Jack Harvey's Adventures Part 30

At the same moment, two figures on the sh.o.r.e, who had been watching his manoeuvres, in astonishment and wrath, stepped into another skiff and one of them sculled harder than he had ever sculled before, for the bug-eye.

Henry Burns, groping down into the forecastle, called softly, "Jack, Jack Harvey. Jack, old boy, where are you?" There was no response, only a stir in one of the bunks and a murmur from some drowsy sleeper. The sailors of the Brandt, worn out with work, were seizing the short stop on the way up the river for a s.n.a.t.c.h of sleep, and were slumbering as only tired sailors can.

Henry Burns felt through his pockets and produced a match, which he lighted and held to the faces of three of the sleepers in turn. No Jack Harvey! The match burned out, and he lighted another, and yet one more.

When he had seen the last match flicker out on the face of the one remaining man in the forecastle, and that one was not Jack Harvey, Henry Burns felt his heart drop clear down till it seemed to leave his body. A sense of disappointment and alarm overpowered him. His legs were weak.

There was no Jack Harvey in the forecastle! What had become of him?

Henry Burns, his brain in a whirl, climbed the companion steps weakly. He put his hand on the side of the hatch at the top and took one step on deck. As he did so, a rough hand grasped his wrist; another seized upon his throat so he could utter no sound, while the hoa.r.s.e voice of Hamilton Haley sounded in his ears, "You little thief! Stealing, eh? I know you young sh.o.r.e-rats, always looking for a chance to run off with stuff. You won't get away so easy this time. You'll get a bit of dredging for this.

Hang you! You can cull oysters, if you give out at the winders. Take that, and stay below till you're called for."

The heavy fist of Hamilton Haley shot out. Henry Burns, sent spinning down the companion way by the blow, landed in a heap on the forecastle floor, stunned, senseless. A moment more, and he was tossed into a bunk like a sack of dunnage. There was a call for the crew to turn out.

The bug-eye, Brandt, was going on up the river-not secretly this time, under cover of fog, but boldly in the full moonlight, in the middle of the river, getting the benefit of the flood tide, coming in with the rising moon.

Captain Hamilton Haley had nothing to hide-not now. He was merely going after another recruit. And he had gained still another, all unexpectedly.

Luck seemed to be turning.

CHAPTER XVI ARTIE JENKINS COMES ABOARD

Early in the afternoon, on the day of the events just related, a bug-eye had turned in at a little cove at a place some ten miles up the Patuxent river called Sotterly. The sails were dropped and a boat was lowered. A tall, sharp featured, keen-eyed man, who had been giving orders, called out to one of the sailors. "Get into this skiff, Sam Black," he said; "I want you to row me ash.o.r.e."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n Bill," responded the man. He shuffled to the side of the vessel, stepped into the boat alongside, and took his seat at the oars.

When the skiff had reached sh.o.r.e and had been drawn up on land, "Cap'n Bill" tossed an empty gunny sack to the sailor.

"Going back up to Hollywood," he remarked. "I reckon you won't cut and run on me, eh?"

"I reckon not, with the season's wages coming to me from Haley,"

responded the sailor, and added, gruffly, "It's the third winter I've been oystering with Haley. He and I get along. He don't bother me none.

When he growls at me, I give it back to him, I do. That's the way to get along with him. There ain't many as dares do it, though."

Captain Bill gave a chuckle.

"You're shrewder than you look," he said. "But you're all right. Ham Haley says you're the best man he's got aboard. When you get sick of the Brandt, you come and sign with me. Good men are sure enough scarce."

"I reckon we'd get along, too," a.s.sented Sam Black.

With this somewhat unusual exchange of cordiality, captain and sailor went on together up the road leading back inland from the sh.o.r.e. After walking about a mile, they turned off on a cross-road that led more to the southward, and proceeded along that for a distance of some three miles. They pa.s.sed a score of houses on either side of the road, and came at length to a settlement comprising about twenty houses at the junction of cross-roads.

