Nelson The Newsboy

"Then there may be hope for me, Mrs. Conroy?"

"Certainly there is hope," put in Homer Bulson, with a hypocritical smile.

"I'll do my best by you, sir," said Mrs. Conroy pleasantly.

"Thank you."

"You had better give my uncle a little wine," put in Bulson. "He needs it as a tonic."

"I do not care much for the wine," said Mark Horton. "It does not seem to strengthen as it should."

"You would be weaker still if you didn't have it, uncle."

The wine was brought and the retired merchant took a small glass of it.

"Won't you drink with me, Homer?" asked the invalid.

"Thank you, uncle, but I bought this especially for your own use, and you must have it all."

A private conversation, lasting the best part of an hour, followed, and then Bulson took his leave.

When Bulson was gone Mrs. Conroy came in again, having been to the room assigned to her by the housekeeper. She found the retired merchant sitting with his chin in his hands, gazing moodily into the small grate fire which was burning before him.

"Is there anything I can do for your comfort, Mr. Horton?" she questioned sympathetically.

"I don't know," he returned, with a long drawn sigh.

"Perhaps I can read the paper to you?" she suggested.

"No; I don't care to listen. I am tired."

"Would you like to retire?"

"Not yet. I cannot sleep."

"Have you any medicine to put you to sleep, sir? I must ask the doctor all particulars to-morrow."

"He has given me some powders, but they do not help me. At times my brain seems to be on fire while my heart is icy cold."

"Let me shake your pillows for you." She did so, and tried to make him otherwise comfortable.

"Thank you, that is better," he remarked, as he sank back and closed his eyes. "It is hard to be alone in the world."

"You are alone then."

"Almost. Mr. Bulson, who was just here, is my nephew. My wife is dead, my son gone, and my niece, who lived with me up to a few months ago, has left me."

"It is too bad."

"In one way it is my own fault. I drove my niece from my house by my harshness. I sincerely wish she was back."

"If it was your fault, as you say, why not send for her?"

"I do not know where to send. Mr. Bulson heard she went to Boston, and he is going to advertise for her in some Boston papers. Poor Gertrude!"

"That was her name?"

"Yes, Gertrude Horton. She was my brother's child. I wanted her to marry my nephew, and we had a bitter quarrel, and after that there was a robbery, and—but I am satisfied now that Gertrude was innocent."

"Why, it seems to me I've heard something of this before!" exclaimed the nurse. "The story came to me through a friend who knows an old woman who keeps a fruit-and-candy stand on the Bowery. She said the girl was driven away from home because her uncle wanted her to marry a man she didn't want, and because the uncle thought she had robbed his safe—she and a boy who happened to call at the house about that time."

"It must be my Gertrude!" said Mark Horton. "And did she marry that actor fellow?"

"He wasn't an actor. He's a newsdealer—keeps a stand with a man, somewhere uptown; and he's not old enough to marry."

"And the girl—what of her?"

"I heard she was supporting herself by teaching the piano."

"Is it possible! Do you know where she is?"

"I don't know. But I think I can find out."

"Then you must do so—to-morrow morning," returned Mark Horton. "Gertrude may still be in New York! Pray Heaven she will come back to me!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

NELSON ON SHIPBOARD

Nelson was tending the stand on the morning following the conversation just recorded, when suddenly Paul Randall came running up, all out of breath.

"I just saw Billy Darnley," gasped the little newsboy, when able to speak.

"Where did you see him?" questioned Nelson quickly.

"Right straight across town, on the East River. He was talking to the captain of a big schooner named the Victory. I guess he was wanting to ship in her."

"Tend the stand, Paul, and I'll go after him," said Nelson, and leaped outside. Soon he was making his way toward the East River with all possible speed.

When he came in sight of the docks half a dozen vessels met his view, all with their bows stuck far over into the street. Of a sailor standing near he asked which was the Victory.

"There she is," answered the tar, pointing with his sunburnt hand. "Want to ship?"

"Not much!" laughed Nelson. "I want to keep another fellow from shipping."

"Then you'll have to hurry, for the Victory is going to sail putty quick."

Nelson was soon picking his way across the dock where the big schooner lay. Merchandise was on every hand, and on turning a pile of this he suddenly found himself face to face with Billy Darnley and a burly man dressed in a sea suit.

