Jack Harvey's Adventures: or, The Rival Campers Among the Oyster Pirates. Smith Ruel Perley

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      Then he darted after Harvey, down into the cabin.

      CHAPTER II

      THE CABIN OF THE SCHOONER

      Jack Harvey stood at the foot of the companionway, for a moment, looking into the cabin, before he entered. There was a lamp burning dimly, fastened into a socket in a support that extended from the centre-board box to the ceiling. Its light sufficed for Harvey to see but vaguely at first, owing to a cloud of tobacco smoke that filled the stuffy cabin. It was warm there, however, for the cook-stove in the galley threw its comforting heat beyond the limits of that small place; and the warmth was decidedly agreeable to one coming in from the evening air.

      Harvey entered and stood, waiting for his new acquaintance to join him. He could see objects soon more plainly. He perceived that the person who was emitting the volumes of smoke was a short, thick-set man, who was occupying one of the two wooden chairs that the cabin afforded. He was huddled all up in a heap, with his head submerged below the collar of his thick overcoat, out of which rim the smoke ascended, as though from the crater of a tiny volcano.

      He seemed to have fallen almost into sleep there; and it appeared to Harvey that he must be very uncomfortable, bundled in his great coat, with the cabin hot and smoky. Yet he was awake sufficiently to draw at the stem of his pipe, and to glance up at Harvey as he entered. He even made a jerky motion over one shoulder, with his thumb, indicating a bunk that extended along the side of the cabin, and mumbled something that sounded like, “Have a seat.”

      Harvey, however, turned toward the companion-way, as young Mr. Jenkins entered and rejoined him.

      “Now this is what I call comfortable for a vessel,” said Mr. Jenkins, briskly; “not much like some of those old bug-eyes, where they stuff you into a hole and call it a cabin. We’ll have a bit more air in here, and then we’ll sit down and have a bite with Joe. He wants us to. You’re in no great hurry, are you?”

      “No, I’m not,” responded Harvey, congratulating himself that here was a chance at last to see life aboard a real fisherman at close quarters.

      Mr. Jenkins opened one of the ports on either side, which cleared the cabin in a measure of the dense cloud of smoke, and made it more agreeable. Then, stooping, he lifted the leaf of a folding table, that was hinged to the side of the centre-board box, turned the bracket that supported it into place, and motioned to Harvey to draw up a chair. He seated himself on a wooden box, close by.

      “Joe’s got some steamed oysters ready, and a pot of coffee and some corn bread,” he said, cheerfully. “You don’t mind taking pot luck for once, do you, just to see how they live aboard? Here he is now. Come on, Joe, we’re hungry. Joe, this is Mr. – let’s see, did I get your name?”

      Harvey informed him, wondering at the easy familiarity of his new acquaintance aboard the vessel, but somewhat amused over it, and his curiosity aroused. The boy nodded to Harvey. Stepping into the galley, he returned directly, bringing two bowls filled with steamed oysters, which he set before Harvey and Mr. Jenkins. The corn bread and coffee arrived duly, and young Mr. Jenkins urged Harvey to fall to and eat heartily.

      Harvey needed no urging. His long walk about the city had made him ravenously hungry. Moreover, although the coffee was not much like what he had been accustomed to, the oysters and corn bread were certainly delicious. Harvey and Mr. Jenkins ate by themselves, waited on by the youth, who declared he would eat later, with “him,” pointing to the drowsy smoker, who had not stirred from his original position, and with Captain Scroop, if the latter should return to supper.

      It was in the course of the meal that Harvey, to his surprise, discovered that there was still another occupant of the cabin, of whose presence he had not before been aware. In the forward, farther corner of the cabin, what had appeared to be a tumbled heap of blankets, on one of the bunks, suddenly gave forth a resounding snore; and the heap of blankets stirred slightly.

      “Hello,” exclaimed Harvey; “what’s that?”

      Mr. Jenkins glanced sharply at the sleeper, sprang up and made a closer inspection, and then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, resumed his seat.

      “It’s one of the mates,” he said. “He’s had a hard cold for a week; taken something to sleep it off with, I guess.”

      Harvey went on eating. He might not have had so keen a relish for his food, however, had he known that the sleeper was not only not a mate, but that, indeed, he had never been aboard a vessel before in all his life; that he hadn’t known when nor how he did come aboard; that he was utterly oblivious to where he now was; and that he had been seized of an overpowering drowsiness shortly after taking a single glass of grog with the same young gentleman who now sat with Jack Harvey in the schooner’s cabin. That had taken place at a small saloon just across from the float.

      Perhaps the suggestion was a timely one for Mr. Jenkins; perhaps he did not need it. At all events, he said guardedly, “Scroop sometimes opens that bottle for visitors; do you want to warm up a bit against the night air?”

      He pointed, as he spoke, to a half opened locker, in which some glassware of a certain kind was visible.

      “No, thanks,” replied Harvey, “never.”

      “Nor I, either,” rejoined Mr. Jenkins, emphatically. “A man’s a fool that does, in my opinion. But it’s hospitality along here to offer it, so no offence.”

      One might, however, have noted a look of disappointment in his countenance; and he seemed to be thinking, hard.

      “Joe’s a good sort,” he remarked, presently. “I don’t know why I should tell you, but it’s odd how I come to know him. The fact is, when my folks had money – plenty of it, too – Joe lived in a little house that belonged to our estate, and I used to run away and play with him. What’s more, now I’m grown up, I’m going to run away with him again, eh, Joe?”

      The boy nodded.

      Harvey looked at Mr. Jenkins, inquiringly. The latter leaned nearer to Harvey and assumed a more confidential air.

      “Why, the fact is,” he said in a low tone, “you might not think it, perhaps, but I’m a college man – Johns Hopkins – you’ve heard of that, eh?”

      Harvey recalled the name, though the mere fact that such an institution existed was the extent of his information regarding it, and he nodded.

      “Well,” continued Mr. Jenkins, “I’m working my way through, and my folks are so proud they don’t want it known. So I’m going a trip or two with Joe and Captain Scroop, just as soon as they have a berth for me, because it’s out of the way, where no one will know me, it’s easy work, and the pay is high. Isn’t that so, Joe?”

      One might have caught the suggestion of a fleeting desire to grin, on the features of the boy addressed; but he lowered his gaze and nodded.

      “Why, how many more men do you have begging for chances to ship, every voyage, than you have need of?” inquired young Mr. Jenkins, looking sharply at the boy.

      “Dunno,” answered Joe, doggedly. “Mebbe five or six; mebbe more.”

      “That’s it!” exclaimed Mr. Jenkins, “And the wages are twenty-five dollars a month, and all the good food a fellow can eat, eh?”

      “More’n he can eat, mostly,” responded the boy. “They gets too much to eat.”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