funds as long as the fountain now in my possession should hold out.

I opened my trunk. It was a very nice trunk, which my father had furnished for me, expressly for travelling in foreign lands. It was made of sole leather, and strong enough to resist all reasonable assaults of the baggage smashers, though of course I could not have entire confidence in it, when pitted against the violence of those worthies. I was rather proud of my trunk, for I have always thought that a nice-looking, substantial one adds very much to the respectability of the traveller. I have imagined that the landlord bows a shade lower to the owner of well-ordered baggage, and that gentlemanly hotel clerks pause before they insult the proprietor of such goods. I considered my trunk, therefore, as a good investment for one about to cross the ocean, and wander in foreign lands. I had heard a western hotel-keeper speak very contemptuously of those people who travel with hair trunks, and I was very happy in not being counted among the number.

I opened my trunk, and found my clothes just as I had left them the last time I examined my treasure, or rather the last time I had looked at the bag which contained it, for I had not counted the gold since I left the steamer on the Ohio. I took out the various articles at the top of the trunk, and soon reached the bag. It lay in the corner, distended just enough to hold the fifteen hundred dollars. It was a pleasant sight to look upon, and I could not help congratulating myself upon the fact that I had brought so large a sum in safety from St. Louis to New York. Perhaps it was not a great feat; but I could not help feeling that it was just a little "smart," for specie is always a dangerous commodity to transport.

The bag lay in the corner just as it had when I glanced at it in Baltimore and in Philadelphia. As the sight of the distended bag had satisfied me then, so it would have satisfied me now, if I had not intended to dispose of its contents. I took hold of the bag, and lifted it up. It was very light compared with what it ought to have been, and with what it had been when I had last raised it.

In a word, my gold was not there.

My Gold was not there.

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH PHIL MORALIZES OVER HIS LOSS, AND HEARS FROM ST. LOUIS.

The bag which had contained my gold was distended as though the treasure were still there; but it was light, and I was satisfied that it contained nothing more substantial than paper. I need not say that a feeling akin to horror chilled the very blood in my veins, for without this money it seemed to me that all my plans would be defeated. I could not travel in Europe without it. I could not even purchase the steamer ticket for which I had spoken.

Grief, despair, and even shame, overwhelmed me, and I dropped into my chair utterly disconsolate for the moment. I held the bag in my hand, and felt that the solid, substantial hopes with which I had cheered and gladdened my soul had suddenly changed into airy phantoms. My gold had become waste paper. If I ever felt like using wicked language, it was then; but I thank God I did not profane his name, and pollute my own lips by any uttered word of irreverence. But I did feel as though God had forgotten and deserted me; as though he had cruelly and unreasonably mocked my hopes. Yet these thoughts were but the momentary spasm of a disappointed soul, and I trembled when I realized that such wickedness was in my heart.

God had given me all that I was and all that I had. What I had lost was not the half even of my worldly wealth, and it was impious to repine, though but for an instant. When I weighed this handful of gold against all my other blessings, against my Christian father, who prayed for me morning and night, and against the good I had been permitted to do for myself and others, the treasure was but a trifle. If it had cost me two years to save it, I was thankful that it was not the only saving of that precious period.

I rebuked myself severely for the wicked thoughts which had been engendered by my misfortune, and tried to take a more reasonable view of the loss I had sustained. I thanked God for all his mercies, and asked for strength to sustain me in this new trial. Having conquered the rebellious thoughts which the loss occasioned, I opened the bag, and attempted to fathom the mystery of its emptiness. There was nothing in it but an old newspaper rolled up into a ball. That was the only fact I had to work with. The bag had contained fifteen hundred dollars in ten and twenty dollar gold pieces when I left St. Louis; and the money was all right when I counted it on board of the steamer.

It was evident, therefore, that I had been robbed after the boat entered the Ohio River; but whether at Cincinnati, Parkersburg, Baltimore, Philadelphia, or New York, I had no idea whatever. I threw the bag back into the trunk. My father had insisted that the safest way for me to convey my money to New York was in the form of a draft; but I was afraid that, being a minor, the banker would refuse to pay me, or that something else might occur to make me trouble. I could not help thinking again that fathers are almost always right. At any rate I was wrong, and too late I regretted that I had persisted in my own way. I had lost my money by it, though my father would have been just as correct in his position if I had not lost it.

While I was thinking of the disagreeable subject, I unrolled the ball into which the newspaper had been formed. One of the first things that attracted my attention as I did so, was the announcement of the "Heavy Forgery in St. Louis." One of the corners of the paper was lapped over in printing it, and this circumstance enabled me to identify it as the one I had purchased in Cincinnati, and read after I came on board of the steamer. One more fact was added to my knowledge of the robbery. My trunk had been rifled after I left Cincinnati.

This fact did not help me much; but it suggested an examination of the lock on my trunk. I could see the marks of some sharp instrument in the brass around the key-hole, and I remembered that I had had some difficulty in opening the trunk just before the collision on the Ohio. If the robber had left my trunk unlocked, I had not discovered the fact. The bolt had evidently been moved back by a bent file, or something of that kind. I cudgelled my brains severely to recall all the circumstances of my last day on board of the steamer. I had opened my trunk after dinner, and read all the letters of Ella Gracewood, not only because I had nothing else to do, but because it was the pleasantest occupation in the world to me. I was persuaded that my bag had been emptied that afternoon, probably while I was walking on the hurricane-deck, where I spent an hour just before the collision in obtaining my daily exercise, walking back and forth.

I could not help connecting the robbery with "Mr. A. McGregor;" but it was too late now to do anything. The money had gone, and so had Mr. A. McGregor. I could not find him if I tried. It was better for me to regard the treasure as lost, than to entertain the absurd proposition of finding it. What should I do? It was impossible to go to Europe without money, and a liberal supply of it, too. I still had two thousand dollars in the savings bank in St. Louis; but I regarded this as my capital for the future, when I should have an opportunity of going into business. I did not like to draw it, and I did not like the delay which it would require to obtain it. If I wrote to my father immediately, it would require a week to receive an answer from him. Then he would be obliged to give notice to the savings bank, and wait for regular days for drawing out money.

I must certainly wait a week, and perhaps a fortnight, before I could receive funds from St. Louis. I might miss my mother at Nice, and I was tolerably certain to miss the Gracewoods at Messina. I was vexed at the thought of this delay, and I am not sure but the fear of not seeing the Gracewoods fretted me more than the contingency of not meeting my mother, for the latter was to remain in Europe another summer, and I could follow her wherever she went.

Worse, if possible, than all this, I was ashamed of myself, because I had permitted myself to be robbed. It is not for me to say whether or not I am conceited; but I certainly had a great deal of pride of character. A mistake was not half so bad as a crime, in my estimation; but it was still very bad. I did not wish to be regarded, even by my father, whose judgment would be very lenient, as a young man who had not the ability to take care of himself. I did not like to confess that in neglecting the advice of my father, and following the behests of my own head, I had come to grief. Without doubt I was wrong; but I had been taught to depend solely upon myself, and to rely upon no arm but that of God. A blunder, therefore, was more to me than it would have been under other circumstances. While I was thinking of the matter, there was a knock at my door. It was Captain Farraday, and I admitted him.

"Well, Mr. Farringford, you seem to be busy," said he, glancing at my clothing laid upon the bed and chairs, as I had taken it from my trunk.

"Not very busy, sir, except in my head," I replied.

"Young men's heads are always busy," he added, with a jolly laugh, for he was still under the influence of the liquor he had drank, though he was not much intoxicated.

"I am full of misfortunes, mishaps, and catastrophes," I answered.

"You!"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't mean it! If I were a young fellow like you, I should be as jolly as a lark always and everywhere. In fact, I am now."

But I could not help feeling that his whiskey was the inspiration of his merriment, and that he must have times when the reaction bore severely upon him.

"I have met with a heavy loss," I continued.

"Sorry for that; what is it?"

"I had a bag containing fifteen hundred dollars in gold in my trunk. It is gone now."

"Gone!" exclaimed he.

"The bag is empty."

"I am sorry for it; but I think you almost deserve to lose it for leaving it in your trunk."

"I acknowledge that I was imprudent; but I thought it was safe there, because no one knew that I had it."

I told him enough of my story to enable him to understand my situation.

"It's a hard case; but you know it's no use to cry for spilt milk; only don't spill any more."

"But all my plans are defeated. I can't go to Europe without money."

"That's true; a man wants money in Europe, if he don't in America. Where did you say your mother was?"

"At Nice."

"Just so; you can go in my vessel to Palermo, and then to Genoa and Nice by the steamers. If you want to learn how to knot and splice, reef and steer, you shall go before the mast and work your passage. It will do you good, besides what you learn."

"But I shall have no money when I get to Nice," I suggested.

"What of that? You say your mother belongs to a rich family, and of course she has money enough."

This idea struck me very favorably. I had about sixty dollars in my pocket, which would more than pay my expenses from Palermo to Messina, where Mr. Gracewood would lend me a further sum. If I missed them, I could even go to Nice, where my mother would be glad to supply all my wants. I liked the plan, but I was not quite prepared to decide the matter. The Michigan would sail the next day, and I could at least think of it over night.

Captain Farraday pressed the matter upon me, and declared it was a great pity that a good sailor should be spoiled to make an indifferent merchant or mechanic. I promised to give him an answer the next morning; and the prospect of being a sailor, even for the brief period of three or four weeks, seemed to be some compensation for the loss of my money. I was not disposed to be a fatalist; but it passed through my mind once, that, as I was destined to be a sailor, I had lost my money so that I might not miss my destiny.

I went down to supper with Captain Farraday, who still plied his favorite topic, and gave me a rose-colored view of "a life on the ocean wave." He stopped at the bar on the way to the dining-room, and he was not agreeable company after he had taken one more dram. After supper, I left him, and went to the post office, for I had been expecting a letter from my father ever since I arrived in the city.

I found one this time. It was full of good advice and instructions, forgotten before I left St. Louis. He gave me fuller particulars than I had obtained from the newspaper in regard to the forgery of Mr. Lamar's name. I learned with surprise that Mr. Ben Waterford was now strongly suspected of the crime, and his visits to Mr. Lamar, ostensibly to sell land, were really to enable him to see the check book of the firm. The evidence was not conclusive, but it was tolerably strong.

CHAPTER VI.

IN WHICH PHIL SIGNS THE SHIPPING PAPERS AND RECOGNIZES THE NEW MATE.

I had no difficulty in believing that Mr. Ben Waterford was a rascal and a swindler, but it was hard to realize that one who had occupied so respectable a position in Chicago had sunk so low as to commit the crimes of forgery and robbery. With my father's letter before me, I was satisfied that Mr. A. McGregor was no other than Mr. Ben Waterford. After he had committed forgery in St. Louis, he had abundant reason for wishing to remain unseen and unknown.

He had obtained the money on the forged checks, crossed the country to Cincinnati, and joined the steamer in which I had taken passage. It was possible, and even probable, that he knew I had a considerable sum of money with me, and that he had come on board for the purpose of obtaining it, as much for revenge on account of the check I had put upon his operations as for the sake of the money. My friends in St. Louis all knew that I was going to Europe, and I had procured my gold at a broker's. His iniquity seemed to be prosperous at the present time, for so far as I had learned, he had yet escaped detection.

My desire to be a sailor, even for a few weeks, got the better of other considerations, and before the next morning I had about decided to take passage in the Michigan, or rather to ship as one of the crew for the outward voyage to Palermo. I met the captain at breakfast, and he was quite sober then. I supposed that he kept sober on board ship, for the discharge of his responsible duties required a clear head, though the wonderful mate was competent to handle the vessel. He was just as persistent sober as he had been drunk, that I should embark in the Michigan, and I was weak enough to believe that I had made a strong friend in him. I might never again have such an opportunity to go to sea, with the master interested in me, and desirous of serving me.

I am satisfied that, if I had not met Captain Farraday, I should have asked my father to send me the money needed for my trip, and taken the steamer, as I had intended. Such a powerful friend in the cabin would necessarily afford me a very comfortable berth in the forecastle. He was the superior even of the wonderful mate; and, if the latter did not take a fancy to me, as the friend of the captain I should not be likely to suffer any great hardships. I might even expect an occasional invitation to dine in the cabin, and certainly, if I was not comfortably situated on board, I should have the courage to inform my excellent friend of the fact, and he would set me right at once.

I wrote a long letter to my father, detailing the loss of my money, and the reasons why I had changed my plans. I thought that the circumstances justified the change; but my strongest reason was, that Captain Farraday was my friend, and I should never have so favorable an opportunity again to learn seamanship. After I had written the letter, I read it over, and I concluded that my argument was strong enough to convince my father. Having mailed this letter, I looked about me for the captain. I found him at dinner, rather boosy again, but very kind, considerate, and friendly.

"Well, my hearty, are you ready yet for a life on the ocean wave?" said he.

"I have about concluded to go with you," I replied.

"Have you? Well, you have about concluded to do the biggest thing you ever did in your life."

"I have written to my father that I should go in the Michigan."

"Good, my hearty! You are on the high road to fortune now," added the captain, rubbing his hands.

"I don't expect to make my fortune. All I desire is to work my passage," I replied, rather amused at his enthusiasm.

"Fortunes have been made by a single voyage. I mean this shall be my last cruise."

"I hope you will make your fortune, sir."

"I expect to do it on this trip. Then I shall pay off the mortgage on my farm, and keep quiet for the rest of my life."

"I hope you will. But what time do you sail, sir?"

"Some time this afternoon. The new mate hasn't come yet; but he's in the city, for I've heard from him. He's the owner's nephew, you see, and I can't drive him up, as I should another man. We will go on board about three o'clock."

After dinner I went up to my room, and put on the suit of old clothes which I had brought with me to wear on board of the steamer. It was not a salt rig, but I have since learned that it is not the tarpaulin and the seaman's trousers that make the sailor. I procured a carriage to convey my trunk to the wharf, and Captain Farraday rode with me. We called a shore boat, and were put on board of the bark, which had hauled off into the stream. She lay with her anchor hove short, and her topsails loosed, ready to get under way the moment the order was given.

The crew had been put on board by a shipping agent, who remained by the vessel, to see that none of them deserted. I should say that the majority of them were beastly drunk, while all of them were under the influence of liquor. Without exception they were the hardest looking set of men I had ever seen collected together. I listened for a moment to the wild curses that rang through the air, and my heart was sick. The idea of being for three weeks in the same vessel with such a set of wretches was intolerable. They were of all nations, and the lowest and vilest that the nations could contribute.

The sight of them was a terrible shock to me, and my romantic notions about a "life on the ocean wave," so vividly set forth by my friend Captain Farraday, were mocked by the stern reality. I had taken my elegant trunk on board; if it had only been in the boat, I should have returned to the shore, without stopping to say good by to the captain. I fled from the forecastle to escape the ringing oaths and the drunken orgies of the crew. How vividly I recalled all that my father had told me about the character of the sailor of the present day! All that he had said was more than realized in the actions and appearance of the crew of the Michigan; but, in justice to the sailor, I ought to add in the beginning, that they were not a fair specimen of the class of men who sail our ships. I walked aft filled with loathing and disgust. The captain was giving some directions to the second mate, who was performing mate's duty in the absence of that worthy. Even the second mate was drunk; and, between him and the captain, it was difficult to tell which was the more sober.

"Well, Farringford, did you find a place for your trunk in the forecastle?" said the captain, as he saw me.

"No, sir; I did not look for a place."

"What's the matter, my hearty? You look down in the mouth," he added, thus assuring me that the feeling in my heart had found expression in my face.

"I don't exactly like the looks of things," I replied, trying to smile.

"What's the trouble?"

"I would like to go on shore again," I added, candidly.

"On shore again! I didn't take you for a chicken."

"I don't think I am a chicken, but I don't like the idea of being with those fellows forward."

"What's the matter with them?"

"They are all drunk."

"Drunk! What of it? So am I. That is, I'm reasonably drunk. I know what I'm about, and so do they."

"I don't think many of them do know what they are about. I never heard such awful profanity before in my life."

"O, well, my lad, you will soon get used to that," laughed Captain Farraday.

"Not if I can help it, sir."

"But you are not going to back out now, Farringford?"

"I don't like to back out, but I can't stand it to live in the same forecastle with such miserable wretches as those men."

"Be reasonable, Farringford. Don't you see they are drunk?"

"Yes, sir; and I consider that a serious objection to them; for men in their sober senses would not use such horrible curses as those men use."

"That's it, exactly, Farringford. It's only because they are drunk. When they are sober they will be as pious as parsons."

"If you have no objection, I think I will go on shore again."

"Of course you can go on shore if you like, but you will make a blunder if you do, Farringford. I advise you as a friend. Do you expect the crew will be drunk all the time?"

"I don't know anything about it; but I don't like the looks of them."

"These men have just come on board. Sailors always go on a spree before they go on a voyage. They don't have any liquor at sea. Every man's kit is searched to see that he brings none with him. Before eight bells, to-night, they will all be as sober as judges, and you won't see one of them drunk again till we get to the coast of—to Palermo; and not then, unless we give them a day on shore."

"That alters the case," I replied, perceiving the force of his argument.

"That's one of the best crews that ever was shipped out of New York. You can't tell what they are when they are drunk. Why, one third of them are church members."

If the captain had not been tipsy himself, I should have believed he intended to deceive me; but he had been very kind to me, and I charged his exaggerated remarks to the whiskey he had drank. If the crew were only sober, and ceased swearing, I was confident I could get along three weeks with them. I had read in my Sunday school library books of ships which were sailed without rum or profanity, and perhaps I had taken my ideal from too high a pitch. If these men were not fed upon liquor I did not believe they could be as they were now.

"I can't go into the forecastle with them while they are in their present state," I added.

"O, well, we will make that all right. I will give you a place in the cabin till to-morrow. By that time you will find the crew are like so many lambs. Bring your trunk this way."

I obeyed, though I was not quite satisfied. I carried my trunk below, and put it into the steerage, which was appropriated to the use of the cabin steward. The captain told me I might sleep that night anywhere I could find a place. I was so infatuated with the desire to go to sea as a sailor, that I flattered myself the crew would appear better when sober, and I tried to persuade myself that the adventure would come out right in the end.

"Here, Farringford, sign the papers," said the captain, pointing to a document on the cabin table.

"But I don't ship as a regular seaman," I replied.

"It's only a form," he added. "You shall leave when you please, but the law requires that every seaman shall sign the papers."

I did so as a matter of form, and went on deck. The new mate was coming alongside. He was in a boat with two other men; and, as he was practically to be my master during the voyage, I regarded him with deep interest. I did not see his face at first, but as he rose from his seat I recognized him.

The new mate was Mr. Ben Waterford, from the west!

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH PHIL ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE FROM THE BARK MICHIGAN.

As soon as I saw the face of Mr. Ben Waterford, I retreated to the cabin, and then to the steerage, where my trunk had been deposited. I felt as though I had seen the evil one, and he had laid his hand upon me. I was disgusted and disheartened. I had signed the shipping articles, and it was not easy to escape. Captain Farraday wanted me, or he would not have taken so much pains to induce me to ship. If my trunk had been on deck, I would have hailed a boat and escaped at all hazards; but I could not abandon the relics of my childhood, for I depended upon them to prove that Louise Farringford was my mother.

I asked myself what wicked thing I had done to deserve the fate which was evidently in store for me if I remained on board of the Michigan. Whatever I had done, it seemed to me that my punishment must be more than I could bear. Ben Waterford would be a demon in his relations to me, after the check I had been upon his evil deeds in Chicago. He was a man of violent temper when excited, and I regarded him as a malicious and a remorseless man.

It seemed stranger to me than it will to any of my readers, that this man should now appear in New York as the mate of the bark in which I had shipped. Still there was nothing which could not be easily reconciled, except the fact itself. I had myself heard him say, on board his yacht, when we were sailing on Lake Michigan, that he had been a sailor; that he had made several voyages—two of them as second mate, and one as chief mate. This was precisely the recommendation which had been given to Captain Farraday of his qualifications. He was a good sailor, and I had learned a great deal about vessels from him.

I concluded, after passing the circumstances through my mind, that he had failed in every other kind of business, and had been obliged to go to sea again. But if he was guilty of the forgery in St. Louis of which he was suspected, and of the robbery of my trunk, of which I was tolerably confident, he was well provided with funds; and certainly he was not compelled to go to sea to earn his living, though it would be convenient for him to be in any other locality than the United States for the next few months or years, till the excitement about the forgery had subsided.

The steward's room, where my trunk had been placed, was in the steerage—a rude apartment between decks, next to the cabin. Several rough pine bunks had been built here, for the cabin steward, carpenter, and sail-maker. The two latter were unusual officers on board a Mediterranean vessel. I was thinking in what manner I could get out of the bark, and I walked from the steerage forward. The hatches were off, and the hold was open. The vessel had but little freight, and was really going out in ballast, for a cargo of fruit. I did not wish to show myself to Ben Waterford, if I could possibly avoid it. I concluded that he would be on the quarter-deck with the captain. I went to the hatch, and ascended by the notched stanchion.

The crew were still engaged in their wild orgies, which they considered as mere skylarking; but the oaths and the roughness of their manners led me to avoid them. The captain and the mate were standing near the wheel, talking. I went to the side, and looked over into the water. The boat which had brought off the mate was still there. Two men sat in it, and I hoped I might be able to make a bargain with them to convey me to the shore. If I could escape, I intended to denounce Ben Waterford to the police on shore as the forger and robber, for in this way there was a chance that I might recover my gold.

I went to an open port, and beckoned to the two men in the boat, who appeared to be waiting for something. They obeyed my summons, and came up beneath the port.

"What do you want?" demanded one of them, as he stuck the boat-hook into the side of the bark.

"I will give you five dollars if you will take me and my trunk on shore," I replied, as loud as I dared speak.

"All right; I'll do it," replied the man, evidently satisfied with the liberal offer I made. "Hand down the trunk."

"What are you waiting for?" I added.

"The captain wants to send his papers to the custom-house; but never mind that. We will take you on shore as soon as you are ready."

"I will be ready as soon as I can get my trunk on deck," I answered.

"Hurry up. I understand the case. You are sick of your ship, and want to leave her. That's none of my business. I'll help you off, if you will hand over the money."

I gave the man one of the sovereigns I had purchased with the sixty dollars which remained of my funds.

"Bear a hand," said the man, as he glanced at the coin, and slipped it into his pocket.

"I will be ready in less than five minutes."

"Don't let them see you if you can help it."

I had already decided how the plan was to be carried out. A piece of whale line lay on the deck near the mainmast, one end of which I dropped down the hatch, making the other end fast at a belaying-pin on the fiferail. Fortunately for me, the men were forward of the house on deck, and the officers were on the quarter-deck, busily engaged in discussing some difficult subject, I judged, by the energy they used in their discourse. The two men who had come off with the mate were taking part in the discussion, and I was confident that Captain Farraday had forgotten all about me.

I descended to the between-decks after I had satisfied myself that I was not observed. Conveying my trunk to the hatch, I attached the whale line to one of the handles. Running up the notched stanchion again, I reached the deck, and took another careful survey of the surroundings before I proceeded any further. The men were still skylarking; the shipping agent sat on the rail watching them, and the group on the quarter-deck had not yet settled the dispute in which they were engaged. The open port was abreast of the hatch. Grasping the line, I hauled my trunk on deck. Dragging it to the port-hole, I lowered it into the boat, where it was taken by the two men.

"Hallo, there, Farringford! What are you about?" shouted Captain Farraday, rushing into the waist, followed by the mate and the two passengers.

I was just congratulating myself on my success in getting away, when my ears were saluted by this unwelcome call. I was determined not to be cast down by the unfortunate discovery, and seizing the rope by which I had lowered my trunk, I slid down upon it into the boat. I considered myself all right then; but youth is proverbially over-confident and over-enthusiastic. The men in the boat cast off the line from my trunk, and pushed off from the bark.

"Hallo, Farringford! Where are you going?" shouted the captain through the open port.

"I have concluded to go on shore again," I replied, with great equanimity, for I felt considerable assurance for the future, now that I was actually out of the bark.

"But you have signed the papers, and belong to the vessel now," replied Captain Farraday.