"So I've got you at last, have I?" cried Nelson, as he grasped Darnley by the arm.

"Lemme go!" howled the bully, in great alarm. "Lemme go, Nelson!"

"Not much! I'm going to hand you over to the police," was Nelson's firm answer.

"I won't go!"

"What's the trouble?" demanded the nautical-looking man curiously.

"He's a thief, that's the trouble," answered our hero.

"It aint so. I never stole nuthin' in my life," retorted Darnley sulkily. "He's down on me, and he's always tryin' to git me into trouble."

"I am telling the truth," said Nelson. "He's got to go with me."

"I won't go!" roared the bully.

For a moment the face of the seafaring man was a study. His name was Grabon, and he was part owner and captain of the Victory.

"Darnley has signed articles with me, for a trip to the West Indies and Brazil," he said.

"Well, he can't go to the West Indies and Brazil. He's going to the lock-up," returned Nelson firmly.

"What is he guilty of?"

"Of two robberies, so far as I know. He once robbed me of some money, and only a short while ago he robbed a news stand belonging to me and another party."

"Humph! What did he rob you of—half a dozen newspapers?" sneered Captain Grabon. "If he did, you shan't keep him ashore on that account. I am short of hands as it is, and must sail by the tide to-day."

"The trouble was all over ten newspapers," said Billy Darnley, quick to take up an idea that had come to him. "He says I stole 'em, but I didn't."

"I won't listen to such nonsense." Captain Grabon shoved Nelson back. "Let my man go."

"I won't!" exclaimed our hero.

"You will!" put in Billy Darnley, and wrenching himself free, he ran along the dock toward the Victory and clambered aboard the vessel.

"You're going to get yourself into a whole lot of trouble!" ejaculated Nelson to the captain.

"You clear out!"

"Not much—not until I've caught that thief."

As quickly as he could, our hero ran toward the ship and clambered aboard after Darnley. For the moment he had lost sight of the bully, but now he saw him peering out from behind the mainmast. At once a chase ensued.

In the meantime Captain Grabon came on board, and going quickly to his mate, he ordered the lines flung off and the boat towed out into the stream.

Around and around the deck flew Darnley, with Nelson after him. Then the bully leaped down the companion-way steps and into the cabin. Undaunted, our hero followed, and presently the pair found themselves at the end of a narrow passageway.

"Now I've got you!" panted Nelson. "You shan't get away from me again."

"I won't go!" howled Billy Darnley desperately. "I'm booked for this trip to sea."

"Well, a sea trip might do you some good, Billy, but you are not going to take it just yet What did you do with the stuff you stole from the stand?"

"Didn't steal anything from the stand."

"Yes, you did—you and Len Snocks. Van Pelt and I know all about it. You got to give up the goods, do you hear?"

"I aint got nuthin," growled Darnley.

He tried to break away again, and a hand-to-hand tussle ensued. Presently both boys went down and rolled over. As they did this Nelson's head struck an iron projection, and he was partly stunned. Before he could recover the bully was on his feet once more.

"Take that!" roared Darnley, and gave Nelson a cruel kick in the side. A kick in the head followed, and with a groan our hero was stretched out insensible.

By this time Captain Grabon was coming below to see what was going on. He met Darnley in the cabin.

"Hold on!" he cried. "Where are you going?"

"On deck," answered the bully, but did not add that he wanted to go ashore.

"Where's the other boy?"

"I knocked him down."

Darnley was about to move on, but the captain would not allow it.

"You stay here for the present," he said. "I want to investigate this."

"I'm going on deck," growled the bully.

"What!" roared the captain. "Why, you monkey, don't you know you are now under my orders?"

At this Darnley fell back, aghast.

"Under your orders?"

"Certainly. And you mind me, or I'll have you rope-ended well."

Still holding fast to Darnley, he forced his way to the narrow passage, and here saw Nelson still lying motionless. He gave a low whistle.

"So this is your game," he said. "You must have hit him hard."

"I did," answered the bully, telling the falsehood without an effort.

"This may be serious. Help me carry him into the cabin."

Alarmed, Darnley did as requested, and our hero was placed on a lounge. There was a big lump on Nelson's forehead, and this the captain made Darnley bathe with some water from an ice-cooler in the corner.

