Cast Upon the Breakers

“You are not the only railroad friend I have met this morning.”

“Who was the other?”

“The gentleman who obligingly took care of my jewel box for a short time.”

“You don’t mean to say you have met him? Where did you come across him?”

“In front of the Astor House, almost two hours since.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“He spoke to me. You will be glad to hear that he has recovered his own casket of jewels.”

Adin Woods smiled.

“He must think you are easily imposed upon,” he said, “to believe any such story. Anything more?”

“He said his friends would be very much surprised to hear that he had been suspected of theft.”

“So he wanted to clear himself with you?”

“Yes; he asked where I was staying.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him.”

“I only said I was at a boarding house on West Fourteenth Street, but didn’t mention the number.”

“He thinks you have the casket with you, and that he may get possession of it. It is well that you stored it at Tiffany’s.”

“I think so. Now I have no anxiety about it. Do you think he will find out where we live?”

“Probably, as you gave him a clew. But, Rodney, it is about lunch time, and I confess I have an appetite. Come and lunch with me.”

“But I am afraid, Mr. Woods, I shall not be able to return the compliment.”

“There is no occasion for it. I feel in good humor this morning. I have sold one lot, and have hopes of disposing of another. The one lot pays me a commission of twenty dollars.”

“I wish I could make twenty dollars in a week.”

“Sometimes I only sell one lot in a week. It isn’t like a regular business. It is precarious. Still, take the year through and I make a pretty good income. Come in here. We can get a good lunch here,” and he led the way into a modest restaurant, not far from the site of the old post office, which will be remembered by those whose residence in New York dates back twenty years or more.

“Now we will have a nice lunch,” said the agent. “I hope you can do justice to it.”

“I generally can,” responded Rodney, smiling. “I am seldom troubled with a poor appetite.”

“Ditto for me. Now what have you been doing this morning?”

“Looking for a place.”

“With what success?”

“Pretty good if I had only been earlier.”

Rodney told the story of his application to the manager of the railroad office.

“You will know better next time. I think you’ll succeed. I did. When I came to New York at the age of twenty two I had only fifty dollars. That small sum had to last me twelve weeks. You can judge that I didn’t live on the fat of the land during that time. I couldn’t often eat at Delmonico’s. Even Beefsteak John’s would have been too expensive for me. However, those old days are over.”

The next day and the two following Rodney went about the city making application for positions, but every place seemed full.

On the third day Mr. Woods said, “I shall have to leave you for a week or more, Rodney.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Philadelphia. There’s a man there who is a capitalist and likes land investments. I am going to visit him, and hope to sell him several lots. He once lived in this city, so he won’t object to New York investments.”

“I hope you will succeed, Mr. Woods. I think if you are going away I had better give up the room, and find cheaper accommodations. I am getting near the end of my money.”

“You are right. It is best to be prudent.”

That evening Rodney found a room which he could rent for two dollars a week. He estimated that by economy he could get along for fifty cents a day for his eating, and that would be a decided saving.

He was just leaving the house the next morning, gripsack in hand, when on the steps he met Louis Wheeler, his acquaintance of the train.

“Where are you going?” asked Wheeler.

“I am leaving this house. I have hired a room elsewhere.”

Wheeler’s countenance fell, and he looked dismayed.

“Why, I have just taken a room here for a week,” he said.

“You will find it a good place.”

“But—I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t thought I should have company.”

“I ought to feel complimented.”

Rodney was convinced that Wheeler had come in the hopes of stealing the casket of jewels a second time, and he felt amused at the fellow’s discomfiture.

“You haven’t got your jewel box with you?”

“No, I can take that another time.”

“Then it’s still in the house,” thought Wheeler with satisfaction. “It won’t be my fault if I don’t get it in my hands. Well, good morning,” he said. “Come around and call on me.”

“Thank you!”

CHAPTER VII

AT THE NEWSBOY’S LODGING HOUSE

Within a week Rodney had spent all his money, with the exception of about fifty cents. He had made every effort to obtain a place, but without success.

Boys born and bred in New York have within my observation tried for months to secure a position in vain, so it is not surprising that Rodney who was a stranger proved equally unsuccessful.

Though naturally hopeful Rodney became despondent.