Fetching up at a building which, by its display of dusty boxes seen through still more dusty windows, proclaimed itself to be a country store, Captain Bill entered, followed by Sam Black. The latter, seating himself on an up-ended cracker box at the farther end of the store, proceeded to solace himself with a black, short-stemmed pipe, while Captain Bill entered into conversation with the proprietor.

Their negotiations were interrupted presently by the entrance of a young man, who sauntered in, with an air of importance as befitting one who was evidently from the city and impressed with his own superior worldliness.

His dress, though of a flashy character and glazed by wear at elbows and knees, was yet distinctly of a city cut, and he displayed certain tawdry jewelry to the most advantage. He nodded patronizingly to the keeper of the store.

"How'd do, Artie," said the storekeeper. "When are you going back?"

"About as soon as I can get there now, Ben," replied the youth, yawning.

"I like to come up and see the folks, all right, but it's deadly dull here. I want a little bit more of the electric lights and something going on at night. Not much like Baltimore down here."

"No, I guess not," admitted the other. "I hear you're doing pretty well up there-let's see, what is it you're in?"

The youth paused a moment, then replied, "Oh, I'm running things for a contractor. Expect I'll go in with him some day, when I get a couple of thousand more put away."

Captain Bill, turning to observe the youth who was speaking, gave a start of astonishment. He turned away again, but cast several sharp glances at the young man from the corners of his eyes.

"Well, I'm blest if it isn't Artie Jenkins," he muttered. "The measly little crimp!"

Which term, be it known, is that applied to those engaged in that peculiar calling in which young Artie Jenkins was a bright and s.h.i.+ning light-the trapping of unfortunate victims and selling them to the dredgers and such other craft as could make use of them.

Some time later, Captain Bill followed the youth outside the store and hailed him, as the latter was walking away.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, "wait a minute."

The young man turned and stared at the stranger in surprise.

"You don't know me, I reckon," ventured Captain Bill, extending a hand, which the other took carelessly.

"Can't say I do," was the reply.

"Well, I know you, just the same," continued Captain Bill. "You're name's Jenkins, if I'm not mistaken. The fact is, Jenkins, you may not remember it, but you did a little business for me once in your line up in Baltimore, and I may say, I never did see such good fellows as you s.h.i.+pped down to me-every one of them good for dredging and willing enough to work, when they got used to the business."

Artie Jenkins's manner became more friendly. It was not his fortune to meet, usually, with a captain who had a good word of this kind to say to him. He smiled affably.

"Well, I try to suit my clients, the captains, as best I can, and be fair and square with them," he said. "But I can't say as I remember you."

"It was some time ago that we did business," explained Captain Bill. He made an inward comment, also, that it was a bargain he had never forgotten, in which three men already ill had been s.h.i.+pped down to him by the clever Mr. Jenkins, causing him a total loss of thirty dollars, besides the trouble of getting rid of the men again, before they all died aboard.

"See here, Jenkins," he went on, "I'm right glad I fell in with you.

Here's a chance for you to turn a dollar down here. I need a man. Can you get him for me?"

Artie Jenkins's eyes lighted up with cunning; then an expression of doubt overcast his face.

"I sort of hate to do it down here," he said. "They all know me, and most of 'em know what the dredgers are like. I might do something if a stranger happened along, but that isn't very likely this time of year.

Still, I'll be on the lookout; something might turn up. You're down at Sotterly, eh? Be there till to-morrow noon? All right, I'll look around, anyway. If I do anything I'll be down. Will fix you, anyway, soon as I get back to Baltimore. Good day."

"Good day," responded Captain Bill.

Watching until he saw Artie Jenkins turn off on the road and disappear, Captain Bill returned to the store, and beckoned to Sam Black. The sailor came forward.

"Did you see that young chap I was talking to?" inquired Captain Bill.

Sam Black nodded. "The little dude," he said, contemptuously.

"Did he get a look at you, think?" asked Captain Bill.