It was nearly an hour before our hero came to his senses, for the kicks from the bully had been severe. He sat up, completely bewildered.

"Where am I?" was the first question he asked himself. Then he stared around him, to behold a negro sitting near, reading a newspaper.

"Hullo!" he said feebly. "What place is this?"

"Dis am de fo'castle of de Victory," was the negro's reply.

"The fo'castle of the Victory?" repeated Nelson, puzzled. "Where—who placed me here? And who put this rag on my head?"

"Cap'n Grabon had you carried here. You had a row wid one of de new hands. Don't you remember dat?"

"Certainly I remember it," answered Nelson, and sat up. His head ached severely. "Who are you?"

"My name am Puff Brown. I's de cook ob de boat."

"Oh! And where is Billy Darnley?"

"De feller you had de fight wid?"

"Yes."

"He's on deck, learnin' how to become a sailor."

"I want him arrested. He's a thief."

So speaking, Nelson staggered to his feet and made for the doorway of the forecastle. When he got on deck he stared around him in amazement. The dock had been left behind, and around the ship were the blue waters of New York Bay.

CHAPTER XXVII.

DOWN THE NEW JERSEY COAST

"My gracious, we've sailed!"

The words came with a groan from Nelson. They were no longer at the dock in New York, but on the sea. What was to be done next?

"They are not going to carry me off!" he told himself, and rushed aft.

"Hullo! so you've got around again," sang out Captain Grabon, on catching sight of him.

"Yes, I've got around, and I want to know what this means."

"What what means, lad?"

"Why did you carry me off?"

"You carried yourself off. I told you we were about to sail. You had no business to come on board."

"I want to go ashore."

To this the captain made no answer.

"Where is Darnley?" went on our hero, and began to look around. Soon he espied the bully helping some sailors trim one of the sheets.

"Here, you stay where you are," cried Captain Grabon, as Nelson started forward, and he caught our hero by the arm. "We are on the sea now, and I am master here, and I don't propose to allow you to interfere with any of my men."

"I told you I want to go ashore," insisted Nelson.

"Well, I'm not going to stop my vessel for every monkey like you who gets himself in a pickle. You can go ashore—when we make a landing, not before."

"When will that be?"

"Keep your eyes open, and you'll soon find out."

The captain of the Victory turned away, leaving Nelson much nonplused. To tell the truth, our hero's head ached so hard he could think of little else. He walked over to a pile of rope and sat down.

"I hope they land soon," he thought dismally. "I don't want to get too far from home. I wonder what George Van Pelt thinks of my absence?"

An hour slipped by, and soon the Victory was well on her way down the bay and heading outside of Sandy Hook. The air was cool and bracing, and under any other conditions the newsboy would have enjoyed the sail very much.

But by noon he began to grow alarmed again. Instead of putting in, the ship was standing still further from shore.

"See here, this doesn't look as if you were going to land soon," he said to one of the sailors who happened to pass him.

"Land soon?" repeated the tar. "That we won't, lad."

"Well, when will we land?"

"Not afore we get to the West Indies, I reckon."

"The West Indies!" And Nelson leaped up as if shot. "You don't mean it."

"All right; ask the cap'n." And the sailor sauntered off.

The captain had gone to the cabin, and thither Nelson made his way without ceremony.

"You told me you were going to land soon?" he cried.

"No, I didn't tell you anything of the kind," answered Captain Grabon, with a leer. "I told you to keep your eyes open, and you'd soon find out what we were going to do."

"I was told you wouldn't land until you reached the West Indies."

"That's right too."

"I don't intend to go with you to the West Indies."

"All right, lad; as you please."

"You have no right to carry me off like this."

"As I said before, you carried yourself off. You came aboard my vessel without my permission, and you engaged in a row with one of my hands. Now you must suffer the consequences."

"Then you intend to take me to the West Indies with you?"

"I will, lad; but you must work your passage, as soon as you're over being knocked out."

"It's a shame!" cried Nelson indignantly. "I shan't submit."

"You can do nothing. You are on my ship, and I am master here. If you have any row to settle with Darnley, you can settle it when we land. I've told him, and now I tell you again, I won't have any more quarreling on board."

"You are not fair," pleaded our hero, half desperately.