“There seems to be no place for me,” he said to himself. “When I was at boarding school I had no idea how difficult it is for a boy to earn a living.”

He had one resource. He could withdraw the box of jewels from Tiffany’s, and sell some article that it contained. But this he had a great objection to doing. One thing was evident however, he must do something.

His friend, the lot agent, was out of town, and he hardly knew whom to advise with. At last Mike Flynn, the friendly bootblack, whose acquaintance he had made in front of the Astor House, occurred to him.

Mike, humble as he was, was better off than himself. Moreover he was a New York boy, and knew more about “hustling” than Rodney did. So he sought out Mike in his “office.”

“Good morning, Mike,” said Rodney, as the bootblack was brushing off a customer.

“Oh, its you, Rodney,” said Mike smiling with evident pleasure. “How you’re gettin’ on?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s bad. Can I help you? Just say the word, and I’ll draw a check for you on the Park Bank.”

“Is that where you keep your money?”

“It’s one of my banks. You don’t think I’d put all my spondulics in one bank, do you?”

“I won’t trouble you to draw a check this morning. I only want to ask some advice.”

“I’ve got plenty of that.”

“I haven’t been able to get anything to do, and I have only fifty cents left. I can’t go on like that.”

“That’s so.”

“I’ve got to give up my room on Fourteenth Street. I can’t pay for it any longer. Do you think I could get in at the Lodge?”

“Yes. I’ll introduce you to Mr. O’Connor.”

“When shall I meet you?”

“At five o’clock. We’ll be in time for supper.”

“All right.”

At five o’clock Mike accompanied Rodney to the large Newsboys’ Lodging House on New Chambers Street. Mr. O’Connor, the popular and efficient superintendent, now dead, looked in surprise at Mike’s companion. He was a stout man with a kindly face, and Rodney felt that he would prove to be a friend.

“Mr. O’Connor, let me introduce me friend, Mr. Rodney Ropes,” said Mike.

“Could you give me a lodging?” asked Rodney in an embarrassed tone.

“Yes; but I am surprised to see a boy of your appearance here.”

“I am surprised to be here myself,” admitted Rodney.

The superintendent fixed upon him a shrewd, but kindly glance.

“Have you run away from home?” he asked.

“No, sir. It is my home that has run away from me.”

“Have you parents?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you come from the country?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where have you been living?”

“At a boarding school a few hours from New York.”

“Why did you leave it?”

“Because my guardian sent me word that he had lost my fortune, and could no longer pay my bills.”

“You have been unfortunate truly. What do you propose to do now?”

“Earn my living if I can. I have been in the city for about two weeks, and have applied at a good many places but in vain.”

“Then you were right in coming here. Supper is ready, and although it is not what you are used to, it will satisfy hunger. Mike, you can take Rodney with you.”

Within five minutes Rodney was standing at a long table with a bowl of coffee and a segment of bread before him. It wouldn’t have been attractive to one brought up to good living, as was the case with him, but he was hungry.

He had eaten nothing since morning except an apple which he had bought at a street stand for a penny, and his stomach urgently craved a fresh supply of food.

Mike stood next to him. The young bootblack, who was used to nothing better, ate his portion with zest, and glanced askance at Rodney to see how he relished his supper. He was surprised to see that his more aristocratic companion seemed to enjoy it quite as much as himself.

“I didn’t think you’d like it,” he said.

“Anything tastes good when you’re hungry, Mike.”

“That’s so.”

“And I haven’t eaten anything except an apple, since morning.”

“Is dat so? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have stood treat at de Boss Tweed eatin’ house.”

“I had money, but I didn’t dare to spend it. I was afraid of having nothing left.”

When Rodney had eaten his supper he felt that he could have eaten more, but the craving was satisfied and he felt relieved.

He looked around him with some curiosity, for he had never been in such a motley gathering before. There were perhaps one hundred and fifty boys recruited from the street, to about all of whom except himself the term street Arab might be applied.

The majority of them had the shrewd and good humored Celtic face. Many of them were fun loving and even mischievous, but scarcely any were really bad.

Naturally Rodney, with his good clothes, attracted attention. The boys felt that he was not one of them, and they had a suspicion that he felt above them.

“Get on to de dude!” remarked one boy, who was loosely attired in a ragged shirt and tattered trousers.