"I will thank you to scratch my name from the papers," I added.

"Phil Farringford!" shouted the wonderful mate, as he thrust his head out of the port-hole, and apparently for the first time saw and recognized me. "Don't let him get off!"

The head of the mate disappeared. I saw the interest he felt in the matter, and as soon as he comprehended the situation he was very active.

"Pull away!" said I to the men in the boat with me.

"Your chances are small, my lad," added the one with whom I had made my trade.

"We have the start of them."

"Not much."

"They have no boat ready."

"Yes, they have. The shipping master's boat is pulling around the bark to keep any of the crew from getting off. There it is; he has hailed it."

I saw a sharp and jaunty-looking boat pull up to the accommodation ladder. Captain Farraday and the new mate leaped into it, and the men gave way with a will.

"Pull, my men," I said, when I saw that my companions were not disposed to use their muscles very severely.

"No use; we can't pull this boat against that one."

"I will give you another sovereign if you will keep out of their way, and land me anywhere in the city," I added, feeling that I had lost all influence over the oarsmen because I had already paid them.

"We will do the best we can for you. Pull, Tom," replied the spokesman.

Then commenced an exciting race; and I will do my men the justice to say that they did the best they could. But the shipping master's boat was lighter and sharper, and his men were exceedingly well trained. Ben Waterford was in earnest, and not only crowded his oarsmen to their utmost, but he took a spare oar and helped them with his own muscle. Our pursuers were gaining upon us, and my heart sank within me.

"We are losing it," said the man at the stroke oar. "I am sorry for you, for I don't believe that bark is going to Palermo, or anywhere else up the Mediterranean."

"Where is she going?" I asked, startled by this suggestion.

"Of course I don't know; but, in my opinion, she is going to the coast of Africa."

"Coast of Africa!" I exclaimed.

"I don't know, but I think so."

"Her shipping papers say Palermo."

"Shipping papers are not of much account on such voyages."

"Pull away!" I cried, as I saw the other boat gaining upon us.

My men increased their efforts; and, as talking diminished their activity, I did not say any more, though I was anxious to know more about the Michigan. I did not yet understand why the bark should go to the coast of Africa, instead of Palermo.

"I put the Spaniard that went off with the first mate on board of a vessel a few months ago, which was seized before she got out of the harbor," said the boatman.

"Pull with all your might," I added, trying to help the man nearest to me.

"We are doing the best we can."

But we had not accomplished half the distance to the shore, and the pursuers were close upon us. A few more strokes decided the contest. I was in utter despair. The prospect of being in a vessel for three or four weeks, with Ben Waterford as chief mate, was intolerable, and I began to consider whether I had not better jump overboard. I felt as though I should never again see either father or mother, or the Gracewoods; and on such conditions life would be unsupportable. I do not mean to say that I meditated suicide; but I felt that I had better run any risk than be captured. If I had known as much then as I learned within a fortnight afterwards, I should have been even more desperate than I was.

"It's no use!" exclaimed my boatman, dropping his oar and giving up the contest.

The shipping master's boat ran alongside our craft, and the crew laid violent hands upon it. I was now face to face with Ben Waterford.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER, AND FINDS SOMETHING ELSE.

My men had given up the contest, but I had not. A single glance at Mr. Ben Waterford was enough to nerve my arm for anything. But really there was nothing that I could do, except to fight an insane battle with the certainty of defeat.

"Well, Farringford, I didn't think you were such a chicken," said Captain Farraday, with an obvious sneer on his face.

"I have concluded not to go in the Michigan," I replied, very much crestfallen.

"Have you? Well, as you have signed the papers, I have concluded that you shall go in the Michigan. I don't back out myself, and don't mean to let others do so."

"Won't you let me off?" I asked, willing to try what fair words could do.

"Can't do it, my hearty. The fact is, I took a fancy to you when we first met, and I can't afford to part company with you so soon."

"Nor I, either," added Ben Waterford. "I have sailed with Phil before, and I know he will make a good sailor. He has the regular sea swash about him. Come, Phil, come into this boat, and don't waste time."

"I shall never go to sea with you, if I can help it," I replied, looking about me for the means of doing something to redeem myself from my fate.

"That's just the point; you can't help it. You have signed the articles, and you are sold to the Michigan for this voyage," added Ben.

"Come along, Farringford. I find the new mate is a man after my own heart," said the captain.

"He is not a man after my own heart, and I would rather be excused from serving under him. I don't think we shall agree."

"You may not agree, but he will," laughed the captain, who did not appear to be half so amiable as before I had signed the shipping papers.

"I don't think you know him. In my opinion, the police commissioners of St. Louis would like to see him very much indeed," I answered.

This was a very imprudent remark on my part, though it was only the simple truth. Ben Waterford's face turned red, and he leaped into the boat where I was.

"We have carried this farce just far enough," said he, angrily. "I'm not going to fool all day with any one. Now get into that boat. Tumble his trunk in."

The men with me obeyed the order, and my valuable trunk was placed in the stern sheets of the shipping master's boat. I could not hope successfully to resist the captain and mate of the Michigan, and calmer reflection than I had at first given the subject cooled my desperate ardor. But I still hoped that some lucky event would save me from my fate.

"Tumble into the boat, Phil," repeated the mate.

"I want you to tell the police of New York, as soon as possible," I continued, turning to my boatman, "that the mate of the Michigan is—"

I had not time to say any more before Ben Waterford seized me by the throat, and pitched me into the other boat.

Phil made Prisoner by Waterford.

"Is a forger," I shouted.

"Shove off," said Captain Farraday; and the two boats separated.

"I'll tell them," replied the boatman, who was evidently vexed at the loss of the promised sovereign, though he had done his best to earn it.

"I want you to come alongside the bark, and carry the papers to the custom-house," said Captain Farraday. "I will give you five dollars if you will."

"I'll give you five more," added Ben Waterford.

I saw that those who were likely to be my friends were to be bought off. Ten dollars would effectually silence them, and I had nothing more to hope for, though it occurred to me that I might communicate with the pilot, whose canoe had come alongside just as I left the bark. I had exhausted my own resources, and I prayed to God for help. I was driven up the accommodation ladder, and reached the deck, utterly defeated and cast down. The men hoisted up my trunk, but I felt as though that and myself might as well be at the bottom of the bay. I had neglected, both in the letter and the spirit, the advice of my father, and I was in a fair way to suffer severely for it. If Ben Waterford had not been the mate of the bark, my future would have seemed more tolerable.

"What shall we do with him?" asked Captain Farraday. "Send him forward with the rest of the crew?"

"Not yet; he is turbulent, and may make trouble there. We will keep him aft till we are in blue water. Come with me, Phil," he continued, in savage tones, which were a foretaste of what I might reasonably expect from him.

I followed him into the cabin, where he ordered me to wait his further pleasure. He looked into several state-rooms, and finally entered one of them, closing the door behind him. I had an opportunity for reflection; but I had nothing to think of but the misery which the future had in store for me. I sat down on a stool, and it was the literal stool of repentance to me. If I could only get on shore once more, I should be willing to give my word never to go to sea as a sailor again. Captain Farraday came below while I was there, but he said nothing to me. He enclosed some papers in an envelope, and soon left me alone.

He had hardly gone before Ben Waterford came out of the state-room. He had changed his clothes, and looked more like a sailor than before. When I first saw him, I recognized him as the "Mr. A. McGregor" I had seen on board of the steamer. Of course I had no more doubt that he had robbed me of my money. I concluded that he had in some manner learned that I had it before he left St. Louis, and had probably come on board of the boat to obtain it. He had shaved off his whiskers, and taken other precautions to avoid recognition.

"Go in there, Phil," said he, pointing to the state-room he had just left. "You and I have berthed together before, and we can do it again."

"I don't care about going on this voyage now, Mr. Waterford."

"Perhaps not; but you have shipped, and you are bound to go now."

"If you will let me off—"

"I have no time to talk now. Go in there. I shall know where to find you when I want you."

"I was only going to say—"

"In there," said he, savagely; and he made a demonstration towards me.

I concluded that it would be the safest way for me to obey, and I entered the state-room. He closed the door behind me, and I heard the bolt of the lock spring upon me. I was a prisoner, and Ben Waterford intended that I should remain where I was till the bark was in blue water. In a short time I heard the voice of the captain, giving orders on the quarter-deck to get the vessel under way. I had nothing to do but bewail my sad fate.

The state-room belonged to the chief mate. On a desk in the corner was a volume lettered "Log-book." On the floor was Ben Waterford's trunk, and I was almost sure I had seen it on board of the steamer on the Ohio. I stooped down to look at it, in order to satisfy myself, for I had nothing else to do. The key was in the key-hole. This was certainly a great oversight on the part of the mate. He could not have intended to leave his trunk open while I was a prisoner in his room; but villains are always making blunders and mistakes.

I am willing to acknowledge that it is not right to retaliate for an injury; but I at once decided to explore the trunk of Mr. Ben Waterford. I did not intend to do so from motives of revenge, but simply in the interests of justice, and with the hope that I might find my lost money. I had been trying for years to be a Christian young man. I had been in earnest, and every day I had read the New Testament, and endeavored to follow its precepts and principles. I honestly believe, if I could have performed a good service to the new mate, I should not have hesitated to do it.

I opened the trunk, and lifted up the various articles which it contained. Among other things, I found several bags of money—gold, I concluded by the weight of them. I untied the strings of several of them, and found that they contained English sovereigns and Spanish doubloons. They were not mine, and I restored them. If I had known then to what use they were to be applied, I should have felt justified in throwing them all into the sea. I concluded that Waterford had exchanged the money he had obtained by forgery in St. Louis for this gold. I tied up each bag as I found it, and put it back in its place. While I was thus engaged, I heard the creaking of the rigging, and the bark had careened over so that I understood she was now going to sea.

But I had not examined all the bags, and I continued my investigation. Among them I found a quantity of coin tied up in a white linen handkerchief. I removed the string, and was pleased to find that the money consisted of American gold. I had counted my own coin times enough to know exactly of what it consisted. There were sixty twenty-dollar pieces and thirty ten-dollar pieces. It did not take me long to count them, and the number corresponded to my own. I was satisfied that this money was mine, though of course I could not identify all the pieces. I should not have been willing to swear to any one of them, though some had a very familiar look.

I claimed this gold, and being my own judge and jury, my claim was allowed. It was possible that it was not mine; but the probabilities were all in my favor. I decided to take possession, though it occurred to me that I might as well take possession of the vessel, since I was in the power of my enemy, and he could take it from me at his own pleasure. I proceeded to tie up the handkerchief as I had found it, when upon one corner of it I found the initials "P. F." These letters certainly belonged to me, whether the gold did or not. They had been worked in the linen by Mrs. Greenough, my excellent St. Louis landlady. It was the counterpart of the others in my wardrobe; and it was perfectly evident that Mr. Ben Waterford had stolen the handkerchief from my trunk when he opened it to take out the gold. I had not missed the handkerchief, but I identified it to my own satisfaction. I thought that a less partial judge and jury would have given me the verdict on this evidence, added to that I had before obtained.

I put the gold into my coat pocket, hoping that my wits would enable me to retain it through the vicissitudes which were before me. I had recovered my money, but I cannot say that I felt much better than before. It was like the yellow dross upon the desert island; I had no opportunity to use it; but I felt that I was in better condition to escape whenever an occasion should be presented. I put everything in the trunk just as I had found it, except the portion that belonged to me. I locked it, and then, having unscrewed the bull's eye, I opened it, and dropped the key overboard.

By this time the bark was pitching in the billows, and I concluded that we must soon be in "blue water." It grew dark in the state-room; but at last the door opened, and the mate summoned me to appear on deck.

CHAPTER IX.

IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF RATED AS AN ABLE SEAMAN IN THE PORT WATCH.

"We are in blue water, Phil," said Mr. Ben Waterford, as he opened the door of the state-room. "I didn't know but you might want to take a last look at the shores of your native land, as you are a little sentimental, like all young monkeys when they go to sea for the first time."

"Thank you; it is very kind of you to give me the opportunity to do so," I replied.

"It may be a long time before you see it again."

"Neither of us may ever see it again."

"That's a good deal more likely to happen to you than to me."

"There's no knowing what may happen to either of us."

"Whatever happens to either of us, I want you to understand, in the first place, Phil, that I am the mate of this vessel."

"I understand that already, and because I understood it, I wanted to get out of the vessel."

"You didn't get out of her."

"Unfortunately I did not."

"I didn't mean you should," said the mate, chuckling over the success of his efforts.

"I'm here, and I'm disposed to make the best of it."

"I have no doubt you will be meek enough now; but you needn't attempt to play the hypocrite here. Your cant won't help you."

"Cant never helps any one."

"You are growing sensible as you grow older," said he, with a sneer. "I see you have shipped as an able seaman."

"I was not aware that I had shipped in any particular capacity. I signed the paper at the captain's request."

"You are a very innocent little lamb. Didn't you write able seaman against your name?"

"I did not."

"Then somebody else wrote it there for you, because you neglected to rate yourself."

"My signing the paper was a mere form. I came on board to work my passage to Palermo; and the captain said he would let me go when we got there."

"When we get to Palermo he will do so," chuckled the mate. "In the mean time, as you are written down as an able seaman, we shall regard you as such, and expect you to do duty as one."

I did not understand him then; but I afterwards learned that sailors, when they ship, rate themselves as able seamen, ordinary seamen, or boys, the latter term meaning green hands, whatever their age or size. If a man claims to be an able seaman, he must do the work of one; not only be able to hand, reef, and steer, but to perform all the difficult problems in making and mending rigging. In a word, he must be proficient in all the arts of seamanship. He receives the highest rate of wages.

An ordinary seaman is required to hand, reef, and steer; to make the usual knots, and to understand the ropes and sails so that he can obey an order from the officers; but he is not expected to be proficient in all the niceties of making and mending rigging. A boy, or green hand, is not supposed to know anything except what is taught him after he comes on board. It is a great nautical sin for a man to ship above his proper rating. If he signs his name and takes his pay as an able seaman when he is not competent to perform the work of one, he is regarded as a cheat. As there are usually but few able seamen in a ship, the work of one who has thus deceived the officer has to be done by others, and he is generally punished severely for the trick. The most unpopular hand before the mast is one who has shipped above his rate; and all his shipmates feel that they have a reasonable grudge against him.

The mate had evidently rated me on the ship's papers to suit himself, intending thereby to draw down upon me the enmity of the crew. I expected no favors from him, and was prepared to submit to any indignities and hardships to which I might be subjected, consoling myself with the belief that I had only three or four weeks of service in the bark before me.

"I shall do my duty to the best of my ability," I continued. "I did not expect to find you in the vessel, or I should not have been here."

"I suppose not; but I'm very glad you are here. I may say I wanted you here, and it is not altogether by chance that you happen to be here," he replied, shaking his head. "You have come athwart my hawse once or twice too often, Phil."

"I have never had any malice or ill-will towards you."

"Tell that to the marines! If you had minded your own business, I should have been a rich man, and the husband of Marian Collingsby to-day. No matter, my lad; I mean to be both yet."

"I only did what I considered it my duty to do."

"None of your cant! I'm going to call all hands in a few minutes, and I shall take care that you are in my watch."

"Wherever I am, I shall do the best I know how."

"You will wish you had always done so, and not meddled with my affairs, before this cruise is up. You are not going to live in the cabin, and have plum duff for dinner every day."

"I will submit as cheerfully as possible to my lot, whatever it may be."

Ben Waterford appeared to be angry because his threats did not appall me. I hoped that God would give me strength to do my duty, and enable me to bear all I might be called upon to endure. My tyrant seemed to be disposed to torture me before he sacrificed me; but I was determined not to be tortured by any mere words that he used. I had already nullified a part of the mischief he had done me, for I had my gold in my pocket. If I could retain this, my future seemed to be tolerably secure.

"Do you know how you happen to be on board of this bark, Phil?" said Waterford, the malice twinkling in his eye.

"The circumstances led me here."

"Not exactly! I led you here."

"Perhaps you did, for it looks now as though an evil spirit had guided my steps."

"Good, Phil! That was well said. You hit the nail on the head. I won't tell you yet where we are bound; but I must tell you that I saw you on board of the ferry-boat when you came to New York, and that Captain Farraday induced you to ship because I desired it. This will be good news to you, and I wished you to know it. Before I have done with you, I am going to teach you to mind your own business."

"You will find me a good scholar at that," I replied.

I asked no questions, as he evidently wished me to do. I had parted with him when we left the Ohio, but I had no idea where he had been since that time. His explanation showed me why Captain Farraday had been so anxious to have me go with him, and I felt that I had walked into the trap very blindly.

"That's all, Phil. We shall be even soon. Now we will go on deck. Where's your trunk?"

"On deck, I believe."

I followed him on deck. The bark was under all sail, and driving rapidly over the blue waves. Far away in the distance I saw some hills, which the darkness soon shut out from my view. The drunken crew had certainly improved wonderfully since I had seen them last, for all were quiet and orderly. I found my trunk, and was ordered to carry it to the forecastle. A bunk near the door was assigned to me, and I put my trunk under it.

"How do you like this?" asked the mate.

"Very well," I replied.

"Very well? Is that the way you address your officer? If you ever speak to me or the second mate without a 'sir,' you will get knocked down for your impudence. Do you understand that?"

"I do, sir."

"That's better. Now open your trunk; and let's see what you have in it."

"Open my trunk, sir!" I exclaimed, amazed at this requirement.

"Open it!" he added, sternly. "We look into every man's kit, to see that he has no liquor concealed there."

I thought this was a reasonable requirement, after this explanation, and I opened the trunk. The mate tumbled over my things very rudely. I had tied up the relics of my childhood in little bundles, so that he did not see their contents, and he only tossed them on the deck. He picked up the bag which had contained my gold.

"What's this for?" he demanded.

"I had my money in it, sir."

"Where's your money now?"

"I lost it, sir."

"Lost it!"

"It was stolen from me, sir."

"Was it? Well, I hope you may find it again—that's all," chuckled he.

I made no answer; but I could not help foreshadowing the scene when he examined the contents of his own trunk.

"Put back your duds, and stand by when all hands are called."

He left me, and I hastily restored my property to the trunk, and locked it. I took up the bag which the mate had examined, and dropped the handkerchief containing the gold into it. I dared not put the treasure into my trunk, and I looked about me for some secure place of deposit for it. An apartment frequented by twenty such men as composed the crew of the Michigan was not a safe place for fifteen hundred dollars in gold; but I had no alternative, and I thrust the bag into a hole under my berth.

"All hands on deck!" shouted the second mate, whose name was Tom York, though nautical courtesy compelled us to call him Mr. York.

The men gathered in the waist, and the captain made a speech to them, which I thought contained buncombe enough for a member of Congress; but the speaker, whose grog had not been stopped, as that of the crew had been, was still boozy. The men were then divided into watches, the mates alternately selecting a hand until all had been stationed.

"Call your man," said the captain to the chief mate.

"Phil Farringford, able seaman," replied Waterford.

"Your turn, Mr. York," added the captain.

"Ned Bilger."

"Jack Sanderson," continued the chief mate.

"Are you an able seaman, my hearty?" asked Sanderson, the man who had been chosen second in the port watch with me.

"No, I am not. The mate is down upon me, and rated me as an able seaman, because I did not know enough to rate myself," I replied.

"But we want the able seamen equally divided in the watches."

"The mate knows very well that I am not an able seaman," I added.

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Waterford, but this youngster says he's not an able seaman," said Sanderson, stepping up to the mate.

"He shipped as such, and we take him at his word. You must do the same."

"That will never do, my hearty," growled Sanderson to me.

"I can't help it."

"You are honest, my lad," said the old sailor, who was at least fifty years old. "I don't see why the mate should make his first choice of a youngster like you, though."

"I know something about a vessel, but not much. I am willing to do what I can to learn; but I don't pretend to be what I am not."

"That's honest," added old Jack, slapping me on the back. "I'll make an able seaman of you. There, pipe down. Now come with me, and we will overhaul the matter."

I went to the forecastle with Sanderson, and told him my story, so far as it related to my connection with the vessel.

CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH PHIL STANDS HIS WATCH, AND TAKES HIS TRICK AT THE WHEEL.

Jack Sanderson was an old sailor. I had noticed, when I first came on board of the bark, that he was very drunk. But he had a kind heart, and was a person of great natural ability. If he had let liquor alone, he might have been the master of a vessel. He was much interested in my story, and gave me such good advice as the circumstances required. He counselled me to obey the officers in all things, to be respectful, and to perform every duty with care and attention. I had already resolved to do all this, but I was strengthened by the advice of the old salt.

"I'm afraid the captain won't discharge you when we get to Palermo," said Jack.

"Then I shall discharge myself," I replied, decidedly.

"That's easy to say, my hearty, but not always easy to do. You signed the shipping papers."

"The captain told me that was a mere form, and that he would let me go when the bark arrived at Palermo."

"Perhaps he will let you go, and then again perhaps he won't. You can't always tell the night beforehand how the wind's going to blow. You've walked right into a scrape, and all you can do is to make the best of it."

"I intend to do that; and I think the best thing I can do will be to leave when we reach Palermo."

"There goes one bell, and we must turn in, for we shall be tumbled out at midnight," added Jack.

My bunk was next above that of my new friend. I knelt, as I always did, before my bed, and prayed for strength and grace. I had been in the habit of uttering my prayer audibly, and in a low tone. I did so on the present occasion. The rest of the port watch had all turned in, and most of them appeared to be snoring.

"So you say your prayers, Phil," said Jack Sanderson, as I climbed into my berth.

Phil Prayed for Strength and Grace.

"Yes, sir; I always do that, and I do not feel like neglecting it here."

"That's right, my lad. I don't do so myself, but I like to see others do it; I wish I could. I always feel safer in a vessel when somebody prays."

"If you think it is right to do so, I hope you will do it yourself."

"I don't think I could now. I was brought up to do so; but I've drank liquor enough to float this bark from New York to Palermo, and that's knocked all the good out of me."

"I would stop drinking liquor."

"Stop! But I'm an old sailor."

"Have you any liquor on board?"

"Not a drop."

"Then you will drink none on this cruise."

"Not a thimbleful."

"If you can get along without it for three or four weeks at sea, why can you not do without it when you go ashore?"

"You are green, my lad. By the time you can take your trick at the wheel, and parcel a stay, you will know all about it. But batten down your peepers, and go to sleep, Phil."

It was not so easy for me to go to sleep after the excitement of the evening, and I wasted half of my watch below in thinking over the events of the day. Certainly I had enough to reflect upon, enough to regret, and enough to dread in the future. I was completely in the power of my enemy. I could only submit, and suffer. It was possible that Captain Farraday, after he was sober, would save me from absolute abuse; but I did not expect anything from him. I went to sleep at last, because I could think of nothing to mitigate my hard lot.

"All the port watch!" rang through the forecastle before I was ready to hear the call, for I had not slept two hours.

However, I was one of the first to hear the summons, because I had no drunken debauch to sleep off. I turned out instantly, and shook Jack Sanderson till he came out of his drunken stupor. He leaped briskly from his bunk, and we were the first to report ourselves on deck. The chief mate had not yet appeared, and I wondered whether he had discovered the loss of a part of his specie. I expected a tremendous storm when he ascertained that his ill-gotten gold had disappeared. He could not unlock his trunk without the use of the pick-lock; but, as he had found no difficulty in opening mine, I did not think he would in opening his own. The only thing that troubled me was the insecurity of the hiding-place I had chosen for my treasure. I was looking for a better place, and I hoped the storm would not come till I had found it.

The bark was still under all sail, with the wind from the south-west. I noticed a change in the sails, and that the vessel rolled now, instead of pitching. Either the wind had changed, or the course of the bark had been altered; I could not tell which. I liked the motion of the vessel; and, as she sped over the waves, I could have enjoyed the scene if I had not been in the power of an enemy. While I was looking at the sails and the sea, the chief mate came on deck. By this time the starboard watch had roused their sleepy shipmates, and the whole port watch were at their stations.

"Phil Farringford!" called the mate.