"I know what I'm doing. Now get back to the fo'castle with you, and remember, to-morrow you take your place with the crew." And so speaking, Captain Grabon waved the lad away.

Nelson returned to the deck with a heavy heart. Had the shore been within a reasonable distance he would have leaped overboard and risked swimming, but land was far away, a mere speck on the western horizon.

At noon Nelson messed with the crew, and feeling hungry he ate his full share of the food, which was not as bad as might be supposed. He was not allowed to go near Darnley, and the bully was wise enough to keep his distance.

Slowly the afternoon wore along. The breeze remained good, and having passed Sandy Hook, the Victory stood straight down the New Jersey coast.

"Might as well learn the ropes, sooner or later," said one of the sailors to Nelson, as he lounged up.

"I don't want to learn," was the ready answer. "I wasn't cut out for a sailor. City life is good enough for me."

"And I can't stand shore life at all. Queer, aint it? The minit I'm ashore I'm in trouble and wanting to go to sea again."

"What kind of a man is this Captain Grabon?"

"Hard to please, lad. You'll have your hands full with him. Better learn your duty at once, and save trouble."

"I shall not do a hand's turn on this ship."

"Didn't you sign articles with him?"

"I did not. But that other young fellow did."

"But how came you here?"

"I followed that other fellow on board. He's a thief, and I was after him."

"Did he rob you?"

"He did. I wanted to hand him over to the police when we were on the dock, but Captain Grabon interfered. I suppose he didn't want to lose the hand."

"That's the truth—we are short, as it is. Well, now you are on board, what do you intend to do?"

"I don't know." Nelson looked the sailor straight in the eyes. "Can I trust you?"

"You can, my lad. If it's as you say, I'm sorry for you."

"If you'll help me to escape I'll give you all the money I have in my pockets—two dollars and a half."

"How can I help you?"

"Didn't I see you steering a short time ago?"

"You did."

"When will you steer again?"

"In a couple of hours."

"Then, if you get the chance, steer close to some other boat, will you? I mean some small craft that belongs along this shore."

"And if I do, what then?"

"I'll jump overboard and trust to luck to have the other boat pick me up," explained Nelson.

The two talked the plan over, and at last the sailor agreed for the two dollars to do as our hero desired—providing the opportunity arose. He insisted upon Nelson keeping the remaining fifty cents.

"I won't clean you out, lad," he said. "And I sincerely trust all goes well with you." And they shook hands.

The sailor took his next trick at the wheel at six o'clock, and half an hour later a sloop hove in sight, far to the southwestward. He nodded to Nelson, but said nothing. Most of the sailors were below, and Captain Grabon had also disappeared.

"Go on to supper," said the mate of the vessel to our hero, and turned away to inspect something forward.

"What shall I do?" whispered Nelson to the man at the wheel.

"Get your grub, lad," replied the sailor. "When we're close to that craft I'll begin to whistle 'Annie Laurie.'"

"All right; I'll listen with all ears," responded our hero.

He was soon at the mess, and eating as though nothing out of the ordinary was on his mind. But his ears were on the alert, and no sooner had the first bars of the sailor's whistle risen on the evening air than he pushed back his seat.

"I've had all I want," he muttered, for the other sailors' benefit.

"Getting seasick, I reckon," said an old tar, and laughed. Billy Darnley was already sick, and lay on a bunk, as white as a sheet and groaning dismally.

Soon Nelson had picked his way to the stern, being careful to keep out of sight of the mate. The Victory was now close to the sloop, and presently glided by the smaller craft.

"Thanks! Good-by!" called Nelson, to the man at the wheel, and in another moment he had dropped into the ocean and was swimming toward the sloop with all the strength at his command.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

GERTRUDE HAS AN ADVENTURE

It was with a light heart that Gertrude hurried to the ferry, crossed to the New Jersey side, and took the express train for Lakewood. She did not dream of the trick that had been practiced upon her, and anticipated only a good engagement and a delightful ride on the cars.

For a long while she sat by the window, drinking in the swiftly moving panorama as the train flew by station after station, and farms, and woods. But few stops were made, and she had the entire seat to herself. She would have been very much surprised had she known that Homer Bulson was watching her, yet such was the case.