“He means me, Mike,” said Rodney with a smile.

“I say, Patsy Glenn, what do you mean by callin’ me friend Rodney a dude?” demanded Mike angrily.

“Coz he’s got a dandy suit on.”

“What if he has? Wouldn’t you wear one like it if you could!”

“You bet!”

“Then just let him alone! He’s just got back from de inauguration.”

“Where’d you pick him up, Mike?”

“Never mind! He’s one of us. How much money have you got in your pocket Rodney?”

“Thirty two cents.”

“He can’t put on no frills wid dat money.”

“That’s so. I take it all back,” and Patsy offered a begrimed hand to Rodney, which the latter shook heartily with a pleasant smile.

That turned the tide in favor of Rodney, the boys gathered around him and he told his story in a few words.

“I used to be rich, boys,” he said, “but my guardian spent all my money, and now I am as poor as any of you.”

“You’d ought to have had me for your guardian, Rodney,” observed Mike.

“I wish you had. You wouldn’t have lost my money for me.”

“True for you! I say so, boys, if we can find Rodney’s guardian, what’ll we do to him?”

“Give him de grand bounce,” suggested Patsy.

“Drop him out of a high winder,” said another.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t care to tell you, boys. He’s written me a letter, saying he will try to pay me back some day. I think he will. He isn’t a bad man, but he has been unlucky.”

Mike, at the request of Mr. O’Connor, showed Rodney a locker in which he could store such articles of clothing as he had with him. After that he felt more at home, and as if he were staying at a hotel though an humble one.

At eight o’clock some of the boys had already gone to bed, but Mike and Rodney were among those who remained up. Rodney noticed with what kindness yet fairness the superintendent managed his unruly flock. Unruly they might have been with a different man, but he had no trouble in keeping them within bounds.

It was at this time that two strangers were announced, one a New York merchant named Goodnow, the other a tall, slender man with sandy whiskers of the mutton chop pattern.

“Good evening, Mr. Goodnow,” said the superintendent, who recognized the merchant as a friend of the society.

“Good evening, Mr. O’Connor. I have brought my friend and correspondent Mr. Mulgrave, of London, to see some of your young Arabs.”

“I shall be glad to give him all the opportunity he desires.”

The Englishman looked curiously at the faces of the boys who in turn were examining him with equal interest.

“They are not unlike our boys of a similar grade, but seem sharper and more intelligent,” he said. “But surely,” pointing to Rodney, “that boy is not one of the—Arabs. Why, he looks like a young gentleman.”

“He is a new comer. He only appeared tonight.”

“He must have a history. May I speak with him?”

“By all means. Rodney, this gentleman would like to talk with you.”

Rodney came forward with the ease of a boy who was accustomed to good society, and said: “I shall be very happy to speak with him.”

CHAPTER VIII

RODNEY FINDS A PLACE

“Surely,” said the Englishman, “you were not brought up in the street?”

“Oh, no,” answered Rodney, “I was more fortunate.”

“Then how does it happen that I find you here—among the needy boys of the city?”

“Because I am needy, too.”

“But you were not always poor?”

“No; I inherited a moderate fortune from my father. It was only within a short time that I learned from my guardian that it was lost. I left the boarding school where I was being educated, and came to the city to try to make a living.”

“But surely your guardian would try to provide for you?”

“He is no longer in the city.”

“Who was he?” asked Otis Goodnow.

“Mr. Benjamin Fielding.”

“Is it possible? Why, I lost three thousand dollars by him. He has treated you shamefully.”

“It was not intentional, I am sure,” said Rodney. “He was probably drawn into using my money by the hope of retrieving himself. He wrote me that he hoped at some time to make restitution.”

“You speak of him generously, my lad,” said Mr. Mulgrave. “Yet he has brought you to absolute poverty.”

“Yes, sir, and I won’t pretend that it is not a hard trial to me, but if I can get a chance to earn my own living, I will not complain.”

“Goodnow, a word with you,” said the Englishman, and he drew his friend aside. “Can’t you make room for this boy in your establishment?”

Otis Goodnow hesitated. “At present there is no vacancy,” he said.

“Make room for him, and draw upon me for his wages for the first six months.”