"Here, sir," I replied, stepping up to the quarter-deck; and I observed that Jack Sanderson followed me as far as it was proper for him to go.

"You are an able seaman, Phil; take your trick at the wheel."

"Ay, ay, sir," I replied, using the language I had heard others use when ordered by an officer to do anything.

"Beg your pardon, sir; but Phil does not pretend to be an able seaman," interposed my salt friend.

"Who spoke to you?" growled the mate. "Go forward, and when I want anything of you I'll call for you."

"I only wanted to say, sir—"

"Shut up!"

Jack went forward, followed by a shower of oaths from the mate.

"Relieve the helm, Phil," repeated Waterford.

"Ay, ay, sir."

I went to the wheel.

"You are down on the shipping papers as an able seaman, and you ought to be able to take your trick at the wheel."

"I will do the best I can, sir," I replied.

"You will steer the bark, or take the consequences," said the mate, as if satisfied that he had put me in a position where I must make a failure, and call down upon my head the wrath and contempt of my shipmates.

There were but two able and three ordinary seaman in the port watch. The others, like myself, were green hands, who had never stood at a wheel. The five seamen, therefore, would be obliged to do all the steering; and of course it put more of this duty upon them than the other watch had, in which there were three able and three ordinary seamen. Five men would have to do the work which properly belonged to six; and these men, in the common course of life on shipboard, would hate and annoy, to the best of their ability, the one who imposed this extra labor upon them.

I had never steered at a wheel, but I was perfectly at home at the helm of a yacht. I knew the compass, and understood when a sail was drawing properly. Perhaps it was presumptuous in me, but I made up my mind, when ordered to do it, that I could steer the bark. She was going free, with the wind a little abaft the beam, and this made it easy for a beginner. While I stood listening to the mate, I noticed that the helmsman steered very "small;" indeed, the bark seemed to take care of herself.

"South-east," said Ned Bilger, whom I relieved at the helm.

"South-east," I repeated, as I had heard the wheelman say when the course was given to him.

I placed myself on the weather side of the wheel, and grasped the spokes with a firm hand. Fixing my gaze upon the compass in the binnacle, I determined to make a success of my first attempt to steer. I was a mechanic, and I fully comprehended the working of the machinery of the compass. All I had to do was to keep the point south-east on the notch; or, in other words, to keep south-east in range with the bowsprit. I was cool and self-possessed, for I felt that I could do all that was required of me.

Waterford walked forward, as I took the helm, to look after the men. Doubtless he expected the bark would come up into the wind in a moment, and that he should have an opportunity to lay me out. I soon found that the vessel carried a weather helm; or, if left to herself, would throw her head tip into the wind. As the compass appeared to turn, though in reality it was the bark that varied, I met her with the helm. I steered small, thus avoiding the usual mistake of inexperienced helmsmen; and I found that a single spoke brought the compass back to its proper position. In five minutes I felt entirely at home; but I thanked my stars that the bark did not happen to be close-hauled, for, between laying a course and keeping all the sails drawing, I should have been badly bothered.

As soon as I understood the wheel, I rather liked the work. I was so interested in my occupation that I ceased to gape, and felt very much like an old sailor. The mate, who was evidently waiting for me to make a blunder, said nothing more to me. He occasionally walked aft and glanced at the compass; but I was very careful not to let the bark vary a hair from her course. As the mate said nothing, I imitated his example. It is not proper for any one to talk to the man at the wheel, and Waterford showed that he was a good officer by holding his tongue. I kept up a tremendous thinking; and, among other things, I tried to explain why, if the bark was bound up the Mediterranean, her course was to the south-east. I knew about the variation of the compass; but, as it was less than a point to the westward, it did not account for the present course. My theory was, that the vessel ought to be headed about east, in order to reach the Straits of Gibraltar. But I did not venture to express any opinion on this subject to the captain or the mate.

Waterford planked the deck, and I fancied that he was not at all pleased to find that I could steer the bark. While I congratulated myself that I was able to do so, I knew there were a hundred other things I could not do, and therefore his revenge was only deferred for a few hours. At four bells, Dick Baxter, one of the able seamen of our watch, came aft and relieved me.

"What do you mean, Phil?" demanded Jack Sanderson, when I went forward. "You said you wasn't a seaman."

"I never steered a square-rigged vessel before in my life," I replied. "I have been at the helm of a yacht."

"You steered like an old sailor, my hearty, and kept her as steady as a judge on the bench."

"I am going to do the best I can. I know something about a vessel, but I have a great deal to learn."

"I'll learn you, my lad."

"Thank you. I shall be very grateful to you."

I spent the remaining two hours of my watch on deck in learning the names and uses of the various ropes of the running rigging. I studied on halyards, sheets, buntlines, and clew-garnets, and I thought I made good progress. But the next day I was introduced to a cringle, and found myself at fault.

CHAPTER XI.

IN WHICH PHIL MAKES A CRINGLE, AND VISITS THE CROSS-TREES.

At eight bells, or four in the morning, the port watch was relieved, and I was permitted to sleep till half past seven, which is breakfast time on board ship. We did not sit down at a table, with plates, knives, forks, and spoons, but formed a circle around a kid of corned beef and a pan of crackers. The bill of fare was salt junk and hard tack. The starboard watch, which had been on deck from eight till twelve, and from four till eight, were allowed to sleep in during the forenoon; but after dinner all hands were required to be on deck, and to work on sails, rigging, and chafing-gear.

"Phil Farringford, able seaman!" shouted the mate, who was busy setting the men at work.

"Here, sir," I replied. "But I don't pretend to be an able seaman."

"Don't deny it any more. You are on the shipping articles as such, and draw wages as an able seaman."

"I don't draw any wages, sir," I replied. "I have received no advance, and I only agreed to work my passage to Palermo."

"I hope you will work your passage to Palermo; but I don't believe you will in this vessel," chuckled he.

"That was all I agreed to do, sir."

"I don't care what you agreed to do. We go by the papers on board ship. Do you see that sail?" he continued, pointing to a topsail which lay on the deck.

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to work a cringle into this corner," he added, picking up the part of the sail indicated.

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Make it so as to hold this thimble," said he, handing me an iron ring with concave outer edges. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I replied.

I could see the malice twinkling in his eye, as he walked away, and left me to perform the difficult job. Fortunately I knew what a cringle was, and I had even worked one upon the leech-line of a sail belonging to my yacht. But I never had done such a piece of work as that now required of me, and I felt that I was caught. Still I did not give it up. I saw some of the seamen grinning as though they enjoyed my chagrin. I had put a cringle upon the gaff-topsail of the Ella Gracewood, and there was no reason why I should not do the same job on a larger scalp. I knew most of the knots in common use—could make a short splice, an eye splice, and a Flemish eye.

I took the short piece of rope of which I was to make the cringle, and proceeded to calculate the details of the work. I found a cringle in another sail, and using this as a pattern, I went at the job in good earnest. I watched the other hands, and used the marlin-spike and slush, as I saw them do it. Having a mechanical head, I soon satisfied myself that I was on the right track; and then Jack Sanderson contrived to get near me. He gave me a few hints which helped me very much, and within a reasonable time my cringle was finished.

"It's well done, Phil. I believe you are an able seaman, after all," said Jack.

"No; I am not."

"No sailor could have done that job any better. Can you make an eye splice?"

"I can; and a short splice."

"Can you make a long splice?"

"I never did; but I think I could. I owned a yacht for a year and a half, and I used to do most of the work on her rigging."

"You'll do," laughed Jack, as Mr. Waterford came on deck.

I glanced at the chief mate as he walked forward. I thought he looked ugly and worried about something.

"Have you made that cringle, Phil?" said he, feeling uneasily in his pockets.

"Yes, sir," I replied, exhibiting my work.

"Who did that?"

"I did, sir."

"You lie!" exclaimed he, with an oath. "Somebody did it for you."

"No, sir; I did it all myself."

"Who helped him, Mr. York?" asked Waterford, turning to the second mate.

"No one, sir; he did it himself."

"Has any one seen a key lying about the deck?" demanded the mate, suddenly changing the topic.

No one answered him, and no one appeared to have found a key about the deck. He had just discovered the loss of his key, and I concluded that it was this circumstance which made him ugly.

"I have lost the key of my trunk," added Waterford. "Has any one found it?"

No one had, and so there was no answer.

"Why don't you say something?"

"I haven't found any key, sir," replied Jack Sanderson; and so said a dozen others.

The mate set all hands to searching about the deck for the key. I looked with the others, but I had not the least hope of finding it. No one else was any more successful, and the search on deck was abandoned. The mate went into the cabin again, and the men continued their work. The second mate gave me another job to do, but as it was simpler than the first, I succeeded very well. In fact, I began to think myself that I was an able seaman. Just before eight bells, Waterford came on deck again, looking tenfold more ugly than before. I concluded that he had opened his trunk, and discovered the loss of a portion of his gold, or rather the loss of that portion which belonged to me.

"Where's the key of your trunk, Phil?" demanded he.

"In my pocket, sir."

"Give it to me," he added, sternly.

"Am I not allowed to keep the key of my own trunk, sir?"

"None of your impudence. I believe you have liquor in your trunk, and I shall examine it again."

I gave him my key.

"Now, go up to the main cross-trees, and keep a lookout to windward for any sail. If you see anything, hail the deck."

"Ay, ay, sir," I replied, moving forward.

"Where are you going?"

"After my coat, sir."

"Obey my order."

Instead of going to the forecastle, as I supposed he would, he went aft, and then into the cabin. I took my coat from the berth where I had left it. From the movements of the mate, I concluded that he was going below to see if my key would fit his trunk, and thus determine whether I had opened it or not. I deemed it prudent to take my treasure from its hiding-place, and put it into my pocket, for I feared that a search would be made during my absence. I had not been aloft since I signed the shipping articles, though I had done so during my first visit to the bark. I knew where the main cross-trees were, and I was soon seated upon them, with my eyes turned to windward.

Of course I had not been sent aloft to keep a lookout for a sail to windward. I was simply exiled to this lofty perch that I might be out of the way while the mate searched for the gold in my trunk. I had no objection to the cross-trees; on the contrary, I rather liked the idea of being upon them. I should not have to answer any hard questions during the examination.

Of the two events which occurred on the first day of my sea-life, CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE are the most prominent in my mind.

I sat upon the cross-trees with my arm around the weather main top-gallant shrouds. I looked to windward occasionally, but I kept the run of all that was transpiring on deck. I saw the mate go into the forecastle, and I had no doubt he was looking for the fifteen hundred dollars in gold which had first been in my trunk, then in his, and was now in my coat pocket. If he was actually looking for the money, it would be a difficult matter for me to conceal it; but I was determined to throw it overboard rather than permit him to have and enjoy it. I took the bag from my pocket, and considered what disposition I should make of it.

"On the cross-trees!" shouted Waterford.

"Ay, ay, sir!" I replied.

"Come down!"

I might as well throw the gold into the sea, as go down with it in my pocket. I jammed the bag in between the trestle-trees, and after assuring myself that it was secure, I went down to the deck.

"Have you any liquor about you, Phil?" demanded the mate, as I reported myself to him.

"No, sir; I never use liquor."

"Let me see," said he, proceeding, without ceremony, to search me, which he did in a very thorough manner.

I knew what he was looking for, and I held still, patiently submitting to the operation.

"On the cross-trees again," said he, savagely, when he had completed the search.

"Ay, ay, sir," I replied, very willing to return, in order to satisfy myself that the gold was still safe.

I confess that I did not feel half so much pleasure in the possession of my money as I did before I lost it. I had very little hope of being able to retain it, and I regarded it as a very uncertain treasure—more uncertain even than earthly treasures usually are. I went up the main rigging, and on reaching the cross-trees, I found the bag where I had left it. For an hour I saw the mate going from place to place about the deck; but I think he spent half the time in the quarters of the crew. I put the bag in my pocket, and was soon ordered down. I went immediately to the forecastle, and found the key of my trunk in the key-hole. My clothes and everything else had been thoroughly overhauled, and were in hopeless confusion; but my precious relics were safe.

"Pass the word for Phil Farringford," said the second mate to a man near the door of the house on deck.

"Here, sir," I responded.

"Mr. Waterford wants you."

I threw the bag of gold hastily into the trunk, and locked it. I found the chief mate on the quarter-deck waiting for me.

"Why don't you come when I send for you?" said he, savagely.

"I did come; I am here, sir."

"It takes you a good while to come after you are called. You were in my state-room last night, Phil?"

"You put me there, sir."

"I say you were there; no matter how you came there."

"I was, sir."

"Did you see my trunk?"

"I did, sir."

"Was it open?"

"It was not."

"But you opened it," said he, angrily, as he doubled up his fist and shook it in my face with a horrid oath. "You stole fifteen hundred dollars from that trunk, Phil."

"I had fifteen hundred dollars stolen from my trunk, on the Ohio River."

"Did you? Well, it served you right."

"You don't seem to think so in your own case."

"None of your impudence, Phil. I say you stole fifteen hundred in gold from my trunk."

"I said that I had been equally unfortunate on the Ohio River. Mine was stolen by a fellow who called himself A. McGregor."

"Did you steal my money?" roared he, fiercely.

"No, sir; I did not steal your money."

"You lie! You did! What have you done with it?"

"I speak only the truth, sir."

It was the literal truth.

"Answer me; what have you done with my money?"

"I have none of your money, sir."

"You lie!"

And with that he hit me over the head with a wooden belaying-pin, and the blow brought me senseless to the deck.

The Mate strikes a heavy blow.

CHAPTER XII.

IN WHICH PHIL ASCERTAINS THE DESTINATION OF THE MICHIGAN.

When my senses came back to me I was lying in my bunk in the forecastle. Old Jack Sanderson was rubbing my head with spirits.

"How do you feel, Phil?" asked the old salt, tenderly.

"My head!" was all the reply I could make, for everything seemed to be whirling around, and to be as unsteady as the rolling ocean itself.

"He gave you a hard crack, my lad; but he didn't kill you."

"He might as well," I replied, tightly closing my eyes in my efforts to steady the scene around me.

"Not a bit of it, Phil, lad. One live man's worth half a dozen dead ones any time. You'll feel better by and by."

"I feel better now," I added, as things began to be a little more substantial. "The mate means to kill me, I believe, before he has done with me."

"He didn't make anything by that crack he gave you. We're rough in for'ad here, Phil, but we know what's right. The men all like you, Phil. They say you are smart, and that the mate is down on you. They are all on your side, every one of 'em, even to the second mate, though he daresn't say so."

"I am very much obliged to them for their good will; but I'm afraid they can't help me much while Mr. Waterford is down upon me."

"Perhaps they can, my lad. At any rate, that crack the mate gave you made you more than a dozen friends. We sailors always go for the bottom dog."

"I feel better now; I believe I will get up," I added, thinking of my money, and wondering whether Waterford had examined my trunk again while I lay senseless in my bunk.

"No, lad; don't get up yet. Keep quiet. I've wasted half a pint of good spirits on your head."

"Where did you get it?"

"Captain Farraday gave it to me. When he saw what the mate had done, he was a little scared, and sent me to take care of you. He gave me a glass of rum to wash your head in. Now lay still, and I will get another. If you take it inside, it will balance you right—keep you on an even keel."

He took the glass and disappeared before I could protest against his proposed treatment; but presently he returned with the tumbler half full of rum.

"Take a little of this, my lad," said he.

"No, I thank you; I don't need it. I feel much better, and that would only go into my head, and make me dizzy."

He urged the point very earnestly, but I persisted in my refusal to touch the vile stuff; the smell of it on my head was enough, and more than enough, for me.

"It will do you good," Jack insisted.

"Excuse me; I do not need it."

"Well, if you really mean so, I won't say another word about it. But it is a pity to have it wasted."

"You can return it to the captain."

"That would be worse than wasting it, Phil," he added, as he poured it down his own throat.

Perhaps this was the use he intended to make of the rum from the first; but I must do him the justice to say that he had conscientiously used the first glass he had obtained upon my head, judging from the condition of my hair. It must have been a great temptation to him.

"Has the mate been here since he knocked me down?" I asked.

"No; he hasn't been near you. He has a bad temper—that man. But what's the matter with him, lad? Why is he down upon you?"

"It would be a long story, Jack; but I will tell you all about it some time."

"He says you stole his money."

"I did not steal his money."

"Nobody believes you did."

"I feel better now, and I will get up," I added, suiting the action to the word.

"Let's see your head, my lad."

The old sailor examined the bump on the side of my head, which was quite sore, but was nothing serious. The blow had stunned me, and left me with an aching head; but I had received harder knocks than this one, and I was not disposed to magnify its effects. Jack left me, and I had an opportunity to look into my trunk. The bag of gold was safe, as I had left it. I returned it to the hiding-place where I had first put it, deeming this more secure than my trunk. I hoped the breeze had blown over, and I went on deck. The motley crew treated me very kindly when I made my appearance, and expressed their sympathy with me. In fact, the instincts of a crew always lead them to take sides against the officer.

It was the second dog watch, and the mate was not on deck. I ate my supper with the crew; and at eight bells, the port watch, to which I belonged, came on duty. We had made an arrangement among ourselves for the tricks at the wheel; and Gorro, a Spaniard, took the first turn. The weather, which had thus far been very favorable, now gave indications of a change. The wind came on squally and heavy, and at four bells, when the captain came on deck, he ordered the light sails to be furled.

"Lay aloft, Phil, and furl the main royal," said the mate. "Welsh, the fore royal."

"Ay, ay, sir," I replied.

I hastened up the main-rigging, my head still shaking from the effects of the blow I had received. The bark was rolling heavily in the sea, and the violent gusts of wind made her very unsteady. Not a sail had been disturbed since we left New York harbor. I had never done any work aloft, and had never even seen a royal furled. Fortunately the night was dark, and the mate could not see in what manner I did my work. But I had learned my lesson, so far as it could be learned by word of mouth.

The royal yard, on such a night as that, was a perilous place for an inexperienced hand; but I was not to be daunted by any danger. The halyard was let go, and the sail clewed up. I made up the bunt, and passed the gasket around the sail. Probably every part of the job was not done in a thoroughly seaman-like manner; but the sail was secure, and the mate did not go aloft to see how it was done. When the royal was furled, I went down, passing the two men who had been sent up to furl the main top-gallant sail. I paused on the cross-trees to rest myself a little, and to look out upon the white-capped billows of the dark ocean.

I had just furled a royal, and I felt like a sailor; I should have felt more like one if my head had not snapped so violently. The mast to which I clung was swaying up and down, as the bark rolled in the billows, and I felt that I had really entered upon the sea swashes of a sailor.

The wind increased in fury every moment; and though the furling of the light sails eased the vessel for a time, she soon labored heavily again. Two men were required at the wheel, and the swash of the sea came over the bulwarks in tons. At eight bells all hands were called. The courses had been hauled up, and now a reef was put in the fore and main topsails. But the bark still held her course to the south-east. It was a rough night, and all hands remained on deck till eight bells in the morning, when the weather began to moderate. I was wet to the skin, and shivered with cold. I had not been allowed to close my eyes, and I felt that the life of a sailor, even without a brutal mate, was a severe one.

When the gale subsided, the port watch had the deck, and it was not till after breakfast that I could get a nap. I slept my four hours; but in the afternoon all hands were required to work upon rigging and chafing-gear, as though they had had their regular sleep the night before. Mr. Waterford was uglier than ever, for he had been on duty with the crew. He sent me with a green hand to slush down the fore-top mast—a kind of work which, by the courtesies of the service, should not be imposed upon an able seaman, as he chose to regard me. I did not complain, but did the job faithfully.

I will not detail the trials and hardships to which I was subjected by the malice of the mate. Three weeks passed by, and we saw nothing of the Straits of Gibraltar. By this time, through a very severe experience, I had learned my duty. I knew every rope in the ship; and, if I was not an able seaman, I could do nearly everything that was required of one. Mr. Waterford had not again assaulted me with a weapon, but he had labored to make me as uncomfortable as possible. I saw very little of Captain Farraday, for the reason that he was drunk in the cabin the greater portion of the time. The two passengers, both of whom were Spaniards, came on deck every day; but I think that neither of them ever stepped forward of the mainmast.

There had been a great deal of discussion among the more intelligent men of the crew in regard to the destination of the bark. We could not see how she was ever to make the Straits of Gibraltar by heading to the south-east. The bark was a very fast sailer, and though she had encountered two gales, she had generally had favorable weather. I insisted that we were at least a thousand miles south of the latitude of the straits. The intense heat of the sun, when the wind was light, as well as his more vertical position, satisfied me on this point.

"Land ho!" shouted a sailor aloft, one morning.

"Where away?" called the mate.

"Broad on the lee bow."

The cry produced an intense excitement on board, and all hands were on the lookout for the land. I could distinctly see it—a lofty promontory. The announcement was immediately followed by an order to keep the bark one point more to the southward, so that we obtained no nearer view of the land.

"You are a scholar, Phil. What land was that?" asked old Jack Sanderson, when we happened to be together.

"I don't know; but I have an idea what it is."

"Well what's your idea, my lad?"

"I think it is one of the Cape Verde Islands."

"On the coast of Africa?"

"Yes."

"You don't mean it?"

"I do; you wouldn't believe me when I said we were a thousand miles south of the straits."

"Well, where are we bound? That's the question."

"I don't know."

"We all shipped for Palermo, and up the Mediterranean. I don't understand it."

"Nor I; but the mate is wicked enough to do anything. I am satisfied we are not bound to Palermo."

The whole crew were soon engaged in the discussion. The Spanish and Portuguese sailors laughed, and looked wise; others didn't care where we were bound; but the half dozen Americans were really troubled at the situation.

"Don't grumble," said Martino, the Spaniard. "We make gran fortune out of this cruise."

"How?" demanded Sanderson.

"No importa," chuckled the Spaniard. "Make gran pile of money on this cruise."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know where we are bound?" added Grego, a Portuguese.

"No."

"You may know now; you must know soon. We are bound to the coast of Africa, for a cargo of niggers," laughed Grego.

I believed it.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN WHICH PHIL GOES AFT, WITH OTHERS OF THE CREW, AND THEN GOES FORWARD.

I believed that the Michigan was bound to the coast of Africa for a cargo of slaves. The boatman who had tried to assist me to escape had said as much to me, though I did not understand it at the time. Captain Farraday declared that he should make his fortune on this voyage; and Waterford was desperate enough to do anything. The bark was certainly ten or twelve hundred miles south of her proper latitude if she was bound up the Mediterranean.

If there was anything in the world which I regarded as more horrible and wicked than anything else, it was the slave trade. At the time of which I write, in spite of the vigilance of the British and American cruisers on the African coast, several vessels had been successful in running cargoes of negroes to Cuba. The profits of the trade were so enormous that large wages could be paid to crews, and the vessel sacrificed at the end. It was evident to me that the Spanish and Portuguese seamen on board had been shipped for a slave voyage, or they would not have known the destination of the bark. We had often heard them talking together in their own language; but, as none of the crew understood it, their secret was safe till they or the officers chose to divulge it.

"What do you say to that, Jack?" asked Dick Baxter, as several of the American sailors met in the forecastle.

"I believe it, Dick," replied the old salt.

"There is no doubt of it," I added; and I felt as though I stood on the brink of despair.

"Grant it's true, what can we do about it?" continued Dick.

"Nothing," replied Jack.

"But it's piracy."

"Worse than piracy. I would rather be hung for murder than for stealing niggers."

"Can't we do something?" I inquired, anxiously.

"What can we do against a set of cutthroats like the mate?" growled Jack.

"We may do anything we can," added Dick. "It isn't a lawful voyage, and we can't be compelled to do duty. We shipped for Palermo, not to steal niggers."

I was glad to hear even two of my shipmates speak in this decided manner. They abhorred the slave trade, like true American sailors; and I hoped that more of the crew would be actuated by the same feelings of humanity.

"This business is piracy, and every man engaged in it is liable to be hanged," I added.

"But no one ever was hung," added Dick.

"So much the worse; they ought to have been," said Jack. "What can we do?"

"I'll tell you what we can do, to make a beginning. Let us ascertain first who are opposed to the business," I suggested.

"The Portuguese are in the scrape," replied Dick.

"And the Spaniards," said Jack.