The man had seen her get on board, and now occupied a seat in the smoker. His face wore a smile of triumph, for he felt that the girl was already in his power.

It was just noon when the train pulled into the elegant little station at Lakewood, and Gertrude alighted. Hotel stages were everywhere, and so were cabs and cabmen.

At last she found a newsboy who directed her where to go. She thought he looked at her rather queerly when he found out where the place was, but he said nothing, and she asked no further questions. Soon she was hurrying down the country road leading toward Sarah Higgins' place.

As she moved along she had to confess to herself that the surroundings were hardly what she had anticipated. The road was little more than a bypath, and was by no means well kept.

"Perhaps this is a short cut to something better," she thought. "That newsboy didn't want me to walk any further than necessary. But I must say I see no mansions anywhere around—only the plainest kind of farmhouses."

At last she reached the spot the boy had mentioned. In a clump of pines was a dilapidated cottage, half stone and half wood, with a dooryard in front choked with weeds.

"There surely is some mistake," said the girl to herself. "This can't be the house. I'll go in and find out where Mrs. Broaderick's home really is."

She passed through the open gateway and made her way up the rough garden path. The door was closed to the cottage, and so were all the windows. She knocked loudly.

There was a wait of a minute, and she knocked again. At length the door was opened cautiously and Sarah Higgins, dressed in a dirty wrapper and with her hair flying in all directions, showed herself.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where Mrs. Broaderick's house is?" asked Gertrude politely.

"What's that?" asked Sarah Higgins, in a high-pitched voice, and placed one hand behind her ear.

"I wish to find Mrs. Broaderick's house. Will you tell me where it is?" went on the girl, in a louder key.

"Don't know Mrs. Broaderick," replied Sarah Higgins. Then she gave Gertrude a searching look. "Come in and rest, won't you? You look tired out."

"Thank you; I'll rest a moment," answered Gertrude. She was somewhat dismayed by the turn affairs had taken. "And do you know most of the folks around here?" she continued.

The question had to be repeated twice before the half-deaf woman understood.

"Of course I do, miss," she answered. "Haven't I lived here going on forty-five years—since I was a little girl?"

"Then you must know Mrs. Broaderick—or perhaps she is a newcomer."

"Never heard the name before. But, tell me, is your name Gertrude?"

"It is!" cried the girl in wonder. "How did you guess it?"

"I've been expecting you, my dear. It's all right, make yourself at home," went on Sarah Higgins soothingly. "Let me take your hat, that's a good young lady." And she started to take Gertrude's hat from her head.

She had been told that the girl would arrive that noon and would most likely inquire for an imaginary person named Broaderick. Homer Bulson had certainly laid his plans well.

"Don't! leave my hat be!" cried Gertrude, and shrank back in alarm. "You seem to know my first name, madam, but I do not know you."

"Never mind; make yourself at home," said Sarah Higgins soothingly.

"But I do not wish to remain here. I want to find the lady I have come to Lakewood to see," insisted poor Gertrude. Then she started for the door—to find herself confronted by Homer Bulson.

"You!" she gasped, and sank back on a chair.

"You didn't expect to see me, did you?" he asked sarcastically, as he came in and shut the door.

"I—I did not," she faltered. "What brought you here?"

"Well, if you must know, I was curious to learn where you were going, Gertrude," he said in a low voice, that Sarah Higgins might not understand. "I followed you from the ferry in New York."

"You were on the express train?"

"I was."

"You had no right to follow me."

"But what are you doing here?" he went on, bound to "mix up" matters both for her and for Sarah Higgins, so that the latter might think Gertrude quite out of her mind.

"I came to Lakewood on business." Gertrude arose. "Let me pass."

"Don't be in such a hurry, Gertrude; I wish to talk to you."

"But I do not wish to speak to you, Mr. Bulson."

"Gertrude, you are cruel—why not listen?"

"Because I do not wish to hear what you want to say."

"But you don't know what I have to say," he persisted.

"I know all I wish to know. Now let me pass."

She tried to make her way to the door, but he quickly caught her by the arm.

"You shall not go," he said.

At this she let out a scream, but he only smiled, while Sarah Higgins looked on curiously.

"Screaming will do you no good, Gertrude. This house is quarter of a mile from any other, and the road is but little used."

"You are cruel—let me go!" said she, and burst into tears.