“I will do so, but before the end of that time I am sure he will justify my paying him out of my own pocket.”

There was a little further conference, and then the two gentlemen came up to where Rodney was standing with Mr. O’Connor.

“My boy,” said Mr. Mulgrave, “my friend here will give you a place at five dollars a week. Will that satisfy you?”

Rodney’s face flushed with pleasure.

“It will make me very happy,” he said.

“Come round to my warehouse—here is my business card—tomorrow morning,” said the merchant. “Ask to see me.”

“At what time shall I call, sir?”

“At half past nine o’clock. That is for the first morning. When you get to work you will have to be there at eight.”

“There will be no trouble about that, sir.”

“Now it is my turn,” said the Englishman. “Here are five dollars to keep you till your first week’s wages come due. I dare say you will find them useful.”

“Thank you very much, sir. I was almost out of money.”

After the two gentlemen left the Lodging House Rodney looked at the card and found that his new place of employment was situated on Reade Street not far from Broadway.

“It’s you that’s in luck, Rodney,” said his friend Mike. “Who’d think that a gentleman would come to the Lodging House to give you a place?”

“Yes, I am in luck, Mike, and now I’m going to make you a proposal.”

“What is it?”

“Why can’t we take a room together? It will be better than living here.”

“Sure you wouldn’t room with a poor boy like me?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You are a good friend, and I should like your company. Besides I mean to help you get an education. I suppose you’re not a first class scholar, Mike?”

“About fourth class, I guess, Rodney.”

“Then you shall study with me. Then when you know a little more you may get a chance to get out of your present business, and get into a store.”

“That will be bully!” said Mike with pleasure.

“Now we’d better go to bed; I must be up bright and early in the morning. We’ll engage a room before I go to work.”

There was no difficulty about rising early. It is one of the rules of the Lodging House for the boys to rise at six o’clock, and after a frugal breakfast of coffee and rolls they are expected to go out to their business whatever it may be. Mike and Rodney dispensed with the regulation breakfast and went out to a restaurant on Park Row where they fared better.

“Now where shall we go for a room?” asked Rodney.

“There’s a feller I know has a good room on Bleecker Street,” said Mike.

“How far is that?”

“A little more’n a mile.”

“All right! Let us go and see.”

Bleecker Street once stood in better repute than at present. It is said that A. T. Stewart once made his home there. Now it is given over to shops and cheap lodging houses.

Finally the boys found a room decently furnished, about ten feet square, of which the rental was two dollars and a half per week. Mike succeeded in beating down the lodging house keeper to two dollars, and at that figure they engaged it.

“When will you come?” asked Mrs. McCarty.

“Right off,” said Mike.

“I’ll need a little time to put it in order.”

“Me and my partner will be at our business till six o’clock,” returned Mike.

“You can send in your trunks during the day if you like.”

“My trunk is at the Windsor Hotel,” said Mike. “I’ve lent it to a friend for a few days.”

Mrs. McCarty looked at Mike with a puzzled expression. She was one of those women who are slow to comprehend a joke, and she could not quite make it seem natural that her new lodger, who was in rather neglige costume, should be a guest at a fashionable hotel.

“I will leave my valise,” said Rodney, “and will send for my trunk. It is in the country.”

Mike looked at him, not feeling quite certain whether he was in earnest, but Rodney was perfectly serious.

“You’re better off than me,” said Mike, when they reached the street. “If I had a trunk I wouldn’t have anything to put into it.”

“I’ll see if I can’t rig you out, Mike. I’ve got a good many clothes, bought when I was rich. You and I are about the same size. I’ll give you a suit of clothes to wear on Sundays.”

“Will you?” exclaimed Mike, his face showing pleasure. “I’d like to see how I look in good clo’es. I never wore any yet. It wouldn’t do no good in my business.”

“You won’t want to wear them when at work. But wouldn’t you like to change your business?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“What’d be the use of tryin’? They’d know I was a bootblack in these clo’es.”

“When you wear a better suit you can go round and try your luck.”

“I’d like to,” said Mike wistfully. “I don’t want you to tell at the store that you room with a bootblack.”

“It isn’t that I think of, Mike. I want you to do better. I’m going to make a man of you.”