"There are only five of them," I continued. "How is it with the second mate?"

"I don't know; but we will soon find out who the pirates are."

We separated to obtain the facts. At eight bells in the evening, when the port watch went on duty, we had canvassed the crew. There were twenty-five persons on board, of whom eighteen were men before the mast. The captain, two mates, the cook and cabin steward, and two passengers, formed the rest of the number. Only the five Spanish and Portuguese sailors among the crew were committed to the nefarious scheme. The captain, the chief mate, and the two passengers made nine who were actually engaged in the conspiracy. Of the remaining sixteen, eight, including the second mate, were opposed to a slave voyage on any terms, and would rather die than take part in the scheme. The other eight were in doubt, but most of them objected to the deception which had been practised upon them.

The bark went along on her course for a couple of days longer, during which time the conspiracy was constantly under discussion. Those of us who had decided views on the subject did our best to convince the doubtful ones of the peril and wickedness of the enterprise. We brought five of them to say that they would join us in a remonstrance to the officers.

"That's the talk; we will go to work peaceably," said Jack Sanderson.

"Now's our time," added Dick Baxter. "All hands are on deck, and we may as well form a line, and state the case. Who shall speak for us?"

"Jack Sanderson," I suggested.

"I'm no lawyer," replied the old salt, modestly.

"We don't need any lawyer. You are the oldest man, and will do the job best," I insisted.

"Agreed!" added several.

Without giving the spokesman time to consider his speech, we collected our forces, comprising twelve men, and walked aft as far as the mainmast, with old Jack at the head of the procession. The captain, the mate, and the two passengers were smoking their cigars on the quarter-deck; but their attention was immediately arrested by the appearance of the twelve seamen.

"What's the matter now?" demanded Waterford, stepping forward to the mainmast, where we had halted. "Do you want plum duff every day in the week?"

"No, sir; we don't find any fault with our grub," answered Jack, taking off his hat; and the rest of us followed his example, so as to be entirely respectful.

"What do you want, then?"

"I beg your pardon, sir; but we all shipped for Palermo, and up the Mediterranean; and we don't think we shall make that port on this tack."

"You are more than half right," added the mate, with an oath, as he glanced at the captain and the two passengers.

"If you please, sir, we would like to know where the bark is bound," continued Jack, scraping his foot upon the deck, as he made his most respectful bow.

"She is bound to put a lot of money in your pockets, my lads."

"Thank you, sir; but where shall we fetch up?"

"No matter about that, now. I'll tell you all about it in a few days," replied Waterford, more gently than I had heard him speak since I came on board. "If you want plum duff for dinner every day, you shall have it. Here, doctor!" he shouted to the cook. "Give all hands plum duff every day."

"Thank you, sir," Jack proceeded, with another scrape and bow. "Plum duff is good; but we would like to know where the bark is bound."

"Bound for a port where you will make more money than you ever saw before, my lads. By the way, boys, we are going to serve out grog in this bark three times a day after this, and we will begin now."

My heart sank within me, for I was afraid that the virtue of Sanderson and Baxter would not be proof against the seductions of rum. They were good men when sober; I knew that they were little better than demons when drunk.

"Don't let him buy you off with liquor and plum duff," I whispered, with my heart in my throat.

"We don't object to the grog, your honor; but we would like to know something more about the voyage," replied Jack, mildly.

"Steward!" shouted the mate.

"Here, sir," replied this official.

"Splice the main brace, all round. Give every man half a tumbler full, and let Sanderson have Phil's share; he belongs to the temperance society, and never splices the main brace," laughed the mate, as though he thought himself inexpressibly funny.

"Don't let him pull wool over your eyes, Jack," I whispered, turning my back to the mate.

"Thank your honor, kindly," continued Sanderson, whose heart seemed to be won by the rum.

"I know how to warm the heart of an old sailor," added Waterford, glancing at his companions on the quarter-deck.

"If you please, sir, some of the men think the bark is going a slaving," persisted Jack.

"Do they? What put that into their heads?"

"We all think we are bound down the coast of Africa."

"Well, don't you like the idea?" laughed the mate.

"No, sir; we do not," responded Jack, so decidedly that my courage rose a little.

"You don't? That's because you don't understand it."

"We think we understand the business well enough, sir."

"Don't you want to make five hundred or a thousand dollars out of a three months' cruise?"

"Not slaving, sir," answered Jack, with another scrape of his foot, and a low bow.

"Come, let's splice the main brace, and we will talk it over another time," said the mate, as the cabin steward appeared with a pitcher of rum.

"Here, Jack," said the mate, as he took the glass from the steward, and filled it two thirds full of the reddish poison.

"Not any for me, thank your honor," replied Jack, to my astonishment.

"What!" exclaimed the mate.

"None for me, sir."

"Don't you drink liquor?"

"Yes, sir; when I'm on shore I do; but I never was in the habit of drinking it on board ship."

The mate looked very ugly.

"Here, Baxter," he added, turning to the next man.

"None for me, sir."

I was amazed at the self-denial and firmness of these men. The others followed their example; not one of them would take the grog. They understood that it was a bribe—that it was used to induce them to comply with the new order of events. At that moment I felt that the Michigan would not bear a cargo of shackled human beings over the ocean, to be sold into bondage in Cuba or the Southern States. The grog was served out to the rest of the crew, who did not refuse it.

"I suppose we are to understand that the bark is bound down the coast of Africa, slaving," continued Jack, when the mate came aft again.

"You can understand what you please," growled Waterford, savagely; for his good humor had failed him with the defeat of his scheme to win over the men.

"We are sorry for it, your honor, because we shipped for Palermo."

"Go forward, every one of you!" roared the mate.

"If this isn't a lawful voyage, Mr. Waterford—"

"Do you hear me?"

"We do, sir. We shipped for a lawful voyage, and—"

"Do you mean to get up a mutiny? Go forward, and attend to your duty, or I'll put every mother's son of you in irons."

"If you say we are not going a slaving, we shall be satisfied."

"I won't say anything to you," said the mate, picking up a belaying-pin.

The two passengers went below; but they immediately appeared again with revolvers in their hands. Captain Farraday picked up a handspike, and placed himself by the mate. At the same time the five Spanish and Portuguese sailors came aft, each of them armed with a handspike or some other weapon. The affair began to look serious to us, who were provided with nothing to defend ourselves with.

"My men, this is mutiny," interposed Captain Farraday.

"We have a right to know whether this is a lawful voyage or not," said Baxter.

"You will obey your officers, whether the voyage is lawful or not," added the captain.

"I'm not going to parley with mutineers," said Waterford, sternly, as he moved forward towards us.

The two passengers cocked their pistols, and the five sailors who were in the plot closed in before us. We were unprepared for a fight, and we retreated in a body to the forecastle.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH PHIL SPEAKS FOR TRUTH AND JUSTICE, AND A SAIL IS DISCOVERED.

We had not gone aft to fight, only to talk; and we were not prepared for the violent demonstration which was made against us. We intended, after the fashion of sailors, to present our grievances, and have an understanding in regard to the future. The seamen of our party had refused to accept any liquor simply because it was offered to them as the price of yielding to the wicked scheme of the officers. This marvellous piece of self-denial on their part assured me that we should be successful in the end. I had more respect for the virtue of sailors than ever before; certainly more than when I first came on board of the bark, and saw every man of the present crew drunk and quarrelsome.

We were driven forward by the onslaught of the mate and his supporters, and we halted forward of the windlass only when we could go no farther. There was a plentiful supply of handspikes on the forecastle; but, as the mate halted before we were compelled to defend ourselves, no battle ensued.

"Now, my lads, I have you where I want you," said Waterford, casting a triumphant glance over our party.

"We haven't tried to make any trouble, and we were respectful," replied Sanderson.

"I want you to understand that I call this mutiny, and I shall treat it as such!" cried the mate, savagely. "I ordered you forward, and you didn't go, till you were driven."

"When the ship is not on a lawful voyage, there's no such thing as mutiny," said Baxter, boldly.

"I'll show you that there is," answered Waterford, shaking his weapon at the discontented ones. "If you want to have trouble, we'll give you enough of it."

"We don't want any trouble," added the more prudent Sanderson.

"All right, then; return to your duty. Obey your orders, and do your work, and there will be no trouble. If you don't do it, I'll skin you alive, every one of you!"

"We shipped for Palermo, sir; and, if we are not going there, we think we have a right to know where we are going."

"You shipped for any port to which the vessel might go," added the mate, doggedly.

"Will you tell us where we are bound, sir?"

"No; I will not be driven to tell you anything. In due time, if you behave yourselves, I'll tell you all about it."

"Will you tell us whether we are engaged in a lawful voyage?"

"I tell you that every man who behaves himself shall have a thousand dollars when the cruise is up, and have his grog three times a day, and plum duff every day."

"That is just the same as saying that it is not a lawful voyage," I added, in a low tone, to Sanderson.

"That's so, my hearty."

"Come out here, Phil Farringford!" shouted the mate. "You have made all this trouble."

"No, he didn't, sir," replied Jack Sanderson. "One's as black as another."

"Come out here, Phil! I'll teach you to get up a mutiny among the men."

The mate made a demonstration forward, as though he intended to drag me out from the midst of my companions. Probably he had seen, and perhaps heard, my communications with the spokesman, and his wrath against me was fanned into a blaze.

"Don't you go, Phil; we will stand by you," said Baxter.

The Crew stand by Phil.

"You will?" roared the mate.

"We are all in the same boat, sir."

"You would all have done very well, if his cant hadn't spoiled you. I know him, and I'll put him in irons. Shove him out here and I will pass over what you have done."

"No, sir; we won't give him up," answered Sanderson, decidedly.

"Then you will take the consequences."

"We are willing, sir."

The mate rolled up his sleeves, and glanced at his supporters, as though he intended to make an assault upon the refractory crew; but at this moment the captain and the two passengers spoke to him, and they went aft together.

"We are in for it now, my lads," said old Jack Sanderson.

"We might as well be hung for a bull as a calf," added Baxter.

"If I'm the calf, I don't want you to get into trouble on my account," I added.

"Phil's a good fellow, and we'll stand by him," replied Baxter.

"Ay, ay! stand by him," said half a dozen others.

"I say I don't want you to get yourselves into trouble for my sake; but I would rather be hanged for mutiny than be hanged for being concerned in the slave trade. It's piracy, you know, and there is no law that can compel you to do duty in a vessel engaged in an illegal voyage."

"That's so; Phil's a sea lawyer," said Walker.

"We won't let him have Phil," echoed Baxter, "or any other man. We'll stick together, and go down together, if we can't get out of the scrape."

"But what can we do?" asked one of the more timid of the men.

"We can only refuse to do duty, and take the consequences."

"I, for one, don't propose to take the consequences," I ventured to say; for, though I had not said much thus far, I was decidedly in favor of an aggressive policy.

"What do you think we ought to do?" demanded Baxter.

"Take the bark!" I replied emphatically, when I had satisfied myself that no one was within hearing except our own party.

"That's just my idea," responded Baxter, bringing his fist down upon the windlass to prove that he was in earnest. "I don't know what there is in the hold, but I'll bet there is everything used in the slave trade—the rice, the water, and the irons. If we should be overhauled by a British or an American vessel, we should be captured, and sent into an English or a United States port. If we are not hung, we shall lose our wages, and be sent to prison."

"That's it!" exclaimed Sanderson.

"Our papers show that we are bound for Palermo, and they would condemn us, if the stuff in the hold didn't. I'll never help carry a nigger across the ocean, if I can help it, and I'll fight an honest fight, too, to keep from doing it. I don't believe in fastening the door with a biled parsnip."

Baxter was earnest and eloquent, and I honored him for his noble and humane sentiments. His speech stiffened the backs of those who were wavering. Twelve of us were of one mind, and we were sure that York, the second mate, was with us, which made a majority. Three of the crew still remained doubtful, ready to go with whichever proved to be the winning side. Their very position showed them to be weak, and of not much value to either party.

"We are all of one mind," said Sanderson; "but what can we do? It isn't an easy thing to stand up against the officers, who are provided with fire-arms."

"Never mind their fire-arms. Truth and justice are on our side, and they will do us more good than all the guns and pistols that were ever invented."

"That's all very pretty, but it don't always work so."

"We'll make it work so this time," said Baxter, stoutly. "It's no use to refuse to do duty, and make a milk-and-water mess of it. When we do something, we'll strike a blow that shall be felt."

"How are you going to do it?" asked Bilger, who was one of the timid ones.

"We haven't decided that question yet; but where there's a will there's a way. In the first place, we must stick together," replied Baxter. "We will make a plan, and then we will put it through."

"Suppose we take the vessel; what can we do with it? We haven't a navigator among us," suggested Walker.

"I can take an observation, and work up the reckoning," I replied.

"You!" exclaimed the doubter.

"I can. I have studied navigation, and I can lay down the position of the bark on the chart every day that the sun shines."

"Good! York is a good sailor. In fact we have all the able and ordinary seamen with us but the five Spaniards and Portuguese," said Baxter.

"But how shall we take the bark?"

"We'll watch our time, and strike when it comes. You have done some fighting in your day, Phil; what do you say?"

"I never did any fighting on board of a ship, though I know something about Indian strategy."

"It's all the same. How shall we go to work to make a sure thing of it?"

"I haven't looked the matter over yet, but I have an idea. In the first place, we must organize."

"How organize?"

"We must have a leader, and all hands must obey his orders."

"That ought to be the second mate," suggested Sanderson.

"He has not taken part with us yet."

"But he has said he would when it was proved that the bark was going a slaving," replied Baxter.

"All right," I added. "We must wait till night, if possible."

"There may be a row before night. The captain, mate, and the two passengers are talking the matter over on the quarter-deck," said Walker.

"Who's at the helm?"

"Schneider."

"He's one of the doubtful ones, and won't meddle as long as the thing is undecided. The second mate has the first watch to-night," I continued.

"Ay, ay," answered Baxter, deeply interested in my suggestion.

"At that time, the captain, mate, and the two passengers will be in their state-rooms. I believe in taking them there."

"But we have Gorro and Martino in the starboard watch. What shall we do with them?"

"We'll fix them," I replied. "Two of our stoutest hands must take care of them. I'm not much more than a boy, but I can handle one of them."

"Plucky!" said Baxter.

"Two more must take care of the three in the forecastle. We can fasten the door on them when we have got our own men out."

"Good! That will all work well," added Baxter.

"Who has the first trick at the wheel in our watch?" I asked.

"Martino," replied Sanderson.

"Then we must muzzle Gorro forward. Each man must have his own job to do. Six men shall take off the forward hatch, and passing through the between-decks, make their way to the cabin through the steerage."

"Why not go down the cabin stairs?" asked Sanderson.

"Because Martino, at the helm, would give the alarm."

"I like the plan, Phil. We will go over it again, and give each man his part of the work."

"Sail ho!" shouted Sylvio, one of the Spanish sailors, who was in the waist.

The mate sprang into the weather mizzen rigging to examine the sail, and in a few moments we all discovered a streak of black smoke on the sky, which indicated a steamer.

CHAPTER XV.

IN WHICH PHIL IS ASSIGNED TO AN IMPORTANT POSITION BY HIS SHIPMATES.

The streak of smoke was on our weather bow, the wind being from the north-east. The fact that the sail was a steamer rendered it almost certain that she was a man-of-war; one of the cruisers on the coast of Africa, on the lookout for slavers. If all hands had not been busy attending to the exciting scenes on board, we might have sooner discovered the sail.

"That's in our favor," said Dick Baxter, as soon as the steamer was made out.

"I don't know about that," replied Jack Sanderson. "If we had taken possession of the bark it would be in our favor. I don't like the idea of being taken just yet, for the man-of-war won't be able to tell who's guilty and who's innocent."

"The steamer will put an end to this cruise, at any rate," I added.

"I'm not so sure of that. The Michigan is a very fast sailer, and I suppose that's the strongest reason why she happens to be in this business. She's more'n a match for some of those old drogers of steamers in the navy," continued Baxter. "She has logged more'n fourteen knots on this cruise; and as the wind is to-day, she's good for twelve, when she gets it on the quarter. That's a British steamer."

"What makes you think so?" I asked.

"Her black smoke. The English men-of-war use that kind of coal which makes smoke as black as ink, and the American men-of-war don't make any smoke."

"All hands on deck!" shouted the mate. "Stand by tacks and braces!"

"How's that? Shall we go to work?" said Baxter.

"Yes; let us wait for a proper time to carry out our plans," I replied.

All hands sprang to their stations, as though nothing had happened.

"Starboard the helm!" continued the mate, taking his order from the captain, who appeared to be too drunk to handle the bark.

The order was given to ease off on the lee braces, and haul on the weather.

"Steady as she is! Avast hauling! A small pull on the weather main-topsail brace! That will do! A little more spanker-sheet. Belay, all!"

The bark was then headed about south-south-west, with the wind on the port quarter, which Baxter had declared to be her best point in sailing.

"The mate knows what that steamer is," said Sanderson, as we gathered together again on the forecastle.

"That he does; he knows what black smoke means," responded Baxter.

"Sartinly; he wouldn't run away from her, if he wasn't afraid of her. That's what one puppy does when he's afraid of another."

"I don't want any more proof that this is an unlawful voyage."

"Even this was not needed," I added. "Can you see how the steamer is headed?"

"No; you can hardly make her out at all. Her black smoke is about all there is of her yet," answered Baxter. "But she will see us before long, if she has not already. You may be sure that she will give chase, for those men-of-war don't sail with their eyes shut."

"Are we alone now?" I asked, looking over the men to see that none who did not belong to our party were present.

"Ay, ay, lad; we are all by ourselves," answered Baxter.

"Let us divide the work for to-night, then."

"The sooner the better."

"Six men must go into the cabin through the between-decks," I continued. "Who shall they be?"

"You shall be one of them, Phil," said Baxter.

"Very well; I am willing. Sanderson shall be another."

"I'm agreed," responded the old salt.

"And Baxter shall look out for Martino at the helm. Walker shall lie down upon Gorro, and Bilger shall see that only our own men come out of the forecastle."

"Good, Phil!" exclaimed Baxter. "But what shall we do with York?"

"He must not commit himself till we have made a sure thing of the job. Don't say a word to him; but he will not interfere," answered Sanderson.

We stationed every man according to his ability for the great enterprise, and I felt almost sure that it would be a success, if the man-of-war did not overhaul us before we had time to put it in operation. While we were thus engaged, the mate and the passengers were busy watching the movements of the steamer with a glass. They did not look forward to see what the crew were doing. The Spanish and Portuguese sailors did not come near us. They had already committed themselves on the side of the officers, and knew that their shipmates had no good will towards them on this account. They were in the waist, and seemed to be as busy as we were in discussing the exciting affair which had occurred. I afterwards learned that they had been engaged before in the slave trade, and had been shipped by the Spanish passengers as willing agents in the inhuman business.

I do not know what the mate had discovered in regard to the steamer; but he ordered the studding-sails, alow and aloft, to be set forward. The wind was fresh, and under this additional canvas the bark flew through the water. The log was thrown; and Baxter, who had charge of the operation, informed us that the Michigan was making thirteen knots. I admired the vessel, and thought it a shame and a pity that such a noble craft should be used in such a horrid trade. She had been built to run up the Mediterranean as a fruiter, and it was desirable that she should make quick passages. Some of her carrying capacity had been sacrificed on this account; but she could still carry negroes enough to make her voyage a very profitable investment.

After we had set the studding-sails forward, our party again discussed the details of our plan for the evening. The part of each man, and each gang of men, was carefully considered. To each party a leader was appointed, who was to be held responsible for the share of the work assigned to him, and whom the others were to obey without a question. I had the honor to be selected as the leader of the largest gang, who were to do the job in the cabin. The fact that I had been engaged in an Indian campaign seemed to give me a great deal of credit for the service which we were to perform, and my name was suggested for the important place by Jack Sanderson, who was to be one of my party.

I found myself very popular with the crew; first, I suppose, because I had been persecuted by the mate,—which was his fault, and not my merit,—and second, because I had always tried to be kind and obliging to my shipmates. I had read to them from the Bible every Sunday, and always found them glad to hear the blessed word. I had watched with those who were sick, and helped them whenever I had an opportunity to do so. I told them all about the wilds of the Upper Missouri, and related the story of the campaign with the Indians. I had given them the history of Waterford in Chicago, so far as I knew it. I had no intention of making myself popular with the men; probably, if I had, I should have failed. I only wished to act the part of a Christian towards them; and, for carrying out this simple and sincere desire, I obtained a great deal more credit than I deserved.

Rude and rough as these men were, depraved even as a few of them had become by the agency of that fiend which is the sailor's direst curse, Rum, they were still men, and some of them had received a fair education. Some of them were blessed with inquiring minds, and many an hour of the silent watches of the night, as the bark ploughed her way over the ocean, our discussions were upon moral, religious, and scientific subjects. Though I was but eighteen, my studies gave me a great advantage over my companions, and I found myself consulted upon questions in which the men were interested. I can only say, that whatever measure of regard and respect I won from my shipmates was merited only by an earnest and sincere desire to serve and benefit them.

Everything went along quietly on deck. The captain had disappeared. Doubtless the excitement of the day had caused him to drink deeper than usual, and I suppose he was asleep in his state-room. Waterford was the real captain of the bark, though Farraday sometimes acted as such. The mate must have been sadly disturbed by the incipient mutiny which had appeared; but he took no further steps to strengthen his position. He kept his eye on the streak of black smoke over the lee quarter. Perhaps he felt that, as there was no actual demonstration of mutiny on the part of the crew, he could better afford to wait for the indications of the future than the crew could. Certainly everything on board went along as usual, except that the Spanish and Portuguese sailors separated themselves from their shipmates, unless required, in the discharge of their duty, to mingle with them.

Feeling that a great event was likely to occur within the next twenty-four hours, I could not help considering the safety of my money, for I hoped, by some means or other, that I should be able to reach Europe, and find my mother. I looked all about the deck for a better hiding-place for my treasure. While I was thinking of the matter, I was ordered, with others, to get up a barrel of beef from the hold. I was sure that I could find a safe place below for my gold; and, passing into the forecastle, I put the bag into my pocket. After we had hoisted up the barrel, I went aft to the temporary steerage which had been built for this voyage. I noticed the position of the door, and satisfied myself that it was not fastened; but I found no good place for my money.

While the men were closing the hatch in the lower deck, I went forward to the bow, where there was a pile of fire-wood. I climbed over it, and found a crevice between the stem and the planking of the deck, into which I jammed the bag. I was sure the mate would not find it there; and, having disposed of my treasure, I hastened to join my shipmates who were men of our party. They understood that I was surveying the ground for the movement that night, and covered my operations so that I was not noticed by any person on the other side.

I felt easier after I had put my money in what I regarded as a safe place. I did not expect to leave the vessel before we had captured her; but, even if we failed, I could, with the assistance of my friends, take off the fore scuttle, and recover the bag. I felt full of confidence that we should succeed in our plan, and that, before eight bells in the morning watch, the bark would be headed to the north. We actually ran away from the steamer, if she discovered us at all. The mate made no more trouble, and everything went along quietly till the first dog watch, in which I had my trick at the wheel.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER IN THE STEERAGE.

Waterford certainly looked as ugly as ever, if he did not act so. He planked the deck on the weather side, and occasionally glanced at me, as though I was the cause of all the misfortunes that had checkered the calendar of his existence. My party were all forward, as there was nothing to do; for the mate, besides promising the men plum duff and grog, had also given them "watch and watch." Before, he had labored hard to make work for the men; now, he gave them an easy time, and one watch was to be permitted to be below all the time, except when heavy weather required all hands.

The five Spanish and Portuguese sailors were leaning against the fiferail of the mainmast. They had drank their grog, and being in high favor with the mate, were very cheerful. I paid little or no attention to them, for I was obliged to keep my eye steadily on the binnacle. I saw Waterford stop at the foot of the mainmast, and talk with these slave-trading ruffians; but he soon resumed his walk, and took no further notice of them.

The mate, as he came near the wheel, half an hour later, halted, and looked at the spanker.

"Aft here, three of you, and give a pull on the spanker-sheet," said he.