“I hope you are. Sometimes I’ve thought I’d have to be a bootblack always. When do you think you’ll get the clo’es?”

“I shall write to the principal of the boarding school at once, asking him to forward my trunk by express. I want to economize a little this week, and shall have to pay the express charges.”

“I’ll pay up my part of the rent, Rodney, a quarter a day.”

Rodney had advanced the whole sum, as Mike was not in funds.

“If you can’t pay a dollar a week I will pay a little more than half.”

“There ain’t no need. I’ll pay my half and be glad to have a nice room.”

“I’ve got three or four pictures at the school, and some books. I’ll send for them later on, and we’ll fix up the room.”

“Will you? We’ll have a reg’lar bang up place. I tell you that’ll be better than livin’ at the Lodge.”

“Still that seems a very neat place. It is lucky for poor boys that they can get lodging so cheap.”

“But it isn’t like havin’ a room of your own, Rodney. I say, when we’re all fixed I’ll ask some of me friends to come in some evenin’ and take a look at us. They’ll be s’prised.”

“Certainly, Mike. I shall be glad to see any of your friends.”

It may seem strange that Rodney, carefully as he had been brought up, should have made a companion of Mike, but he recognized in the warm hearted Irish boy, illiterate as he was, sterling qualities, and he felt desirous of helping to educate him. He knew that he could always depend on his devoted friendship, and looked forward with pleasure to their more intimate companionship.

After selecting their room and making arrangements to take possession of it, the boys went down town. Rodney stepped into the reading room at the Astor House and wrote the following letter to Dr. Sampson:

DR. PLINY SAMPSON:

DEAR SIR—Will you be kind enough to send my trunk by express to No. 312 Bleecker Street? I have taken a room there, and that will be my home for the present. I have obtained a position in a wholesale house on Reade Street, and hope I may give satisfaction. Will you remember me with best wishes to all the boys? I don’t expect to have so easy or pleasant a time as I had at school, but I hope to get on, and some time—perhaps in the summer—to make you a short visit.

Yours truly, RODNEY ROPES.

CHAPTER IX

THE FIRST DAY AT WORK

A little before half past nine Rodney paused in front of a large five story building on Reade Street occupied by Otis Goodnow.

He entered and found the first floor occupied by quite a large number of clerks and salesmen, and well filled with goods.

“Well, young fellow, what can I do for you?” asked a dapper looking clerk.

“I would like to see Mr. Goodnow.”

“He’s reading his letters. He won’t see you.”

Rodney was provoked.

“Do you decide who is to see him?” he asked.

“You’re impudent, young feller.”

“Am I? Perhaps you will allow Mr. Goodnow to see me, as long as he told me to call here this morning.”

“That’s a different thing,” returned the other in a different tone. “If you’re sure about that you can go to the office in the back part of the room.”

Rodney followed directions and found himself at the entrance of a room which had been partitioned off for the use of the head of the firm.

Mr. Goodnow was seated at a desk with his back to him, and was employed in opening letters. Without turning round he said, “Sit down and I will attend to you in a few minutes.”

Rodney seated himself on a chair near the door. In about ten minutes Mr. Goodnow turned around.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Perhaps you remember telling me to call at half past nine. You saw me at the Newsboys’ Lodging House.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. I promised my friend Mulgrave that I would give you a place. What can you do? Are you a good writer?”

“Shall I give you a specimen of my handwriting?”

“Yes; sit down at that desk.”

It was a desk adjoining his own.

Rodney seated himself and wrote in a firm, clear, neat hand:

“I will endeavor to give satisfaction, if you are kind enough to give me a place in your establishment.”

Then he passed over the paper to the merchant.

“Ah, very good!” said Mr. Goodnow approvingly. “You won’t be expected to do any writing yet but I like to take into my store those who are qualified for promotion.”

He rang a little bell on his desk.

A boy about two years older than Rodney answered the summons.

“Send Mr. James here,” said the merchant.

Mr. James, a sandy complexioned man, partially bald, made his appearance.

“Mr. James,” said the merchant, “I have taken this boy into my employ. I don’t know if one is needed, but it is at the request of a friend. You can send him on errands, or employ him in any other way.”

“Very well, sir. I can find something for him to do today at any rate, as young Johnson hasn’t shown up.”