Martino, Gorro, and Grego hastened upon the quarter-deck to obey the order. They cast off the sheet, and gave it a pull.

"Avast—too much," interposed the mate. "Ease off again."

"Ease off," replied Martino; and I observed that they let out the sheet till the sail was in exactly the same position as before.

"Avast; belay!" added the mate. "Take the helm, Gorro."

I looked up with astonishment when I heard this order, for it involved a departure from the ordinary routine of the vessel. The Portuguese took the helm; and while I was waiting for further commands, a pair of hands were placed over my mouth, and I was suddenly and violently borne down upon the deck. In a word, I was garroted after the Spanish fashion. Grego seized me by the legs, and I was unable either to struggle or to cry out. The two men picked me up, and hastened into the cabin with me. Waterford walked forward as far as the mainmast, and that was the last I saw of him. It was evident that none of my shipmates forward had seen the trick played upon me, for they were all behind the house on deck.

My captors bore me to the steerage, where they tied me hand and foot, and made me fast to a stanchion. I began to understand why the mate had been so quiet and peaceful since the row on deck. He had concluded to fight his enemies in detail, instead of in the aggregate. I was helpless now, and my companions in the forecastle did not even know that any misfortune had happened to me. But I was sure they would miss me when the helm was relieved, and I was more afraid that they would go to work rashly than that they would do nothing.

Phil a Prisoner in the Steerage.

"You'll hold still now, Phil," said Martino.

"I suppose I shall as long as these ropes hold out," I replied.

"You made the trouble, and now you will have to take it. If the men don't want to obey orders now, they will catch pistol balls, instead of plum duff and grog."

"What does the mate mean to do with me?" I asked.

"He means to make you work when we get the niggers on board. You will have to feed them, and clean them out," laughed the Spaniard.

"Come; he is safe where he is now," added Grego.

My persecutors left me alone, and went on deck to report to the mate what they had done. They had certainly done their work well, for my wrists ached, the line was so tight upon them. My situation looked very hopeless; and, after I had tested the strength of the cords that bound me, I felt very much like giving up in despair. But, in the cause of truth and justice, I felt that I had no right to despair. I was one of those upon whom devolved the duty of preventing the Michigan from being turned into a slave ship. We were to act not alone for our own safety and comfort, but in the interests of humanity. God would bless our efforts in his own way, and we were in duty bound to do our best, without regard to consequences.

Though I did not know till afterwards, what followed on deck, I shall relate it now, in the order of the events. Martino and Grego returned to the waist, and reported to the mate that the prisoner was safe. Martino then went forward, and told the men what had happened to me. They had no suspicion of it before, so skilfully and silently had the ruffians done their work. They were shocked and confounded. They immediately took counsel among themselves; and at the suggestion of Baxter, they decided to appear to yield to the circumstances.

While the conference was in progress, the steward went forward with the grog. This time they drank, and Sanderson took my allowance. Every man seemed to be happy and cheerful; and the mate called all hands to brace up the bark; for, as the steamer had not been seen for several hours, it was decided to resume the course. The mate then spoke to the hands, as he had in the forenoon, and they yielded the point. They were willing to make a thousand dollars, and glad to have "watch and watch," plum duff, and grog. The mate was satisfied; and, when the starboard watch came on duty in the second dog watch, he went below. I knew the sound of his step, and I heard him coming towards the steerage.

"Mr. Waterford," said the captain, calling to him from his state-room, which was near the open door leading into the steerage.

"Well, captain," replied the mate.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing now; the men have taken their grog, and promised to do their duty wherever we go."

This was heavy news to me, for I had no reason to doubt the truth of it. If the men drank their grog, I was satisfied in my own mind that they had given up the battle. If they drank liquor they could be won over to almost anything, for the mate could give them enough to make demons of them.

"How are you, Phil?" said Waterford, in a mocking tone, as he entered the steerage.

"As well as usual, excepting these bonds," I replied.

"I have you now where I want you, and I have come down to tell you the news."

"I heard you tell it to the captain just now. It is not necessary to repeat it."

"All right if you know which way the wind blows. You have been the cause of all the mischief on board."

"I am sorry you took so much pains to keep me on board then."

"I have my reasons for all I do. I would rather have six devils than one psalm-singer in my crew. As soon as the men knew you were safe, they caved in, drank their grog like sailors, and now they are willing to do their duty."

"Willing to help you run a cargo of slaves over to Cuba," I repeated.

"Yes; that's just what they are willing to do; and you will be of the same mind before I have done with you."

"I hope not; though I don't know how much I am able to bear."

"Nor I; neither do I care. You shall have enough of it before you are done. But I did not come here to pass compliments with you."

"I did not suspect you of any such intention."

"I'm glad you know me," he continued, seating himself on the steward's berth. "I'm not an angel."

"You needn't have said that."

"Nor are you."

"I am not."

"But when a man uses me well, I am his friend."

"I pity your friend."

"None of your impudence, Phil. It's my next move."

"You said we were not to pass compliments."

"Have a care what you say. I'm not an angel; I'm not a psalm-singer; and I don't pretend to be what I am not."

"You serve the devil, and are proud of your master," I replied, wishing to prove that I was not ashamed of what I had done, nor sorry for it.

"There is no cant about me. You are a thief and a liar, in spite of your cant."

"You are coming to the compliments, after all. Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you."

"All men don't speak well of you. I say you are a thief and liar."

"I appreciate the compliment."

"You stole my money, and then lied to me about it."

"I have nothing to say."

"You will have something to say before I am done with you," he added, with a fierce oath, as he sprang to his feet. "You robbed my trunk, and took fifteen hundred dollars in gold from it. Do you know how to speak the truth?"

"I have always succeeded tolerably well in doing so."

"What did you do with the money you took from my trunk?"

"I should feel obliged to speak the truth if I said anything."

"You had better do it. I know that the money I lost was in my trunk when I left my state-room, the day I put you in there."

"I had a similar confidence in regard to my own trunk on a certain occasion," I answered.

"I'm not to be trifled with. I'll give you till to-morrow morning to make up your mind. If you don't tell me then what you did with that money, I'll give you the rope's end every hour till you are willing to answer me."

"I will think of it."

"If you have thrown it overboard, I will throw you over after it."

"What makes you think I threw it overboard?"

"Because I found that the bull's eye in my state-room had been opened."

"Did you lose all the money in your trunk?"

"No; you know I didn't."

"You ought to be thankful that I did not take what did not belong to me. I should have done so if I had suspected to what use that money was to be applied."

"No cant to me!"

"Perhaps you will be willing to own that you stole the money I took from your trunk out of mine."

"I am; I do own it; and in due time it will buy fifteen or twenty niggers, and pay me five hundred per cent."

"Never, if I can help it!"

"You can't help it. I don't believe you were fool enough to throw the money overboard; and you will be glad to tell me where it is within twenty-four hours."

I could not say that I should not; for, between fifteen hundred dollars and being beaten to death, I should certainly choose to give up the former.

"I suppose the money you obtained by forgery in St. Louis will be used in buying negroes."

"Humph, Phil! You grow wise."

"A simple matter; my father wrote me that you were suspected."

"Did he, indeed?"

"He seemed to be interested, and I told him all I knew about it."

"If you are ready to tell me now where the money is, I can give you an easier position for the night, Phil," said he, in gentler tones.

"I am not ready," I replied.

"Think well of it, for I shall do all I say I will," said he, leaving the steerage.

I did not doubt it.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CABIN STEWARD.

I was alone again. I felt that we had lost our case. The men had given up the battle, drank their grog, and, under the influence of liquor, would be as willing to trade in human beings as to perform their ordinary duty. I could do nothing single-handed, and I might as well give up before I had suffered the tortures of the mate's wrath as afterwards. I would yield no principle, I would take no part in handling the vessel, but I would tell the mate where my gold was. I actually shuddered when I thought of having the money which I had earned by my labor applied to the purchase of human beings; but I did not see how I could help myself, for after I had been beaten and abused, my money was still likely to be found when the between-decks was prepared for the reception of the miserable wretches whose flesh and blood were to enrich Waterford and his infamous companions.

I looked around the steerage. It was fitted up with eight berths, but at present it was occupied only by the cabin steward, whose sympathies were with our party, though he had not yet committed himself. I afterwards learned the use to which this steerage was to be applied. As only a few of the crew could safely be informed of the nature of the unlawful voyage before they were shipped, of course not all of them could be expected to engage in the dangerous business without compulsion, and they were liable, as in the present instance, to ship a majority who would rather fight than incur the peril of being hanged or imprisoned for being concerned in it. But the officers were sure of five men,—the Spanish and Portuguese sailors,—for they had signed the shipping articles with their eyes wide open. Indeed, they had been employed to put down a mutiny, as well as to work the bark. It was not desirable to separate the crew; but, when it became necessary, those in the interests of the officers, or a sufficient number of them to enable the captain and mate to enforce their authority, were to be berthed in the steerage, where they could at all times be within hail of their superiors.

This plan is often, if not always, adopted in whalemen, where boat-steerers are regarded as officers, and are berthed in the steerage, in order to be used in subduing the crew in the event of any insubordination. I glanced about the place, and I found that it was also used as the armory. When I first came on board, I had seen no arms; but now there were four muskets, several pistols, and half a dozen cutlasses hung upon the bulkhead. Probably they had been brought out from their hiding-places since the disturbance with the crew. I wondered that the Spanish and Portuguese sailors were not already installed in their quarters; but I supposed the mate wished to have them mingle with the other hands forward as long as possible, so as to take note of any disaffection, and report it to him.

While I was looking about me, the cabin steward came into the steerage with my supper. His name was Palmer, and he was an American. He had a very light and fair complexion; and, though I had not seen much of him on board, I judged that he was a little inclined to be a dandy. He was about twenty-five years of age, and was certainly a very good-looking fellow—which he evidently believed himself.

"I am sorry for you, Phil," said he, as he placed his dishes in one of the berths.

"Are you really so?" I asked.

"I am, indeed; and if I dared to do so, I would let you go at once."

"You haven't the courage to do that, then?"

"The mate would murder me if I did."

"Then it does not make much difference how sorry you are for me," I added, rather despondent.

"I only wished to express my sympathy for you, and to say that, if I could, I would let you loose."

"I suppose you know what kind of a voyage this bark is bound upon?"

"I do; the mate told me yesterday, and I have heard enough said in the cabin before to make me understand all about it," answered the steward.

"Do you like the business?"

"No, I don't; but what can I do?"

"I don't know that you can do anything."

"If I had known what the voyage was to be, I would have hung myself rather than come on board. I have a little African blood in my veins, though I don't say much about it generally."

"Whether you have African blood in your veins or not, you must dislike a voyage like this. What did the mate say to you?"

"He told me I might loose one of your hands to let you eat your supper, but he would shoot me if I let you escape from the steerage," said he, unfastening the cord which bound my right arm to the stanchion.

"Can't you ease off the other just a little? The cord hurts my wrist very much."

"I'll do that."

He loosed the line, and thus to some extent relieved the pain I felt. He handed me some tea, bread and meat, of which I ate while we were talking.

"Where is the mate now?" I inquired.

"On deck."

"And the captain?"

"Drunk in his state-room. He came out to supper, but he did not eat anything; only drank two half tumblers of whiskey, and then turned in. I think the mate wishes to keep him drunk as much as possible, so that he won't meddle with the affairs of the vessel," replied the steward, in a whisper.

"Where are the two passengers?"

"They are on the deck with the mate."

"Do you know who they are?"

"I only know that they are Spaniards or Cubans. From what I hear them say, I judge that they and the mate find the money to buy the negroes, while the vessel and the captain have a share of the profits."

"Have they the money on board?"

"I don't know anything about it from what they say; but of course they have."

"You say the mate told you about the voyage yesterday. What did he say?"

"He didn't say much; and I think he spoke of it because I couldn't help hearing what was said in the cabin. He only told me to do my duty, and I should make a thousand dollars out of the cruise."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I should do my duty. I was afraid of him, and I let him believe that I didn't care whether the bark went a slaving or not. I have always kept on the right side of him, but I hate him worse than I hate the evil one. If I hadn't a mother on shore to take care of, I'd sink the ship, and go down in her, rather than have anything to do with slaving."

"Are you a spy, sent here by the mate to sound me?" I added, suddenly, looking him in the face very earnestly.

"That's too bad, Phil!" said he, springing to his feet. "I only pity you because you stood out against the mate, and against slaving."

"You say you have kept on the right side of the mate?"

"I have, for my own comfort and safety. My mother was a slave—but no matter about that," he added; and before I knew what he was about, he had unloosed my left hand.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"If you think I am a spy, I will prove to you that I am not. I will set you free, though it costs me my life."

"Don't do it, Palmer. Pardon me for what I said. You need not wonder that I am suspicious in a vessel like this."

"I don't wonder; but you shall not suspect me, if I can do anything to prevent it."

"I do not suspect you any longer. I am satisfied that you are a good fellow, and true at heart. But put the cords on as you found them; I will not get you into trouble, whatever happens to me."

"No, you shall be free. Perhaps you can bring the men up to the scratch again, for they have all backed down. They drank their grog when I gave it to them this afternoon."

"If you are really my friend,—and I know you are now,—you can serve me better than by loosing my bonds at this moment."

"I will do just what you tell me to do," replied the steward.

"I have full confidence in you. Tie my hands up just as you found them, only not quite so tight."

He followed my directions; and, as I had finished my supper, he made fast my right arm to the stanchion. I had my doubts about trusting this man with the secret of the crew; but, since our party had given in their adherence to the mate, and the plan had been practically abandoned, so far as I knew, I did not feel that I need distrust him.

"Palmer, where do you sleep?" I asked.

"Here," he replied, pointing to his berth.

"What time do you turn in?"

"Any time when I can; sometimes at eight bells, sometimes at two."

"What time do the mate and the passengers turn in?"

"Mr. Waterford always turns in at eight when he has the mid-watch. The Spaniards sometimes sit up till eleven, but generally turn in by ten. Why do you ask, Phil?"

"If you really wish to serve me, Palmer, you can do so."

"I'll do anything you tell me, even if it costs me my life; for I would rather die than be in a slave ship. My mother—no matter about that. She was a slave once, and I never will help any man or woman into slavery if I can avoid it."

"All right, Palmer. You may be able to save the bark from this miserable business. But I will not say anything more now."

"What shall I do?" asked the steward, not a little excited.

"Don't turn in till all is quiet in the cabin. The second mate has the first watch to-night. Give the captain all the whiskey he wants, and when the mate and passengers have turned in, and you think they are asleep, then come into the steerage and let me know."

"I will do all just as you say."

"Don't bring any lights, and don't act as though anything had happened. Go now."

"You may depend upon me, Phil. I meant to take sides with your men as soon as I dared to do so."

"Hold on a minute, Palmer. Are there any guns or pistols in the cabin?"

"The Spaniards have revolvers in their state-rooms, and they loaded them this forenoon, when the row on deck took place."

"We don't want to kill any one, or have any one killed. If you could draw the charges from their revolvers, and bring their ammunition in here, you might help matters."

"What do you mean to do, Phil?" asked the steward, opening his eyes very wide.

"We haven't time to talk about it now; but if there is any back-bone left in the men, we will have the bark before morning," I whispered in his ear.

"I'll do all I can."

"Where are the powder and ball for these guns and pistols?" I asked.

"Here, in that box in the corner."

"All right."

The cabin steward left the steerage, and I felt that I had an ally whose aid made success hopeful, if not certain. I was excited by the prospect. I intended, as soon as all was quiet in the cabin, to make my way to the forecastle through the between-decks, and stir up the men to carry out the project we had arranged. Right and justice, as well as self-preservation, demanded action.

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN WHICH PHIL AND OTHERS VISIT THE CABIN OF THE BARK.

I did not believe it would require a great deal of eloquence to bring our party back to a sense of their duty, and I waited impatiently for the time of action. The steerage grew dark, and presently the mate, with a lantern in his hand, appeared. He looked over the cords by which I was made fast to the stanchion, to satisfy himself that the steward had left me secure for the night.

"You are all right, Phil; but I don't think you will sleep very well here," said he.

"I don't expect to sleep."

"Have you anything to say yet?"

"No, sir; not yet."

"I always took you for a sensible fellow; but I see I was mistaken."

"We are all liable to mistakes," I replied, feeling the necessity of saying something.

"You can sleep in one of those berths, if you prefer."

"I do prefer it."

"Then tell me where the money is, and I will let you loose."

"The money belongs to me."

"I don't wish to argue the matter. If you want to sleep in a berth, you can do so by telling me where the money is."

"I think you ought to let me have my own money, Mr. Waterford. I worked hard—"

"No cant. I see you are not ready to tell yet. If you get tired of your situation before morning, you can call the steward, who sleeps here, and he will let me know. I have the mid-watch, and I'm going to turn in now. It's no use to waste time talking with you."

I did not wish him to waste any time in this profitless manner; so I said nothing, and he left me to my hard fate. Since Palmer had loosed my bonds I was tolerably comfortable, though the pitching of the bark occasionally threw the strain of the ropes upon my arms. I heard no more from the mate, and I supposed he had turned in; but the steward did not come as soon as I expected. I heard two bells on deck, which indicated nine o'clock; but I concluded that the Spaniards in the cabin had not yet turned in.

The steerage was pitch dark, and I could not see a thing; but soon after I heard two bells, there was a sound not more than a mouse might have made in his nocturnal perambulations in search of cheese. I listened attentively, and was soon conscious that some one was in the steerage with me.

"Phil," said a whispered voice, when I began to be not a little excited over the circumstance.

"Who's there?" I replied, in a tone as low and guarded, for I was willing to believe that the visitor was a friend until he had proved himself to be a foe.

"Where are you?"

"Here."

I listened and heard the suppressed breathings of the person; and presently I felt his hand laid upon me. I had a further opportunity to exercise my senses, for I could smell rum very distinctly.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Don't you know me? I'm Jack Sanderson," replied the visitor. "We want you on deck."

"I thought you had all caved in."

"Not a bit of it, Phil. We are all as true as the compass."

"You have been drinking."

"Only a nip or two each; but we are all right. We pretended to cave in, but we didn't, Phil. Now let me cut your ropes."

"No; not yet, Jack. You will spoil everything if you move too soon."

"What do you mean? Have you caved in, Phil?"

"No; but I have a friend in the cabin."

"Who?"

"Palmer, the steward."

"Good!"

"As soon as all hands in the cabin have turned in, he will loose me, and then we shall be ready for you. Are the men all right?"

"Every one of them."

"Now leave me, Jack. If you like, you can stay between decks till the steward comes, and then I will join you."

"All right, Phil."

Sanderson left me, and I was now thoroughly satisfied that the scheme would be a success; I did not see how it could fail. The mate evidently depended too much upon the instinctive subordination of sailors, and appeared to have taken no special precautions for the safety of the bark and his wicked project. The men had promised to do their duty, which he interpreted as one thing and they as another. The drinking of their grog was doubtless enough to convince him that the crew were converted to his scheme.

I heard three bells, and then four; but Palmer did not come, and I began to question whether I had not made a mistake in trusting him as far as I had. I was sorry that I had not permitted Sanderson to unfasten me, for then I might have availed myself of any chance that offered if the steward was faithless. But I wronged him again. Before five bells, he came with a lantern in one hand, and a couple of revolvers in the other. He carefully closed the door behind him as he entered, and laid the pistols in his berth.

"I was afraid you were not coming," I whispered; "but you are as true as steel."

"I am, Phil. You needn't have any doubts of me. The passengers didn't turn in till ten o'clock. They have been drinking and playing cards."

"Are they asleep?"

"I reckon they are; they snore, at any rate. They were both tight, and only quit their game when the liquor had made them so sleepy they didn't know a jack from an ace."

"How's the captain?"

"Drunk as an owl. I gave him a whole tumblerful of whiskey at two bells, and he won't know anything till morning."

"How is it on deck?"

"The second mate is on the watch, of course. It is almost calm, and Waterford was afraid of that steamer we saw to-day. I heard him tell the second mate to keep two men on the cross-trees, with an eye to windward. He made him send Gorro and Martino up, for he wouldn't trust any other men in the watch."

"Good! That will save us the trouble of knocking them on the head, which we don't want to do," I replied, as Palmer untied the cords which fastened me to the stanchion.

In a moment more I was free, and the steward handed me one of the revolvers.

"Take this; you may want it," said he. "It isn't worth while to be too nice in a scrape of this kind. The mate or those Spaniards would murder any of us, if it was necessary, as easy as they would turn a hand."

"I shall use it if the case requires; but I hope it will not be necessary to shoot any one. Sanderson has been down to see me."

"No!"

"Yes, he has. The men are as true as we could wish. But we won't waste any time," I added, moving towards the door which led into the between-decks. "Sanderson is close by, I suppose."

"But what am I to do?"

"Go with us into the cabin. We shall secure the mate first. Take those lines with you, for we must tie him hand and foot."

"Do you know how the second mate stands?"

"He's all right, though he don't say much, being an officer. Baxter will take care of him. While Martino and Gorro stay aloft, there will be nothing to do on deck. Now wait here till we come."

I took his lantern, and went between decks, where I found Sanderson as impatient as though he had been waiting for his grog.

"I was afraid something had happened," said he, in tremulous accents.

"No; everything is as well as it could be; better than I anticipated. Everybody in the cabin except the mate is drunk, and the steward says Gorro and Martino are on the cross-trees."

"That's so."

"How are the men?"

"All right. I went out to the forecastle, and told them how it was with you; but I thought you would never come."

"The Spaniards in the cabin did not turn in till four bells. But heave ahead now; bring down the men who are to act with us."

"Ay, ay!"

"Tell Baxter he need do nothing on deck until we come up from the cabin. Do you know who is at the helm?"

"Welsh; we put him there when Martino was sent aloft on the lookout."

"He will know what we are about."

"But you had better go to the scuttle, and speak a word to Baxter. It will make the men feel better to know you are all right."

"Very well, I will; but we must not waste time. Everything is favorable for the movement now, and we don't know how long it may be so."

I walked with Sanderson to the forecastle, leaving Palmer in the steerage to warn us if anything went wrong in the cabin. Sanderson whispered to Baxter that we were ready, and the four men who were to join us came below.

"Don't do anything on deck, Baxter," I whispered. "Get our men out of their berths and on deck as quietly as possible."

"They are all wide awake, and will come out when I rap on the planks," replied the stout-hearted old salt.

"If Gorro and Martino attempt to come down from the cross-trees, make a spread eagle of them on the main-rigging. Don't let the three Spaniards come out of the forecastle."

"Ay, ay! But how about the second mate?" asked Baxter.

"In about ten minutes the work below will be done. By that time you can tell him what we are about."

"What if he objects?"

"He won't object."

"But if he does?"

"Serve him as you do the others. Make him fast, hand and foot. Now mind your eye."

I led the way aft, followed by my five companions. I had one of the revolvers in my belt, and had given the other to Baxter, though I cautioned him not to use it except in the last emergency. We all took off our shoes, and left them between decks. We then entered the steerage, where Palmer was nervously awaiting our arrival.

"What shall I do?" asked Palmer.

"Hold the light, and carry the ropes; nothing more. Sanderson and I will take care of the mate."

"Has he a pistol in his state-room?" asked Jack.

"I don't know. Probably he has; but we won't mind a pistol. We will not let him wake enough to know how to use it, if he has one. Are you all ready?"

"Ay, ay!" whispered the men.

"Stay where you are, with the light, Palmer, until you hear a noise. I know just where the room is, and I can find the mate in the dark."

I opened the door which led into the cabin, and crept cautiously aft till I had reached the door of Waterford's room. I could hear the heavy snoring of the captain, and I was satisfied that he would give us no trouble. He was too drunk to resist us, and I had decided not to meddle with him till we had secured the others.

I waited till all my companions were in the cabin; and then, closely attended by Sanderson, I crept into the mate's state-room. I bent over the berth, and, by his heavy breathing, ascertained where his head lay. I then placed my right hand upon his throat, and with my left thrust a handkerchief into his mouth, so that he could not cry out. At the same instant, Sanderson seized his hands, and the mate was secure.

Securing the Mate.

CHAPTER XIX.

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS OBTAIN POSSESSION OF THE MICHIGAN.

Jack Sanderson was a powerful man, and when he had seized the hands of Waterford, he threw his body upon that of his victim. Resistance was useless and hopeless. The mate struggled, until his breath and his strength were exhausted, and then he gave it up. I had choked him so hard, that the want of breath very soon weakened him.

"Show the men where the Spaniards are!" I called to Palmer.

But he had already indicated to the rest of our party in the cabin the room of the two passengers. I heard a slight struggle in that direction, but it was soon over, and I was satisfied that our men had effectually done their work.

"The cords, Palmer!" I called to the steward.

"Here they are. Can I help you?"

"Yes; tie his hands together," I replied.

While the steward was thus engaged, I removed the handkerchief from the mouth of the mate, for he was breathing with extreme difficulty. He was so exhausted that he lay quite still until his hands were made fast. But gradually he regained his breath and his strength. He looked at me, and I saw that he understood the whole matter without any explanation. His expression was ugly again, and I was satisfied that we should have all the trouble with him which he had the power to make.

"Put a line around each of his ankles, Sanderson," said I, when the hands of the prisoner were securely bound.

"Ay, ay!" replied Sanderson, as he proceeded to do what I had asked.

Suddenly the mate began to use his legs, kicking and threshing in the most violent manner. He sprang from my grasp, and attempted to seize me with his teeth; but in another instant I had him by the throat, and jammed the handkerchief into his mouth. A repetition of the discipline we had used in the first place soon restored him to a quiet and orderly state of body, if not of mind. Placing Palmer at his head, with instructions to choke him again if he made any demonstration, I went out into the cabin to ascertain how the matter stood with the Spaniards.

If the passengers had been drunk when they turned in, they appeared to be sober enough now. Our men had dragged one of them into the cabin, while the other was held fast in his berth.

"Gentlemen, any resistance on your part will endanger your lives," I said, producing one of the revolvers taken from their room by the steward.

"What do you mean to do?" demanded the elder of the two, Señor Bartolomé.

"We have concluded not to engage in the slave trade—that's all. Bind your prisoners, my men," I replied.

"What are you going to do with us?" asked the other passenger.

"We do not know yet. That will depend upon circumstances."

I declined to parley any further with the slave traders, and they were securely bound by the men, and made fast to the berths in the state-room. I returned to the mate, who had concluded to keep quiet.

"It is all right, Sanderson. I am going on deck now to see how we stand there. I will take three of the men with me, and leave the others with you."

"We don't need many hands down here now. We have the mate so that he will hold still," replied the old salt.

"The passengers are made fast to their berths, so that they can't move hand or foot; but keep a sharp eye on all of them. If the captain comes to his senses, put a couple of half hitches around his arms."

"Ay, ay! Phil. It shall be all right down here."

"Above all things, Jack, don't drink any rum."

"Not a drop, my lad," said the veteran salt, solemnly, as though he understood the full force of my suggestion.

Taking three of the men with me, I went on deck, leaving Sanderson, the steward, and one other hand to keep order in the cabin.

"How goes it?" asked Baxter, who met me at the head of the companion-way.

"All right; we have them all fast but the captain and he is too drunk to move yet. How goes it on deck?"

"We are all right here, with no show for a brush of any kind. The three Spaniards and one doubtful man in the starboard watch are asleep in the forecastle, I suppose. We haven't heard anything from them; but we have three men at hand to look out for them. Schneider, the Dutchman, in our watch, is with us now; at least he says he is, and while we keep possession of the bark, I have no doubt he is."

"But where are Martino and Gorro?" I asked.

"On the cross-trees. I don't believe they have the least idea yet that anything is the matter."

"Let them rest for the present. What does Mr. York say?"

"Here he is; he can speak for himself. I have told him all about it."

"I am with you, Farringford, for I did not ship to go into the slave-trading business."

"The bark is in our possession, sir," I added.

"Not quite," replied the second mate, shaking his head.

"I think it is, sir. We have the mate and the two passengers tied hand and foot. The captain is too drunk to move, but we can secure him at any moment we choose."

"But there are three men in the forecastle, and two aloft, who will give you some trouble."

"I think we can dispose of them without any difficulty, as soon as we are ready to do so. According to the agreement made by the crew among themselves, you are to command the bark, Mr. York."

"I'm very much obliged to the men, but I don't quite like the job. However, we will talk about that by and by, when we have disposed of the rest of the slave traders," answered the second mate. "You and Baxter have managed this affair so far, and have done it very well, too. I think you had better carry out your own plans."

"Very well, sir. If you will hail Martino, on the cross-trees, and call him down, we will take care of him."

"On the cross-trees!" shouted the second mate.

"On deck, sir!"

"Martino, come down."

Baxter and I stationed ourselves near the weather main-rigging; and, as soon as the Spaniard touched the deck, the new order of things was made manifest to him by a severe hug on the part of my companion. Very unexpectedly to us, he did not offer any violent resistance, but struggled in terror rather than in wrath. He uttered some expressions in his own language, and then begged for mercy in ours. We tied his hands behind him, and fastened him to the rail. Gorro was evidently alarmed by the noise, and came down, without any orders, to see what was the matter. He halted on the shrouds, and tried to ascertain the nature of the disturbance.

"On deck, Gorro," said the second mate.

But the man was as timid as his companion had been, and was not disposed to come down, though, in the gloom of the night, he could not have seen precisely what had happened to Martino.

"On deck, or I'll shoot you!" called Baxter.

"Gracias a Dios!" exclaimed the Spaniard.

"Come down!"

Slowly and cautiously Gorro descended to the deck.

"Don't kill me!" pleaded he.

"We won't hurt you, if you behave yourself," answered Baxter, as he seized the wretch.

"Soy su amigo de usted."

"Speak English or nothing," added Baxter.

"I am your friend," pleaded Gorro.

"Not by a long chalk! I don't own you. Hold still, and we won't hurt you, though you are good for nothing but to feed sharks with, you cowardly nigger-stealer."

"Don't kill me. I will obey all orders. I won't hurt no one."

"I don't mean you shall."

We made him fast, as we had Martino, and were so much nearer the completion of our task.

"I thought they would show fight," said the second mate.

"I almost wish they had, for it would have been a pleasure to break their heads," replied Baxter, who was not a little elated by the easy victory we had obtained.

"Now, how many hands have we on deck?" I asked, when the two whom we had regarded as the most dangerous among the crew had been secured.

"We have all hands except the three Spaniards in the forecastle, and Franklin, who is still doubtful. Fifteen, all told, are on our side now," answered Baxter.

"Good! We have a dozen men on deck, and we will settle the business with those in the steerage now," I continued.

I led the way forward.

"All the starbowlines, on deck, ahoy!" shouted the second mate, at my request.

"Tumble out here, you sleepers!"

As usual, this was not quite effectual, and a couple of hands went into the forecastle, and shook the heavy slumberers. The first that appeared were Pedro and Sylvio, the two Portuguese sailors. They were affectionately hugged by Walker and Baxter, and their yells startled the other two. As they rushed out they were treated in the same familiar and loving manner, and in a moment or two we had them all fast to the rail.

"What does all this mean?" demanded Franklin, the only remaining neutral or doubtful man on board.

"There has been a fight between the slave traders and the honest men on board," I replied.

"Is that so?"

"That's so, Franklin; and the honest men have won the battle."

"Why do you tie me up? I am not a slave trader."

"It's all the same. You were in doubt whether to serve the devil or not. Those who are not with us are against us."

"I'm not against you."

"Yes, you are," added Baxter, stoutly. "A milk-and-water man is about the same as an enemy."

"You didn't tell me what you were about. If you had, I should have joined you," pleaded Franklin.

"You know well enough now which side you want to be on, but you made up your mind too late."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"We are going to let you make up your mind whether you want to go slaving or not."

"My mind is made up now. I say, if you had told me what you were doing, I would have joined you."

"Didn't you say you would like to make a thousand dollars out of this cruise? Didn't you take your grog when all the rest of us refused? Didn't you stay on the forecastle when the rest of us went aft, to palaver with the mate?" demanded Baxter.

"Yes, I did; but I hadn't any more idea of going a slaving than you had. If you had only told me—"

"We didn't dare to tell you, because you didn't talk like a man. I think an American sailor, like you, ought to know whether he will be a pirate or not."

"I did know."

"No, you didn't; and we had to treat you as a pirate. That's what the law calls any man that's willing to go into that business. You had better think of it a while longer, and when you are sure you have made up your mind, we will talk with you again," replied Baxter, as we left him.

CHAPTER XX.

IN WHICH PHIL ARGUES A POINT WITH WATERFORD, AND MOUNTS GUARD IN THE STEERAGE.

"I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. York," I remarked, as we went aft.

"I am; the work is done, and well done. If you had told me what you were doing, I would have taken part with you. I gave Sanderson to understand that I was against slaving."

"I know you did, sir; but, as you were an officer, we thought it was best that you should not commit yourself," I answered. "You were no such fellow as Franklin, who did not know whether he would be a pirate or not."

"I said all I could against the voyage, and I had some hard words with Mr. Waterford."

"We have understood that you were with us from the beginning. The men have all agreed that you shall be captain."

"I don't know about that. I'm not a navigator," replied York.

"No matter for that; you are a sailor."

"That's so, Captain York," added Baxter; "and the men all respect you, too."

"I don't say I will take the command. We will let that subject rest till to-morrow."

"Very well, sir; but I think we need not go any farther south."

"We are getting into the doldrums now," replied the new master.

"I think we had better come about, and stand up to the northward," I suggested.

"Ay, ay!" responded half a dozen of the crew, including Baxter.

"Very well," replied the captain. "Ready about!"

We all sprang to our stations.

"Helm a lee," he continued. "Raise tacks and sheets."

The bark threw her head round towards the wind, which, however, was very light, hardly more than enough to give her steerage way.

"Mainsail, haul!" shouted Captain York, when the bark's head was within one point of the wind. "Let go and haul."

All hands worked with a will, and never did a more cheerful set of sailors handle the braces than our party. Coming about seemed like retracing the wayward steps taken by the pirates in charge of the vessel; and, when the Michigan was headed towards the north, we experienced a great relief from the burden which had rested upon us. Walker was sent to the wheel, and the course "due north" had been given out. We had not yet determined what to do with the vessel; but we all agreed that it was better to go north than south, for the vessel was just passing out of the region of the north-east trades, and we were liable to be becalmed if we continued on our former course.

Our work could hardly be said to be accomplished, for we had not yet disposed of our prisoners, ten of whom might cause us a great deal of trouble if by accident one of them should break his bonds. I spoke to Captain York about this matter, and he left it entirely to Baxter and me. We went below, and found everything in the cabin just as we had left it. Waterford still lay in his berth, and Sanderson, like a vigilant sentinel as he was, stood by him.

"How goes it on deck, Phil?" asked the old salt, when he saw me.

"All right; we have bound all the pirates, and put the bark about."

"How does she head?"

"North."

"That's right. We ought to keep away from the slave region," replied the veteran, with a cheerful smile.

"Now, what shall we do with these pirates?"

"Pirates!" exclaimed Waterford, lifting up his head.

"That's what the law calls them; and, if you are not hung as pirates, you won't get what you deserve."

"The day of reckoning will come yet, Phil," added the mate, grating his teeth with rage.

"It has come now, so far as you are concerned," I replied. "But what shall we do with the pirates, Sanderson?"

"Keep them fast; that's all we can do with them. Have you any plan, Phil?"

"I have; I think we had better give them the steerage."

"Just as you say, Phil."

"Bring out the mate. He is the worst one of the lot, and we will take care of him first."

"Get up, Waterford," said Sanderson, casting off the cords attached to the prisoner's ankles.

"If, by any chance, you should get loose, Mr. Waterford, I shall deem it my duty to shoot you as a pirate," I added, exhibiting the revolver I carried with me.

"The day of reckoning will come, Phil," growled he, as Sanderson pulled him out of his berth.

"Let it come. I shall be there when it comes," I replied.

Waterford taken to the Steerage.

The ropes tied to his ankles were loose enough to enable him to walk, and Sanderson led him to the steerage. His hands were bound so tightly behind him that he could offer no resistance, and perhaps the fear of my pistol had some influence over him. We conducted him to the stanchion where I had been made fast in the first dog watch, and tied him up in precisely the situation he had left me.

"The tables seem to be turned, Mr. Waterford," I suggested, when we had finished the operation. "I hope you will appreciate the position as well as I did."

"The tables will be turned the other way very soon, Phil," growled he.

"Perhaps they will be; if they are, I hope we shall have the patience to submit like men."

"What are you going to do, Phil?" he demanded.

"I didn't ask you any such impertinent questions, and you will excuse me from answering, at least till we get our minds made up in regard to our intentions. Bring in the other pirates, Sanderson," I continued.

The old sailor followed the steward, who carried the lantern, and I was left alone with my great enemy.

"You have got the better of me again, Phil," said he, in a milder tone.

"I know it."

"I should like to make a trade with you."

"You can't do it."

"Why not?"

"Because I will make no bargains with a man like you—with a pirate."

"Don't use hard words. There is a great deal of money on board, and you don't know the men who are doing this thing with you."

"Yes, I do. I know them better than you do, or you never would have shipped them on a piratical voyage."

"You have put the bark about—haven't you?"

"We have."

"The men who are working with you are a set of miserable, drunken vagabonds. You can't take the bark into port with them. They will find where the liquor is, and then the vessel will be wrecked, and all hands lost."

"I would rather take my chances with them than with you. Anything but being a pirate."

"There is no pirate about it; we haven't taken any negroes on board yet, and the worst that can be made of it is fitting out a slaver. I don't want to take any men down to the coast of Africa who don't want to go there."

"Yes, you do."

"No; if you will hear me, you shall make a good thing out of this cruise, and not see a single negro."

"I won't trust you, and you are wasting your breath."

"You know very well that the crew will keep drunk all the time as soon as they find the liquor. Old Sanderson is the best man on board, but he will drink all day long."

"I will trust him, drunk or sober, farther than I would you."

"The vessel will be wrecked, and you will lose your life."

"You will not volunteer to be the chief mourner if I do, Ben Waterford. For the present I intend to take care of myself."

"Thank you, Phil, for what you said about me," said Sanderson, leading Señor Bartolomé into the steerage.

"What's that?"

"You said you would trust me, drunk or sober, farther than you would that pirate. I give you the word and honor of an old sailor that I won't drink a drop of liquor till the cruise is up."

"I believe you, Jack. Rum is your only enemy."

"Thank you, Phil. What shall we do with this pirate?" he added, shaking the Spanish don very unceremoniously into the steerage, at the door of which he had paused.

"Pitch him into one of those berths. Tie his hands and feet so that he can use neither of them. If he wants to roll out of his berth, he may; but that's all he can do."

Sanderson followed my directions, and, after tumbling the don into the bunk, as though he rather relished the job, he tied his feet together.

"Now bring in the other," I added.

"Just listen to reason, Phil," said Waterford, when Sanderson and the steward had gone.

"That's what I have been listening to all the time; but when you ask me to listen to you, that's quite another thing."

"You can keep that money."

"I have intended to do that all along, though I am much obliged to you for your kind permission to do so."

"You shall have more," pleaded he, beginning to be quite earnest.

"More of your stolen money?"

"It is my own—all I have."

"It is the proceeds of your St. Louis forgery."

"But there is money enough on board to satisfy you."

"No, there isn't. You may call it cant, if you please; but I would not do what I know to be wrong for all the money in the world. You had better be contented where you are, Mr. Waterford, for I know you too well to trust you."

Sanderson brought in the other Spaniard, and he was bound and thrown into a bunk, as his countryman had been.

"Now bring Captain Farraday. We will have them all where we can find them," I said.

"Ay, ay, Phil," replied Sanderson, cheerfully.

The captain was still too drunk to stand, or to comprehend what had transpired on board. We tied him, as we had the other pirates, and rolled him into another berth. In a few moments we heard him snoring in his drunken stupor, unconscious that he was no longer master of the Michigan.

"We have six more on deck," said Sanderson. "What shall we do with them?"

"There are five more berths in the steerage; I don't know but that we might as well put them all in here—at least all but Franklin. By the way, we will carry the guns, pistols, and cutlasses into the cabin, and the ammunition too."

"Ay, ay, Phil; we can make a better use of these playthings than the pirates. I suppose they were brought on board to keep us in order."

"We will change their use, and let the biters be bitten."

The arms and ammunition were removed to the cabin, and the five Spanish and Portuguese sailors, tied hand and foot, were put into the other berths. There was no aristocracy in the steerage then. The captain, the passengers, and the common sailors berthed together under the same regulation.

"Now, Jack, I believe in having one pair of eyes on these pirates all the time; and I will take my first turn, if you like."

"All right."

"Palmer, load those pistols and muskets with ball, for if we lose the bark, there will be some dead men on board," I continued.

With my revolver in my hand, I took position where I could see all the prisoners.

CHAPTER XXI.

IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES SECOND MATE OF THE MICHIGAN.

I was alone with the prisoners,—nine in number,—all but one of whom lay in the berths of the steerage, bound hand and foot. Waterford, the most active and dangerous of the party, was tied to a stanchion. I had not caused him to be placed in this uncomfortable situation because he had done the same thing to me, but because I dared not permit him to be where the sentinel could not see all the time what he was doing. If one of these slave traders should get loose, he could free the others, and we should be obliged to fight the battle over again.

Occasionally I walked around the steerage to see that all was safe, and to satisfy myself that the mate had not loosened his bonds. He and the two Spanish passengers were inclined to argue the matter with me; but I thought, as I had the best of the case, I would not meddle with the subject. I did not wonder that the passengers were uneasy. As they were bound to the Slave Coast to buy negroes, it followed that they were well supplied with money, which I concluded was in their state-room. The venture must have looked like a poor speculation to them, while they were prisoners in the steerage, with the bark headed to the north.

At twelve o'clock the new captain came below to see me in regard to the watches. We arranged that Sanderson should take charge of the mid-watch, and that Baxter should stand guard over the prisoners. This plan was carried into effect immediately. The port watch turned in, and the starboard took the deck. Captain York and myself slept in the cabin, he taking the captain's state-room, and I that of the two passengers. I slept pretty well, notwithstanding the excitement of the night. At eight bells in the morning we were called to relieve the watch on deck. Walker, properly armed, took his place in the steerage, with orders to examine all the prisoners at least every half hour.

I went on deck with York. Although he had been promoted to the highest position on board, he did not "put on any airs." I was a boy, but he called me to the quarter-deck for a consultation in regard to the course to be pursued.

"When I went on deck last night to take my watch, I didn't expect to be captain before morning," said he. "When we reached the coast of Africa I intended to protest, and leave the bark with as many of the men as were willing to join me."

"You would have been too late," I replied. "That steerage was fitted up for the Spanish and Portuguese sailors, and in my opinion more were to be obtained somewhere. I don't think you would have found a chance to leave the vessel. These men were to be armed, and were to compel the rest of the crew to do duty."

"You are right, though I would rather have captured the vessel after the negroes were taken on board. It would not have looked at all like mutiny then."

"I don't think it does now. We have evidence enough that the bark is on a slaving voyage; and I have no doubt we shall find more proof when we have overhauled the hold," I replied.

"I am satisfied that it is best as it is," he added. "But what are we to do?"

"That's a question we have yet to decide. Do you know who owns the vessel now?"

"Those Spaniards. They bought out the Ashborns' interest in her. If the vessel has to be destroyed, Captain Farraday is to be paid for his share, and has a percentage on the profits besides."

"There must be a great deal of money on board."

"Probably there is."

"I know that Waterford had about ten thousand dollars."

"But he says you robbed him of fifteen hundred dollars."

"I took what was my own," I replied, explaining my relations with the mate.

"You have a right to your own property wherever you find it," said Captain York.

"There are two things on board that will give us more trouble than our prisoners," I continued.

"What are they?"

"The rum and the money."

"That's so," replied the captain, emphatically.

"Sanderson says he will not drink another drop until this cruise is up."

"I am afraid they will all drink if they get a chance."

"It will be well to keep them out of temptation as much as possible," I replied. "Did you help stow the vessel?"

"Only the stores and provisions, but I know where the rum is."

"We shall get along better without it than with it."

"What do you mean?"

"In plain words, the rum will do less harm on the bottom of the bark than it will down the throats of the men. I believe in pulling out the spigots of the barrels."

"Certainly; we could do that, if necessary."

"We had better do it before it is absolutely necessary. If the men get drunk, we don't know what they may do."

"No; no one ever knows what a drunken man will do."

"What about the money?"

"Do the men know anything about it?"

"I think not; I never heard them say anything. But they will naturally suspect that there is a large sum on board."

"I don't know where it is."

"Nor I; except what Mr. Waterford has in his trunk. I think the men will do well enough, if we only keep them sober."

We spent the whole of the morning watch discussing the various questions of interest that presented themselves. When the sun rose, the breeze freshened, and we had evidently escaped the region of calms. There was nothing like an incident on board, for the sentinel in the steerage performed his duty so faithfully that none of the prisoners had a chance to strike for liberty. We did not see a single sail or the smoke of a steamer in the distance. The discipline of the bark was as good as it had ever been; and everybody, except the occupants of the steerage, was satisfied.

After the forenoon watch was called, we gave the prisoners their breakfast, the watch below attending to this duty. We allowed each one of the slave traders to use his right hand only, and we had force enough to overpower them if they attempted a demonstration.

"How long am I to be kept in this position, Phil?" asked Waterford, evidently very much subdued by the discomforts of his situation.

"I don't know; we can't trust you; and we must keep you so that we shall know where to find you."

"But I am suffering with pain."

"Do you think you suffer any more than one of the poor negroes would, if you had crowded four or five hundred of them into the hold and between decks?"

"I'm not a nigger."

"But a negro has the capacity to suffer as well as you. I hope it will not be necessary to keep you where you are many weeks."

"Many weeks! I should die in one week. I can't sleep a wink tied to this stanchion," pleaded he.

"I will see what can be done for you in the course of the day," I replied.

"I am in pain."

"So was I last night."

"I have been here ten hours."

"We put you there because there was no other safe place for you," I replied, as I left the steerage.

We had agreed to call all hands during the forenoon, and decide upon our future course. We were all in the dark in regard to the status of things on board. We were not sure whether, in the eye of the law, we were mutineers, or had done our duty in capturing the vessel. I had seen some books in the captain's state-room; and in the hope of obtaining the information we needed, I brought them out into the cabin. Among them were "The Shipmaster's Assistant," and a thin volume of "Naval Laws." In the former I found an abstract of the laws relating to the slave trade, and in the latter the laws themselves. I read both with deep interest, and the result of my study was entirely satisfactory.

While I was thus engaged, Captain York called all hands, and I hastened on deck with the books in my hand. The bark was under easy sail, and going along very comfortably. The man at the wheel, and the one who stood guard over the prisoners, were all that were actually employed. Franklin, the doubtful man, had been released shortly after his capture, and was now one of the most zealous and active of the crew; though, if the battle had gone the other way, I am afraid he would have been just as zealous and active on the other side. The principal men in the conference were York, Sanderson, Baxter, and Walker.

The command of the bark was formally given to York, and all hands promptly assented. The selection of a chief mate proved to be a more difficult matter, for the men were about equally divided in favor of Sanderson and Baxter. The old man was ready to retire from the field, and urged the men to go for Baxter; but the latter, not less magnanimous, waived his own claim in favor of Sanderson.

"We must vote on this question," I suggested.

"Ay, ay, vote; we know how to do that," cried Walker.

"All right, shipmates; bring in your ballots," added Captain York. "The one who gets the most votes shall be chief mate."

I brought up some paper from the cabin, cut it into small slips, and gave each man one of them. Pencils were provided, and each hand wrote the name of his candidate, if he could write: if he could not, he came to me, and I wrote it for him. The sentinel in the steerage was called upon to exercise his privilege. I was appointed to receive the votes; and when I had counted them, I found they stood eight to eight, for the captain voted with the others. We balloted a second time with the same result.

The Crew Vote for Chief Mate.

After I had announced the vote, I saw that Sanderson and Baxter were very busy among the men; and on the third ballot I was not a little astonished to find that Phil Farringford had twelve of the sixteen votes, and was therefore chosen. I positively declined to serve, where-upon Baxter withdrew his name once more; but Sanderson did the same. I distributed the votes a fourth time, and did a little electioneering for my man, Sanderson. This time he had ten votes, and was therefore elected. He began to decline, but Baxter and several others assured him it was his duty to serve, and he finally consented.

"Now, my lads," said the master, "neither the captain nor the mate you have chosen is a navigator; and the second mate ought to be the only one on board who can take an observation and lay down the ship's position on the chart. Those who are in favor of Phil Farringford for second mate will say, Ay."

"Ay!" shouted the whole crew.

"Those opposed say, No."

The crew were silent, and I was declared to be the choice of all hands. I did not feel equal to the position, and began to decline; but I was silenced, and with the best grace I could command, I accepted. The watches were then rearranged, so as to make them as nearly equal as possible, both in regard to numbers and seamanship.

CHAPTER XXII.

IN WHICH PHIL LAYS DOWN THE LAW, AND IS AFTERWARDS MUCH ALARMED.

"Now, my lads, we are in ship-shape and working order," said Captain York, after all the arrangements had been completed. "We have the bark; but what shall we do with her?"

"That's the question," replied Baxter. "I suppose we must lose our time and go on shore as poor as we came on board. But I would rather land in New York with only a shirt on my back than go a slaving."

"I say so too; but it is rather a hard case," added the new mate. "We have got our advance, and I suppose that's all we shall make out of this cruise."

"Perhaps not," I interposed.

"No matter whether it is so or not; I am satisfied," said Sanderson. "I wouldn't help take a cargo of niggers over to Cuba for all the money there is in New York. Their howls would haunt me to my dying day."

"It's always the safest way to do one's duty, without regard to consequences," I continued.

"I suppose it is," said the captain; "but it's a hard case for the men."

"Perhaps not; we will look at that matter by and by," I answered, holding up one of the books I had brought on deck. "Where shall we go? That's the first question."

"If we stand towards the coast, we may be able to find a man-of-war; perhaps the steamer that chased us yesterday," added Captain York. "I have no doubt she intends to cut off the bark somewhere on the coast."

"What do you say, Phil?" asked Sanderson.

"I say, return to New York."

"Why so?"

"We can get out of the scrape sooner and better in that way than in any other," I replied. "If we fall in with a man-of-war, the bark will be her prize; she is ours now."

"But we have too many prisoners on board to make a run of three or four weeks, perhaps five or six," suggested the captain.

"I think we can take care of the prisoners well enough. We have all the arms, and we can do everything in our own way."

"But why not hand them over to a man-of-war, if we can find one?" continued Captain York.

"Because the bark would be her prize then; now she is ours. I will read you the law, if you like."

"What law?"

"The law relating to vessels fitted out for the slave trade."

"Read on, Phil."

All hands gathered around me, deeply interested in the subject, and I read from "The Shipmaster's Assistant," in order that they might know how they stood, as follows:—

"Citizens of the United States, voluntarily serving on board of a foreign or American vessel engaged in the slave trade, were formerly subject to a fine and imprisonment; but now they are regarded as pirates, and suffer death."

"That's the idea!" exclaimed Baxter. "That's what's the matter; if we had voluntarily gone down to the coast of Africa and taken in a cargo of slaves—suffer death."

"And we must either resist or go voluntarily," added Sanderson.

"But some of us are not citizens of the United States," said Welsh.

"There are a great many other laws; and I don't think it makes any difference what country you belong to, if you are caught in the business. Some of you think it is a hard case to lose your wages. I will read you from another law, which goes on to say, that no person or persons shall build, fit, equip, load, or otherwise prepare a vessel to be engaged in the slave trade. Now hear. 'And if any ship or vessel shall be so built, fitted out, equipped, laden, or otherwise prepared for the purpose aforesaid, every said ship or vessel, her tackle, apparel, furniture, and lading shall be forfeited, one moiety to the use of the United States, and the other to the use of the person or persons who shall sue for said forfeiture, and prosecute the same to effect,' &c."

"What's the English of that, Phil?" asked Walker, scratching his head, and then hitching up his trousers.

"It means that the vessel and all that she contains shall be forfeited," I replied.

"What's that maw—"

"Moiety? It means one half."

"Do you mean to say that half the value of the bark will go into our pockets?"

"I am no lawyer, but that's what I think it means. In my opinion, shipmates, you will make more money by taking the vessel back to New York than you would by accepting the thousand dollars the mate offered you for the cruise."

"That's good news, but it's only a fair thing," said Baxter.

"The men who fit out a slaver are liable to a fine of from one to five thousand dollars besides, and half of that goes to the informers. We shall be the informers in this case."

"I don't care anything about that," added Sanderson. "I don't like that word. I believe in minding my own business; but it's a different thing when men are carried off as we were, and called mutineers, when we object to go slaving."

The men agreed with the new mate, and the reading of the law transformed them all into a very cheerful crew. As the result of the conference, the course of the bark was changed to the north-west, and the joyful cry of homeward bound rang through the vessel. For my own part, while I had strongly advised this plan, it caused me much regret to abandon my mission in Europe for the present. We had the north-east trades, and the wind was fresh and fair; but we could not expect to reach New York in less than three weeks.

We were over four weeks from port, and by this time the Bayard, with the Gracewoods on board, was on her way home. But I might hope to meet them in New York or in St. Louis, and this was a sufficient consolation. I should be obliged to ascertain in Chicago where my mother was, and do all I had done over again. I should be able to visit Europe during the summer, if my mother and her brother did not decide to come home before that time.

At noon I took the observations, and carefully calculated the position of the bark. I pricked the chart to indicate the place of the vessel, which was about a hundred and ten miles south-west of the Cape Verd Islands. I examined the nature of the currents, after I had made out the course with the parallel ruler. Being a new hand, I went over my figures and allowances three times before I gave out the course to the helmsman; but when I had done so, I was satisfied it was correct. I spent all my time, when off watch, in studying the "Navigator," the chart, and the currents. I found that the hard work I had done over algebra and geometry, on the Upper Missouri and in Chicago, had prepared me for the duty I was now called upon to perform. I needed more experience in practical seamanship; but I felt competent, so far as the navigation was concerned, to sail a ship all over the world.

"Mr. Waterford says he wants to see me," said Captain York to me in the afternoon. "Would you see him?"

"I should; we ought to listen to what he has to say."

"Come with me, Mr. Farringford."

I followed him into the steerage. Waterford was the picture of despair.

"York, are you in command?" groaned the sufferer.

"I am, for the want of a better master."

"Will you order one of your hands to shoot me?"

"No, I will not."

"I would rather die than be kept here. If you mean to murder me, do it at once, and don't kill me by inches."

"What can we do for you?"

"I am in pain and misery. Shoot me!"

"What can we do with him, Mr. Farringford?" said the captain, turning to me.

"Tell him to shoot me, Phil."

"No, I shall not. You are wanted in St. Louis to answer to the charge of forgery; but I am in favor of doing what I can to make you more comfortable."

"Loose me, then."

"I am afraid we might have to shoot you, then. Mr. Waterford, we are going to take the bark back to New York, and we intend to land you there. We have no desire to make you suffer, but we mean to keep you safely."

"I will give you my word that I will be perfectly quiet, if you will give me liberty to walk about the vessel."

"Give him an hour on deck, Captain York, if you please, with a hand to watch him; I don't believe in running any risks."

"I am willing," replied the new master.

I untied Waterford's feet, and released him from the stanchion. As a change of position for his arms, I tied his wrists in front of him, and then led him on deck. He could hardly walk at first, but he soon recovered the use of his limbs, and I led him up and down the deck for an hour. He felt better then, and became sullen and silent. I conducted him back to the steerage. Baxter and Sanderson then led the two Spanish passengers up for their exercise, and Palmer and myself put Waterford into one of their berths.

"Do you feel better, Waterford?" I asked.

"Yes; but you haven't seen the end of this thing yet," he growled, so naturally that I was sure his condition was very much improved.

"I think I shall be more willing to see the end of it than you will," I replied. "We wish to make you as comfortable as the circumstances will admit."

He was disposed to talk with me, after the ebullition of ill-nature had subsided; but I left him to assist in giving others of the prisoners the air and exercise which they so much needed, and which it was inhuman to deny them. The seamen among them begged for mercy, and promised to serve their new masters faithfully if they were set at liberty. We decided to let Pedro and Sylvio, the least vicious of them, return to their duty, for we were rather short-handed, and were likely to have heavy weather as we made more northing. We were obliged to keep a sentinel in the steerage all the time, which made one less for duty on deck.

We went along very well for a week, having the steady trade-wind fair all the time. Then we had calms and blows by turns. One gale lasted two days; and when the men were somewhat worn down,—for we were obliged to keep all hands on deck,—we released the rest of the seamen in the steerage on their promise to be obedient. The situation of the prisoners was far from agreeable, while the vessel pitched and rolled in the heavy sea, and the Spanish and Portuguese sailors were glad to escape on any terms.

I kept a revolver in my belt all the time, and the other officers did the same; but the pirates behaved well, and gave us no trouble. When the gale subsided, we allowed the seamen to remain upon duty, they did so well; but we soon had occasion to repent this indulgence. On the eighth day of our homeward voyage I took the deck at eight bells, in charge of the starboard watch, as usual.

At six bells, Baxter, who had just been released at the wheel, came aft and told me that nearly every man in the watch was drunk. The weather looked squally, and I was alarmed at this discovery. I went below and called the captain. When he came on deck, he ordered the light sails to be taken in, and I called all hands. To my astonishment I found that more than half of the port watch were also so drunk that they could hardly stand, and were not in condition to go aloft. Things looked serious on board just then.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN WHICH PHIL COUNSELS PRUDENCE, AND RESORTS TO STRATEGY.

As all hands were called, Captain York took the command, and Sanderson went forward among the men. As my station was also in the midst of the crew, I had an opportunity to see who were drunk and who were sober. Martino and Gorro were the drunkest of the crowd, and I had no doubt that it was through their agency that the liquor had been obtained, though in what manner I was unable to see. Sanderson soon proved that he was as good an officer as he was a seaman.

"Lay aloft, Martino, and furl the main top-gallant sail," said he to the leader of the drunken Spaniards.

"When the officers of the bark give me an order, I obey them," said Martino, in substance.

"Do you hear, my hearty? Lay aloft and furl the main top-gallant sail!" repeated the mate, sharply.

"I don't obey you any longer. Mr. Waterford is coming on deck soon."

"You don't obey me?"

"No, I don't."

"Then you will take the consequences," continued Sanderson, as with his iron fist he dealt the Spaniard a blow upon the side of the head which felled him to the deck, where he lay senseless.

Sanderson and Phil quell a Mutiny.

"What are you about?" shouted Gorro, also maddened by rum, as he rushed to the assistance of his leader.

"Stop!" I called, stepping between him and the mate.

The pirate had a belaying-pin in his hand, with which he struck at me; but he was too much intoxicated to act efficiently, and I easily warded off the blow. Wrenching the pin from his hand, I struck him down with it.

"There is a mutiny here," said Sanderson.

"That's plain enough. We must act promptly."

"I think we have done so; two of the pirates are floored. Where's Baxter?"

"Here I am," replied the stout seaman, as he appeared with several handcuffs, which we had brought up for use in case of need; and there was a plentiful supply of the articles below, which the slavers had provided for the emergencies of their calling. "What's the row?"

"Mutiny," replied Sanderson. "We have floored Martino and Gorro; and I suppose there are others who need a rap on the side of the head."

"Where are they? Slip the handcuffs on their wrists."

We adopted this prudent suggestion, and pinioned the wrists of the two senseless ruffians behind them, rolling them into the scuppers, where they were out of the way.

"The captain has ordered the light sails to be furled. It is coming on nasty and squally weather," continued Sanderson.

"But the men are too drunk to go aloft," I suggested. "I will take in the royals myself, if you can find four men who are steady enough to handle the top-gallant sails."

Without waiting for this question to be answered, I went up the main rigging, and furled the main royal. Sliding down on the main top-gallant stay, I took in the fore royal. By this time four men had come aloft to furl the top-gallant sails. I assisted the two on the fore top-gallant yard, and then hastened down to the deck. The flying-jib was taken in, and then the bark went along easily; but the flaws of wind were very heavy, and it was evident that we should be obliged to reef topsails very soon.

"There's a row in the steerage, Phil," said Sanderson, coming aft, when we had taken in the flying-jib.

"Hallo!" I exclaimed. "The fore scuttle has been taken off!"

"Clap it on, and make it fast," replied the mate.

The situation began to be very serious. With nearly all the men drunk, there was a disturbance in the steerage. There was plainly a rising among the prisoners. It was clear enough that the trouble had been caused by the Spanish and Portuguese sailors. Everything had gone along so well for a week, that we had relaxed our vigilance to some extent, though we went through all the forms established at the commencement of our rule in the vessel.

I secured the fore scuttle so that it could not be opened from below. I began to have an idea of the manner in which the difficulty had been occasioned. The five pirates—as I choose to call those who had knowingly embarked for a slave voyage—whom we had released had done the work for their masters in the steerage. They had brought up the rum, and given it to the crew, in preparation for the strike which was to ensue. But we had disposed of the two worst of the pirates on deck.

"Come, Phil, we must go below," said Sanderson. "Baxter will remain on deck, and see that the fore scuttle or the main hatch is not removed."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Sanderson," I interposed. "The more haste, the worse speed."

"But there's a row in the steerage."

"No matter; we will not put our heads into a trap," I replied, as we walked aft and met Captain York in the waist.

"We are in trouble, Mr. Farringford," said the captain. "I think, from the noise in the steerage, that the pirates there have overpowered the sentinel."

"Who was on guard?" I asked.

"Franklin."

"I'm afraid he's a traitor. Where's Palmer?"

"He has not turned out."

"If either of the pirates attempts to come on deck by the companion-way, shoot him, Captain York. We must not mince the matter now. It is life and death with us."

"That's so; and I will not flinch," replied the captain.

"Mr. Sanderson and I will go below, if you and Baxter, who is forward, will ascertain where Grego, Sylvio, and Pedro are. Let us be sure that we have the deck before we do anything below."

"All right, Mr. Farringford."

The captain walked forward, and the mate and myself, with our revolvers ready for use, went down into the cabin. The lantern was burning below the skylight, and we soon satisfied ourselves that the cabin had not yet been invaded by the conspirators. I waked Palmer, who slept on the transom under the stern ports, and had heard nothing yet. There were now three of us, and we were all well armed. All the guns and pistols had been removed from the steerage to the cabin, so that we were not likely to encounter an armed resistance if we made an onslaught upon the pirates.

"Palmer, where is the rum kept?" I asked.

"In the hold; there are two or three barrels of it. There are half a dozen demijohns of liquor here in the cabin."

"But nearly all the men are drunk. Where did they get their liquor?"

"They must have got it in the hold," replied the steward.

"It is a mistake that these casks were not stove before," I replied, as I led the way, pistol in hand, to the steerage.

"Let me go first," said Sanderson. "You are a young man, and have a mother. It is not time for you to die yet, Phil."

He crowded himself ahead of me, and threw open the door which led into the steerage. I followed him closely, for if there was a fight, I intended to do my full share in it. The lantern, which had been suspended from a deck beam overhead, to enable the sentinel to see his prisoners, had been taken down, and the steerage was so dark that we could see nothing.

"Bring the cabin lantern, Palmer," said I, taking Sanderson by the arm, and pulling him back.

"Who's there?" demanded a voice out of the gloom of the apartment, as soon as I spoke.

"Who is it?" asked Sanderson.

"It is I."

"Who?"

"Franklin."

"Where are the pirates?"

"Gone," said he.

"Is that the way you do your duty?"

"I could not help it."

"Couldn't help it!" added the mate, sternly. "Why didn't you fire at the first man that attempted to escape?"

"I couldn't," he answered, as Palmer appeared with the lantern.

The light revealed his situation, and we were not disposed to blame him till we heard more. He was lashed to the stanchion where Waterford had been confined, with his hands tied behind him. The four pirates were not in the berths where we had left them, and the cords that had bound them were scattered about the deck.

"What does this mean?" I demanded of Franklin.

"I don't know; only that I was knocked down, my pistol taken from me, and I was bound to this stanchion," replied the sentinel, sheepishly.

"Who knocked you down?"

"Grego was one of them. I couldn't see who the others were."

"Where are they now?"

"They went between decks."

"All right," said Sanderson. "The scuttle and the hatch are fast, so that they can't go on deck."

The mate released the sentinel, for it did not appear that he had wilfully aided the pirates. The fact that he was bound, and left in the steerage, was sufficient evidence that he was not in the plot. This was a great relief to us, for we had doubted the man in the beginning, and we could not afford to lose a single hand from our party in the present emergency. We retreated to the cabin for further consultation; for, while Sanderson was disposed to be rash, and grapple with the pirates without delay, I was in favor of ascertaining precisely how we stood, and then fighting the battle by the aid of strategy rather than by brute force alone. We closed and locked the door leading from the cabin to the steerage.

"Now let us know how things stand on deck, before we go any farther," said I, as we paused at the foot of the companion ladder.

"I think we might as well shoot down the pirates at once, and make short work of it, Phil," said the new mate.

"They have one pistol at least, and possibly more. One of us may get the first ball through his head; and as we have everything secure on deck, we can afford to wait better than the pirates. They have made a blunder somewhere, and it is our duty to take advantage of it."

"What blunder?" asked Sanderson.

"In my opinion, Martino and Gorro began the row just a little while too soon. If they had not refused to do duty, all the pirates would have been on deck before this time. They drank too much of their own rum, and it became their foe instead of their friend."

"That's so; it was stupid of them."

"Rum always makes men stupid," I replied, ascending the ladder. "Captain York!" I called.

"Ay, ay, Phil."

"How is it on deck?"

"We have overhauled the hands. Grego, Sylvio, and Pedro are not on deck."

"Then they are below. The prisoners are all loose—seven of them—between decks."

"All loose!" exclaimed Captain York.

"Every one of them."

"And hardly half a dozen of the crew are able to stand up, they are so drunk," replied the captain in disgust.

"Keep an eye on the main hatch and the fore scuttle, and we are safe," I added as I returned to the cabin.

CHAPTER XXIV.

IN WHICH PHIL PREPARES FOR A STRUGGLE, AND OPENS THE FORE SCUTTLE.

"Were you asleep, Franklin, when you were overpowered?" I asked.

"No, I was not," he protested, warmly. "I had just been round and looked at the pirates. They were all safe and right, and I sat down on the box near the door which leads between decks. The first thing I knew, the door opened, and Grego had me by the throat. I did the best I could, but against three of them I had no chance."

"What did they do then?" asked Sanderson.

"They let the prisoners loose, and tied me to the stanchion. Then they went between decks, and I suppose they are there now."

We were on the lookout for the conspirators, but we heard nothing of them. I concluded that they were waiting for Martino to open the fore scuttle for them. I thought it was best to let them wait. I had deterred Sanderson from making an onslaught upon the pirates, but I was not yet ready to propose a plan of operations against them. Leaving Sanderson and Palmer at the door of the steerage, I went on deck to consult further with the captain. I was in favor, if possible, of postponing the battle till daylight.

"Phil, you have managed this thing so far, and I think you had better see it through," said Captain York; and there was not a little anxiety manifest in his tones.

"I will do the best I can; but you are the captain of the bark, and if you have any orders to give, I shall obey them, without regard to my own opinions."

"If it were a question of seamanship I could settle it; but you seem to have a talent for this kind of business. I would rather leave it all to you. I will give such orders to the men as you suggest."

I was certainly very much honored and flattered by his confidence; and no modesty on my part could disprove the fact that I had furnished the plan, and performed a leading part in the capture of the vessel.

"It is not of much use to give any orders to the men just now, for most of them are too drunk to do anything," I replied.

"It's going to blow before morning," added Captain York, looking around him at the black sky and the restless ocean.

"Do you mean that we shall have a gale?"

"That's just what I mean. I thought this morning that we should have heavy weather within twenty-four hours."

"It will be a bad time to settle this business then?"

"Yes; the sooner it is over, the better."

"I wanted to wait till daylight before we did anything decisive."

"We haven't hands enough fit for duty to reef the main topsails."

"Very well; then we will have some more hands."

"What do you mean?"

"I am in favor of making Martino, Gorro, and the rest of those piratical seamen do their share of the work. If they won't take hold, they shall take the consequences. I suppose the men will be sober in a few hours."

"Yes; if their rum is all gone. We had better see about that."

We took a lantern and went into the forecastle. We could find no rum there, nor anywhere else. It was probable that they had drank all they possessed, for it was not like them to leave any. We overhauled the drunkards, and found two or three of them who were able to stand up; but that was all.

"Have you any rum here?" demanded the captain, very sternly.

"Not a drop, captain," replied one of those who still had the use of his limbs.

"Where did you get your liquor?"

"Grego gave it to us, and said the captain sent it."

"I suppose you are all ready to go slaving now."

"No, sir!" shouted the speaker and his companions, with energy.

We plied them with questions till we were satisfied that they had not been tampered with. Grego had visited the hold and brought up the rum, without the knowledge of any of the officers. The conspirators had only intended to make the crew drunk; but Martino and Gorro had doubtless drank more than was laid down in the programme.

"The men will be all right as soon as they are sober," said Captain York. "They haven't joined the pirates."

"No; that's plain enough; but in getting drunk they have done almost as badly."

"Well, what shall we do? We may find it necessary to haul up the courses and reef topsails. The bark has about all she can stagger under now, and we haven't hands enough to watch the pirates and handle the vessel at the same time."

"That's very true," I replied.

"I suppose the pirates are only waiting for us to be busy, when they will make their strike. There are seven of them between decks, you know."

"No matter; we can handle them, if we are careful and prudent. They are only waiting for Martino to open the fore scuttle."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know; but from what we have seen of their plan we can judge of the rest. Martino and Gorro were to remain on deck, while the other three sailors were to release the prisoners. The two on deck have evidently overdone their part, as all drunken men are apt to do. I have only to say that, if they had kept sober, and the other seven had reached the deck, the nine might have overpowered us, while nearly all our men were helplessly intoxicated."

"That's so; and we have had a narrow escape."

"Everything seemed to be going along so well, that I suppose we were not as sharp as we ought to have been. But, thank God, we are still in a situation to do something; and we must act at once, instead of waiting till daylight, as I wished."

"What are you going to do?" asked the captain.

"I am going to let a part of the pirates come on deck—say three. We can take care of them very well."

I went into the cabin, and stated my plan to Sanderson. Leaving Palmer in the cabin with a pistol in his hand, and with orders to shoot the first pirate that attempted to enter the cabin, I went on deck with Franklin and the mate. I had no fear that a demonstration would be made upon the cabin from between decks until the battle on deck was ended. I told Walker, who was at the helm, to hail us forward if anything happened in the cabin, and we went upon the forecastle, to grapple in earnest with the emergency.

The wind came in fearful gusts, and the bark was laboring heavily under her present canvas. It was time that the courses were hauled up. I thought so when the vessel heeled down to her rail, and a heavy surge swept over the bow, and rolled down through the scuppers as her head lifted.

"This won't do," said the captain. "It's coming heavier and heavier every minute, and before we finish this business, the masts may be taken out of her. There she goes again."

The bow plunged deep down into the sea, and we took the crest of another billow on board. We were obliged to grasp the fiferail to keep from being carried over into the scuppers. Of course we were all drenched to the skin, and so were the drunken sailors, some of whom were tossed very rudely about by the rushing waters. But the effect upon them was decidedly hopeful. Cold salt water was the antidote of the rum they had drank. I agreed with the captain that we must defer the business to take in sail.

"Stand by to haul up courses!" shouted the captain. "Phil, you stay at the fore scuttle, and let Baxter take hold here."

"Ay, ay, sir!" I replied.

I went to the forecastle, where Baxter, already half drowned by the water which poured in over the top-gallant forecastle, was faithfully keeping guard over the scuttle. He had stretched a life-line across the deck, to enable him to act efficiently; but the hatch was clamped down and toggled with an iron strap, so that it could not be lifted from below; and really there was no danger of an onslaught through this aperture till it was opened by some one on deck. I relieved Baxter, and he joined the working force at the courses. Some of the tipsy crew were sufficiently sobered by the torrents of cold water which the stormy sea had tossed upon them to assist, and the courses were promptly furled.

While I was at my post over the scuttle, I heard a rap from beneath; and I judged that the pirates below were impatient at the unexpected delay. I put my head down to the deck and listened. In a momentary lull of the roaring sea, I heard the name of Martino, in the voice of Waterford; but I made no reply, though I rapped on the deck to signify that he had been heard.

The courses were hauled up, and again the bark was relieved; but the captain was not satisfied, and the fore topsail was also furled. The vessel was then under jib, spanker, and main topsail. The effect was decided and satisfactory. Though the spray still dashed over her, she no longer took the water aboard by the tun. The bark went along very comfortably, still headed on her course to the north-west, for the gale came from the southward and westward.

While I stood at my post, holding on at the life-line, I considered the plan which I had adopted for capturing the pirates. The fore scuttle was forward of the fore mast, and the house on deck just abaft it. The darkness was deep and dense, though sailors are just as much at home in the gloom of the night on deck as in the glare of the noonday sun; for weeks of service on this limited area of planking familiarize them with every inch of space, and every object near them. I had reasoned myself into the belief that the sailors would be sent on deck first when the scuttle was opened, for they belonged to the crew, and their presence would cause no suspicion. They were to strike the first blow, and the others were to follow when it had been done.

As soon as the fore topsail had been furled, Baxter and Sanderson came forward, and reported themselves ready for the next step. The captain soon followed them, for he had been aft to satisfy himself that all was quiet there. There were really only five of us who were entirely reliable for the difficult duty we were to perform. Franklin declared that he was willing to take part in anything; but we had some of the old suspicion of him lingering in our minds.

"You two will station yourselves just inside of the forecastle," I said to Sanderson and Baxter.

"Where shall I go?" asked the captain.

"You and Franklin can be at hand, and if they need any help, you will be able to give it to them. I shall let only three of them come up."

"Then we don't want any help," added Baxter.

"As soon as you have ironed the three, go aft, and see that nothing happens in the cabin."

"Ay, ay," said the party, in a low tone, as they took the stations assigned to them.

I opened the scuttle, and whispered that all was ready. As I had anticipated, the three sailors were the first to obey the summons.

CHAPTER XXV.

IN WHICH PHIL COMPLETES THE VICTORY, AND EMPTIES THE RUM BARRELS.

"Hush!" said I, when the scuttle was opened, in order to impress upon the minds of those below the necessity of great caution, for I was not ready to do any talking with them. Of course I knew nothing of their plans except what I surmised. I had on a heavy pea-jacket, which I had found in the cabin; and dark as it was, I took care to show no more of myself than was necessary. Grego was the first man who came on deck. He said something in Spanish or Portuguese, which I could not understand.

"Aft," I replied, at a venture, muffling my voice so that it should not be recognized.

He went aft, and was immediately followed by the other two sailors, to each of whom I repeated the direction given to the first. The first two paused till the other had joined them, and they began to creep aft with great caution. The head of a fourth man, which I judged to be that of the mate, appeared; but I dropped down the scuttle, clamped and toggled it, as hastily as possible, but without noise.

By this time the three sailors had passed the fore mast, and the crisis had come. They took the weather side of the house on deck, and our three men who had been stationed on the forecastle went after them. Having secured the scuttle, I followed them. At the right time Sanderson and the rest of his party threw themselves upon the pirates, and taking them by surprise, threw them upon the deck, and ironed them before they knew what the matter was.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" pleaded the cowardly pirates.

"Hold still, then," replied Baxter.

They were secured to the weather rail, and Captain York and Franklin hastened to the cabin, as they had been instructed, to meet any demonstration which might be made in that direction. I followed them, but found that there was no appearance of the conspirators in that quarter. We listened for some time, but could hear nothing which indicated a movement of any kind.

"It's all right so far, Phil," said the captain. "You managed that very well."

"It worked better than I expected," I replied. "I dropped the scuttle upon Waterford's head, so that I think it aches somewhat. If he had come on deck with the others, we should not have had so easy a time of it. He is a desperate fellow, and has a pistol, without any doubt."

"There is certainly one pistol among them."

"We will take care that they don't have a chance to use it."

"But there are four of them between decks now," added the captain.

"Yes; and the worst of the battle is yet to be fought."

"We will leave it all to you, Phil."

"Palmer, you will tell Baxter to bring Grego into the cabin. Let Sanderson have an eye to the fore scuttle. Franklin, you will stand by the steerage door, and let us know if you hear any movement in there."

Franklin and the steward left us to execute their orders, and I was alone with the captain.

"What do you want of Grego in the cabin, Phil?" asked Captain York.

"I wish to ascertain more about their plan, if possible," I replied. "If I can find out what was to be done, we may be able to manage the rest of the case better."

"Why do you send for Grego?"

"Because he is the most artful of the five sailors, and the greatest coward. He is the one who provided the rum, and, if I mistake not, the one who has managed the affair for the pirates."

Baxter presently appeared with Grego, whose wrists were ironed behind him.

"Put him on that locker," I continued, as I cocked my revolver, and laid it upon the table at my side.

"Don't shoot me!" pleaded the cowardly wretch.

"That will depend upon yourself. Answer my questions," I added, picking up the pistol.

"I will! I will!" he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the dangerous weapon.

"Who provided the rum for the men?"

"I don't know!" gasped he, lying as if by instinct.

"I see you are not ready to speak the truth," I added, raising the revolver.

"Don't shoot me! Don't shoot me! Madre de Dios!"

"Speak the truth then. Who furnished the rum for the men?"

The Spanish Sailor tells the Truth.

"I did—have mercy upon me!"

"Where did you get the rum?"

"In the hold," stammered he.

"Did the men agree to join you in this mutiny?"

"No, no! We did not ask them to join us."

"Who got up this plot?"

"Martino and myself; but we didn't ask any of your men to help us."

"Why did you give them rum, then?"

"To get them drunk, so that we could handle them."

"How did you get the rum?"

"I went down the fore scuttle, and then down the main hatch into the hold. I helped load the bark, and I knew where the rum was."

"What were Martino and Gorro to do?"

"They were to let us know, through the fore scuttle, when to come on deck."

"Did you give them any rum?"

"Yes; and they took more than enough. We could not keep them from drinking all they wanted."

"What were you to do after you came on deck?"

"All the men forward were too drunk to stand up, and we were to throw ourselves upon the officers, and get the vessel again."

"Did Waterford tell you to do this?" I asked, sharply, as I flourished the pistol.

"We haven't seen him before to-night for a week," he replied, evasively.

I knew this; but I was not satisfied.

"Did Waterford tell you to do this?" I repeated, earnestly.

"We haven't seen him for a week."

"Answer me, or feed the fishes!"

"Madre de Dios!" exclaimed he, his teeth chattering with terror.

"If you don't mean to tell the whole truth, you need not say any more."

"I do! I do! I will tell all I know," he answered, quaking with terror, as he looked into the muzzle of my revolver.

"Then answer me. Did Waterford tell you to do this?"

"Yes."

"When, and where?"

I knew that there had been some concert of action between the pirates and the crew, and those in the steerage, and I was afraid that some of our men had been corrupted.

"I knew where was Mr. Waterford's berth in the steerage, and I talked with him through the bulkhead."

"How could you talk with him through the bulkhead?"

He explained that he had bored a hole through the thin board partition which formed the bulkhead, and arranged the whole plot with Waterford. This confession afforded me great relief, since it assured me that none of the men upon whom we relied had been faithless. Our men, in their anxiety to obtain liquor, had aided the pirate in going between decks, and while they supposed he was simply procuring the rum, he was plotting with Waterford for the recapture of the bark. This was Grego's story. Whether it was true or not I had no means of knowing, though it appeared to be entirely plausible.

"Didn't you promise, and even swear, that you would do your duty, and obey the present officers of the bark, when we set you at liberty?" I continued.

"I did, sir—pardon me!" pleaded he.

"Will you obey the orders of the present officers of the bark?"

"I will, and I call upon La Madre—"

"Don't call upon any one above. You are a liar at heart, and your word is just as good as your oath. Take off his irons, Baxter."

The stout seaman obeyed the order without a question.

"If you don't do just what I tell you, I'll shoot you without any warning. Do you understand me?"

"I do; I will obey you."

I led the way to the deck, and directed Baxter to follow. Going forward, I gathered all our available force, which included half a dozen of the tipplers, who were now steady enough to act with us. I explained what I intended to do, and stationed my men in proper places to perform the work I had for them to do.

"Now, Grego, when the fore scuttle is opened, you will tell Mr. Waterford that all is ready. As soon as he comes on deck, you will lead the way aft towards the cabin. Tell him you have the bark. If you are treacherous I will shoot you."

"I will do just what you tell me," replied the trembling wretch.

I placed him near the scuttle, and told him to open it, while Sanderson and myself dropped down under the top-gallant forecastle. Grego opened the scuttle, precisely as he had been ordered to do; but I was lying on the forecastle, within three feet of him, as he did so.

"All ready, Mr. Waterford. Come on deck," said Grego. "We have the bark."

"What have you been about all this time?" demanded Waterford, angrily and impatiently.

"Come up quick!" urged Grego. "We have the bark."

He did come up quick; and obedient to his orders, Grego led the way towards the cabin. He was closely followed by Captain Farraday, and then by the two Spanish passengers. Waterford had hardly passed beyond the house on deck before the struggle commenced. Our men threw themselves upon the pirates. I heard the report of a pistol, and I trembled when I thought of the mischief the bullet might have done. The struggle was short and decisive, except with Waterford, and I hastened to the assistance of Baxter, who had grappled with him. Before I could do anything, the stout seaman had struck him a blow which silenced him. I did not stop then to inquire whether he was killed or not.

The pirates were ironed, and made fast to the weather rail in the waist. Then I felt that the battle had been fought and won. We had taken the pirates in three different parties, which made the victory comparatively easy.

"What shall we do with them now?" asked the captain.

"Let them rest where they are," I replied. "They have made their own bed; let them sleep in it a while."

"But we must reef the main topsail very soon."

"We have hands enough now to do that, and to take care of our prisoners."

"Then we will do it at once."

The bark was beginning to labor again, as the fury of the gale increased. The spray dashed furiously over the prisoners, and the motion of the vessel wrenched them badly, tied as they were to the rail. Two reefs were taken in the main topsail, and again the vessel was easier. It required two men at the wheel. By the time we had finished our work it was two bells in the mid-watch, or one o'clock in the morning. Most of the crew who had been drunk were in condition to do duty now. They were sorry and ashamed when they realized the mischief to which their inebriation had exposed them, and promised not to drink any more.

We did not regard their promises; but Sanderson and I made our way to the hold, and pulling out the bungs, permitted the contents of the rum barrels to flow into the bottom of the vessel. We felt safe then, and only regretted that we had not done it before, for without rum the mutiny would have been impossible. On my way up I examined the partition between decks, and found the hole which Grego had made.

CHAPTER XXVI.

IN WHICH PHIL REACHES NEW YORK, MEETS THE GRACEWOODS, AND ABANDONS CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE.

It was "all hands on deck" the rest of that night, and the gale came with a fury which I had never seen before. I was second mate of the bark; and, though it was not expected of me, I took the lead in reefing and furling. I was ambitious to do my whole duty, and what I lacked in experience I endeavored to make up in courage and resolution. The captain and the veteran mate gave me a great deal of credit for my exertions, and when the gale broke, I was tolerably well satisfied with myself, as boys of eighteen generally are.

In the midst of the gale we transferred our prisoners to their old quarters in the steerage, tied them as before, and placed a guard over them. Captain Farraday said nothing, and seemed to be mourning the loss of his rum. Waterford was sullen and silent; and I thought he had abandoned all hope of escaping his fate, which was nothing less than the penitentiary for a long term. The two Spanish gentlemen seemed to take their lot more hardly than the others. They offered money, and everything else they had to offer, if we would land them at one of the West India or the Madeira Islands.

At noon the next day the gale broke, and after the storm came a calm. We were glad of the quiet which followed, and within the next twenty-four hours there was a great deal of heavy sleeping done on board of the Michigan. We released the five Spanish and Portuguese sailors, though without much regard to the solemn promises they made us; for with the rum had gone their power to do mischief on board of the vessel. We watched them closely, but we made them work.

"I ought to have let you leave the bark, Phil, when you wanted to do so," said Waterford, as I called down to see the prisoners after the gale.

"That was your blunder; and I have made more out of it than you have," I replied.

"I suppose you have divided the money before this time."

"No; we mean to be honest men; and we shall hand everything over to the government officers."

"That don't include your fifteen hundred dollars—does it?"

"No; what is mine belongs to me, and the government officers have nothing to do with my money, any more than they have with my clothes," I answered.

"There is gold in my trunk to the amount of about eight thousand dollars," he continued.

"I know there is. Where did you get that gold, Waterford?"

"I bought it in St. Louis."

"With the money obtained on the forged checks?"

"Yes; I spoke for the gold at a broker's, and he had it all ready for me. Then I presented my checks, and in less than fifteen minutes after they were paid, I was on my way out of the city. My plans would have worked well, if you had not crossed my path."

"Then the gold really belongs to the banks who paid the forged checks?"

"I suppose so. I have nothing more to expect in this world, and I don't care what becomes of it."

I did not tell him that he had nothing to expect in the next world, any more than in this, but that was the thought in my mind. His failure to recover the bark had completely disheartened him, and, like others whom I had seen under similar circumstances, he appeared to find relief in confessing his error, or at least in pointing out the cause of the miscarriage of his plans.

"Did you intend to rob me when you left St. Louis?" I asked.

"No; not exactly, though I knew you had the gold. I was afraid you would see and recognize me. I watched you closely, without being seen myself. I went to your trunk, and took your money when you were on the hurricane deck of the steamer. I had decided to go mate of this vessel, and went from New York to St. Louis to raise the money to enable me to buy some negroes on my own account. I wanted all I could get, and your gold was very convenient. I should have made a fortune out of this voyage, and then I intended to go to Chicago, marry Marian Collingsby, and be happy. You have spoiled my plan, and I have given up in despair."

"The plan was too wicked to succeed, even if you had not seen me. If you had made your fortune out of the flesh and blood of your fellow-beings, you would never have been happy with it; and Marian would have married a boa constrictor rather than you. Men may seem to succeed, but God never permits them really to do so, in such schemes."

"I am not quite ready to listen to any cant yet; I may be by and by," said he, bitterly. "You thwarted me once before, and I hated you. I came with you all the way from Parkersburg. I wanted you in the same vessel with me, for I knew, as you had lost your money, you must either work your passage or return to St. Louis. When I met Captain Farraday, I set him at work upon you, and succeeded in getting you on board of the vessel. I wanted to punish you; but the tables are turned upon me, and you are punishing me."

"I have no wish to punish you. For all the injury you have done me, and have tried to do me, I forgive you."

"Will you let me escape?"

"No; I have a duty to the community which will not permit me to do that."

"I don't understand your kind of forgiveness—that which would send a man to prison for ten or twenty years."

"I can forgive the personal wrong you have done me, but I have no right to throw a pirate upon the community—one who is willing to steal the child from his father, the wife from her husband."

"There's no use in talking," he added, hopelessly.

"Certainly not, if you expect to escape through my agency."

I left him; and I felt that crime was pretty sure of its punishment, even in this world.

But my story is really told. The rest of our passage was comfortable and pleasant, and at daylight one morning in May, we came in sight of Sandy Hook. We had all our prisoners safe, and our voyage was ended. We took a pilot, and, as we were going through the Narrows, we overhauled a handsome clipper ship, which had been in sight since daybreak. The Michigan outsailed her; and, as we came up, I was surprised and delighted to see upon her stern the word "Bayard," for this was the ship in which the Gracewoods were to come home. I saw upon her quarter-deck a gentleman and two ladies. One of them must be Ella, and my heart was thrilled at the discovery. But how tall she had grown! We took the ship's wind, and went by her. I hailed the party by name, and shouted my own. Though they responded to my signals, I concluded that they did not recognize me.

We ran up the bay, and anchored off the Battery, near where the revenue cutter lay. Captain York, at my request, sent me on shore to give information of the state of affairs on board to the proper authorities. I found the United States marshal, and told my story in detail. He sent a force to take possession of the vessel, and secure the prisoners. Captain Farraday, Waterford, and the two Spanish passengers were taken to the Tombs. Martino and his fellow-pirates were not arrested; they were too small game. In the cabin nearly fifty thousand dollars in gold was found; but I put in a claim for that in Waterford's trunk on behalf of the banks of St. Louis which had paid the forged checks. The present officers and crew were directed to hold themselves in readiness to attend the examination of the slave traders.

The Bayard came up the harbor and anchored. As soon as I could leave the Michigan, I hastened on board of her. The Gracewoods were going on shore; but such a welcome as they extended to me gladdened my heart. Ella gave me both hands, and blushed like a June rose. She had not only grown tall, but handsome; and I was glad to know that she still regarded me as kindly as ever. The health of Mrs. Gracewood was completely restored, and my excellent friend and instructor seemed to have grown younger since we parted four years before. I went on shore with them, and it seemed to me I had never been so happy in my life. I told Ella I was second mate of the bark, and she expressed her astonishment so prettily that I felt rewarded for all the trials and discouragements of the voyage, as well as for its triumphs. I went to the hotel with my friends, and spent the rest of the day with them, talking over the events of the past.

The slaveholders were examined and committed for trial. The bark was taken possession of by the authorities, and the crew discharged. The name and address of each man were taken, for they were deemed to be entitled to a share in "the moiety of the vessel and her lading," after she had been condemned and sold. I found my gold safe, and of course I did not leave it in the bark. As we were not required for some time in New York, I went to St. Louis with the Gracewoods. My father gave me a warm welcome, of course, and so did all my other friends.

"I did not expect you back so soon, Philip," said he.

"O, I have only come back on a visit. I must go again in a short time; for I intend to see my mother, if possible, before the summer is ended," I replied, lightly.

"I suppose you consider yourself a sailor now."

"I ought to be; I came home second mate of the bark Michigan. I can hand, reef, and steer; make a short splice, a long splice, an eye splice, a cringle, a Turk's head; can worm, serve, and parcel."

"You have a briny look, as though you had just escaped from a pickle barrel."

"O, I'm as salt as a red herring."

"I hope you have had enough of the sea."

"Enough as a sailor before the mast; but if ever I am a rich man, I intend to have a yacht, and go round the world in her."

"I'm afraid you will never be rich enough to do that."

"If I am not I will not complain."

"You didn't make much on this cruise," laughed my father.

"In money probably two or three thousand dollars, and in experience and knowledge as much more."

I explained my plans and views to my father; but as I intended to go to Europe by steamer, as soon as I could get rid of the trial of the slave traders, he offered no objection. I remained in St. Louis a week, when the United States marshal wrote for me to appear in New York. Before I went, I called on my friend Mr. Lamar, and told him all about Waterford; and when I started, an agent of the banks went with me to claim the money which the pirate had obtained from them by forgery. This claim was established and allowed, and the loss of the banks was made good to them. The trial of the slavers came on sooner than I had reason to expect, and they were sentenced to three years' imprisonment—which I thought was a very mild punishment.

The bark was condemned and sold, with all her stores and cargo, and, including my share of the Spaniards' money, which was regarded as part of the "lading," I had the handsome sum of twenty-five hundred dollars. As we all fared alike in the division, my shipmates were willing to acknowledge that, even in a pecuniary point of view, it was better to do right than to do wrong. Sanderson and Baxter kept sober after they went on shore, and both of them are now temperance men. Baxter is chief mate of a large Indiaman, and Sanderson has retired to a little farm in Maine, which he bought with his share of the prize-money. Of the rest of the crew I know nothing; but I suppose most of them kept drunk till they had spent all their money, or had been robbed of what they did not spend, and then went to sea again; but I will venture to say that none of them ever voluntarily served in a slave ship.

I was prepared for more sea swashes, for I liked the sea. I was ready to sail for Europe as a passenger in a steamer. I hoped soon to find my mother, and unite our little family under one roof in St. Louis. And so, for a time, I abandoned Cringle and Cross-tree.

THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES.

1. Field and Forest; or, The Fortunes of a Farmer.

2. Plane and Plank; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic.

3. Desk and Debit; or, The Catastrophes of a Clerk.

4. Cringle and Cross-Tree; or, The Sea Swashes of a Sailor.

IN PREPARATION.

5. Bivouac and Battle; or, The Struggles of a Soldier.

6. Sea and Shore; or, The Tramps of a Traveller.

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Table of Contents

- CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;

- THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.

- PREFACE.

- CONTENTS.

- CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE;

- THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.

- CHAPTER I.

- IN WHICH PHIL TALKS OF GOING TO SEA, AND MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

- CHAPTER II.

- IN WHICH PHIL STARTS FOR NEW YORK, AND IS STOPPED ON THE WAY.

- CHAPTER III.

- IN WHICH PHIL GOES EAST, AND MEETS CAPTAIN FARRADAY.

- CHAPTER IV.

- IN WHICH PHIL VISITS THE BARK MICHIGAN, AND LOOKS AFTER HIS FINANCES.

- CHAPTER V.

- IN WHICH PHIL MORALIZES OVER HIS LOSS, AND HEARS FROM ST. LOUIS.

- CHAPTER VI.

- IN WHICH PHIL SIGNS THE SHIPPING PAPERS AND RECOGNIZES THE NEW MATE.

- CHAPTER VII.

- IN WHICH PHIL ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE FROM THE BARK MICHIGAN.

- CHAPTER VIII.

- IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER, AND FINDS SOMETHING ELSE.

- CHAPTER IX.

- IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF RATED AS AN ABLE SEAMAN IN THE PORT WATCH.

- CHAPTER X.

- IN WHICH PHIL STANDS HIS WATCH, AND TAKES HIS TRICK AT THE WHEEL.

- CHAPTER XI.

- IN WHICH PHIL MAKES A CRINGLE, AND VISITS THE CROSS-TREES.

- CHAPTER XII.

- IN WHICH PHIL ASCERTAINS THE DESTINATION OF THE MICHIGAN.

- CHAPTER XIII.

- IN WHICH PHIL GOES AFT, WITH OTHERS OF THE CREW, AND THEN GOES FORWARD.

- CHAPTER XIV.

- IN WHICH PHIL SPEAKS FOR TRUTH AND JUSTICE, AND A SAIL IS DISCOVERED.

- CHAPTER XV.

- IN WHICH PHIL IS ASSIGNED TO AN IMPORTANT POSITION BY HIS SHIPMATES.

- CHAPTER XVI.

- IN WHICH PHIL FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER IN THE STEERAGE.

- CHAPTER XVII.

- IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CABIN STEWARD.

- CHAPTER XVIII.

- IN WHICH PHIL AND OTHERS VISIT THE CABIN OF THE BARK.

- CHAPTER XIX.

- IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS OBTAIN POSSESSION OF THE MICHIGAN.

- CHAPTER XX.

- IN WHICH PHIL ARGUES A POINT WITH WATERFORD, AND MOUNTS GUARD IN THE STEERAGE.

- CHAPTER XXI.

- IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES SECOND MATE OF THE MICHIGAN.

- CHAPTER XXII.

- IN WHICH PHIL LAYS DOWN THE LAW, AND IS AFTERWARDS MUCH ALARMED.

- CHAPTER XXIII.

- IN WHICH PHIL COUNSELS PRUDENCE, AND RESORTS TO STRATEGY.

- CHAPTER XXIV.

- IN WHICH PHIL PREPARES FOR A STRUGGLE, AND OPENS THE FORE SCUTTLE.

- CHAPTER XXV.

- IN WHICH PHIL COMPLETES THE VICTORY, AND EMPTIES THE RUM BARRELS.

- CHAPTER XXVI.

- IN WHICH PHIL REACHES NEW YORK, MEETS THE GRACEWOODS, AND ABANDONS CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE