Читать книгу No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone - Castlemon Harry - Страница 2

Tom Newcombe seemed to possess, in a remarkable degree, the faculty of creating a disturbance wherever he went, and his re-appearance in the village was the signal for a general commotion. Johnny Harding came in for a share of the trouble, and was the hero of an adventure that gained him an enviable reputation in Newport. In order that the reader may understand how it came about, we must go back and describe some events with which he is not acquainted.

For two weeks after the Spartan sailed with the fisher-boy on board, Tom Newcombe led a most miserable life. His father took especial care that every moment of his time, from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, should be occupied with some business or another, and, in Tom's estimation, this was the very worst punishment that could be inflicted upon him. In addition to that, the law against going outside the gate after dark was rigidly enforced; and thus Tom was thrown upon his own resources for recreation.

There were few boys in the village he cared to associate with now. He avoided the students, and Johnny Harding and his set, as he would a pestilence; but he was not always successful in his efforts to keep out of their way, for he had a good many errands to do about the village, and at almost every corner he met somebody he did not want to see. Besides, Johnny had taken up his position behind Mr. Henry's counter; and, although he had become a steady, well-behaved boy in other respects, he was as full of mischief as ever, and seemed to take unbounded delight in tormenting Tom. Mr. Henry's store was but a short distance from the office; and as Johnny was constantly running up and down the wharf on business, he met Tom frequently, and never failed to make particular inquiries concerning the welfare of the young ruffians who had composed the Crusoe band.

"Ah, good morning, captain!" he would say, raising his hand to his cap with a military flourish, "how's the governor? and how does the society come on?"

Tom sometimes made an angry reply; but generally he would take to his heels, and as soon as possible get out of hearing of his tormentor. Nine times in ten he did not better himself any; for, while he was running away from Johnny, he would encounter some one else who had something to say about the yacht or the Crusoe band. He was thus kept continually in hot water, and he knew that such would be his condition as long as he remained in the village. There was one way of escape, and that was to do as Johnny Harding had done, when he came home from the memorable expedition of the Night-Hawks. He saw his folly, acknowledged it, and resolved that his future life should make some amends for it. He held to this determination; and was now in a fair way to make a man of himself. Tom, however, did not possess the moral courage to do this. He was one of those boys who are always in the right, and he did not believe that the troubles he had got into were the results of his own misdeeds. He laid the blame upon somebody else – principally upon his father, at whom he was highly enraged. He wanted to get out of the village, and he set his wits at work to conjure up some plan to induce the merchant to send him to sea, or permit him to make another contract with Mr. Hayes; but Mr. Newcombe thought the office was the best place for Tom, and told him so in a manner so decided, that the boy knew that argument was useless.

All this while he had been busy with his plan for the organization of a new secret society, but he was obliged to confess that, under the circumstances, it was not likely to amount to any thing. He needed the assistance of the old members of the Crusoe band; but his father had ordered him to have nothing further to do with them, and, more than that, he took care to see that the order was obeyed. Tom, knowing that he was closely watched, kept aloof from the ferry-boys, and when his work for the day was over, he found relief from his troubles by sailing about the bay in the Mystery. One evening he extended his cruise around Block Island; and it was then an incident happened that brought about the events we have yet to describe. He was sailing around a high rocky promontory which formed the southern part of the island, his mind, as usual, busy with his new scheme, when he was aroused by hearing his name pronounced. He looked toward the shore, and was frightened nearly out of his senses when he discovered a boy, who bore a strong resemblance to Sam Barton, standing on a rock at the foot of the bluff, waving his hat to him. Tom was not superstitious, but he believed, with every one else in Newport, that the governor had deliberately put an end to his existence by jumping into the harbor on that stormy night, and his sudden appearance in that lonely spot was enough to startle him.

"Come ashore, Muley; I want to talk to you."

The voice certainly sounded like Sam Barton's, and Tom, astonished and perplexed, brought the Mystery up into the wind, and sat gazing at the bluffs as if he hardly knew whether or not it was safe to venture any nearer to it.

"Don't you know me, Muley?" asked the boy on shore. "I'm Sam Barton."

"Why, you were drowned," returned Tom.

"Drowned! Not much, I wasn't. I ketched hold of a spar that happened to be in the water near me, an' here I am all right."

Tom, being now convinced that the boy on shore was really the long-lost governor of the Crusoe band, filled away, and, when the Mystery had approached within a few feet of the rock, Sam said:

"Now, Muley, you're close enough. I want to ask you one question before you come ashore. Have you gone back on me?"

"No, I haven't," replied Tom, who had already told himself that the meeting with Sam was most fortunate, and that, with his assistance, his new idea could be successfully carried out, "but I have a small account against you. You made me captain of the yacht, without my asking you for the position, and then refused to obey my orders, and broke me without one word of excuse or apology. I didn't like that very well, but as our expedition proved a failure, I don't care so much about it. What are you doing, governor? and how came you here?"

"Are you sure you won't tell any body in the village that you saw me?" demanded Sam. "You see, I am afraid of Bobby Jennings and Mr. Grimes, an' I don't care about tellin' you too much till I know how fur you can be trusted."

"I won't say a word to any body – honor bright," replied Tom.

"Wall, then, come ashore, and let me get into your boat, an' I'll show you where I live."

Tom complied with the request; and the governor, after shaking him cordially by the hand, and compelling him to promise, over and over again, that he would keep every thing that passed between them a profound secret, seated himself at the helm, and turned the Mystery's head down the shore. The wind was blowing briskly; and at the end of the promontory was a chain of sunken rocks, that extended a considerable distance below the foot of the island, and over which the waves dashed and foamed, throwing the spray higher than the Mystery's mast-head. These rocks were quite as dangerous as they looked; for more than one vessel, in attempting to enter Newport harbor during a gale, had gone to pieces there. They presented an insurmountable obstacle to the young navigators of the village, who had explored every little bay and inlet on the island, except those in the vicinity of "The Shoals," as these rocks were called. The slightest breeze would there raise a sea that threatened destruction to any thing that came within its reach; and when the weather was calm, the rocks could be seen above the water in all directions, standing so close together that the bravest of the boys dared not risk their boats among them. Tom knew the place well; and we can imagine his astonishment when he saw that Sam was shaping his course as if he intended to pass between the rocks and the bluffs on the island.

"Keep out, governor!" he shouted, in alarm. "You'll smash us all to pieces if you go in there."

"Now, you just trust me, Muley, an' I'll see that no harm don't come to you or your boat," replied Sam, confidently. "I've got a safe harborin' place here, and this is the way to get to it."

Tom had seen the time that he would have positively refused to trust his fine boat among those rocks. He was naturally a very timid boy, and, although he had been accustomed to the water and to sail-boats from the time he was large enough to handle a tiller, a fresh breeze and a few waves always made him extremely nervous. But the events of the last few months had developed in him at least one quality which his companions had never supposed him to possess. He was getting to be a very reckless sort of fellow; and, although he clutched his seat and held his breath when the Mystery dashed in among the waves off the point, he looked quite unconcerned. He was really frightened, however, and that was not to be wondered at. Sam was attempting something that no one had ever had the courage to try before; and no doubt Tom felt a good deal as did the mariners of old when approaching the terrible Cape Bojador, which they believed marked the boundaries of navigation. But the governor knew just what he was doing. He proved himself an excellent pilot, and in a few moments he rounded the point, and, entering a little bay where the water was comparatively quiet, he directed the boat's course toward what appeared to be a solid wall of rock. A nearer approach to it, revealed a narrow creek that led into the island. Sam steered into it, skillfully avoiding the rocks on either side; and when the Mystery's bow was run upon the sand, Tom jumped ashore and looked about him.

"Well, Muley, what do you think of me for a sailor?" asked Sam, looking at his companion with a smile of triumph. "Aint that something worth braggin' on? I wouldn't be afraid to take your father's biggest vessel through there."

"But how would you get her out again?" asked Tom. "You couldn't beat up against the wind, for the channel isn't wide enough."

"Of course not; I couldn't take the Mystery out that way, much less a big ship. Did you see them high rocks at the lower end of the shoals? Well, when you want to go home, I shall take you right past them."

"O, now, I won't go," drawled Tom, looking at Sam in great amazement. "I did notice them, and I know the waves must be ten or fifteen feet high there."

"That's nothing. The channel runs close alongside them rocks, an' is wide an' deep enough to float a frigate. If you want to go home in your boat, that's your only chance."

While this conversation was going on, Tom had made a hurried examination of the governor's harboring-place, which was far ahead of the cave in the village, and must have been expressly intended to serve as a refuge for some person, who, like Sam, thought it necessary to keep aloof from his fellow-men. The creek was simply an arm of the bay, which did not extend more than twenty yards into the land, where it formed a cove large enough to shelter half a dozen sail-boats. It was surrounded by precipitous cliffs, which hung threateningly over the water and whose sides were so thickly covered with bushes and trees that the rays of the sun could not penetrate through them. The entrance was effectually concealed by rocks which had fallen from the bluffs above, and a fleet might have coasted along the shore without discovering it. On one side of the cove was a little grass plat, which sloped gently down to the water's edge, and here Sam had erected a rude cabin, which was furnished with a bed, fire-place, cooking utensils, and other articles of comfort and convenience. A skiff was drawn up on the bank in front of the cabin, a sail and a pair of oars rested against the eaves, and in a frying-pan, which stood on a bench beside the door, were several fish which Sam had caught for his supper.

"Well, Muley, what do you think of it?" asked the governor, when his visitor had examined every thing to his satisfaction. "I'm livin' Crusoe life now, aint I? I'd like it a heap better than ferryin', if I only had something besides fish and water-melons to eat."

"Water-melons!" repeated Tom: "where do you get them?"

"O, I hooks 'em. There's plenty on the island, an' I was just goin' out after some when I saw you. I've got one left, an' it's in the spring, behind the cabin, coolin' off."

"How did you get out without your boat?" asked Tom, looking up at the overhanging cliffs. "You can't climb those rocks."

"You couldn't, but I can, 'cause I know where the path is. You see, I am an old fox, an' I've got two holes to my burrow. If Mr. Grimes an' Bobby Jennings find out where I am, an' come here with a boat to ketch me, they'll see me goin' up them rocks like a goat; an' if they come down the path – which they aint no ways likely to do – I'll take to my boat. Come with me now, Muley, an' I'll show you something."

Tom followed the governor around the cabin, past the spring in which was the water-melon Sam had spoken of, and which he said they would eat when they came down, and presently found himself standing at the foot of a narrow, winding fissure, that led to the top of the cliff. This was one of the holes to Sam's "burrow" – the path of which he had spoken. It proved to be very steep and slippery, and, before they had accomplished half the distance to the summit, Tom was obliged to sit down and recover his breath. The second time he stopped, he found before him a yawning chasm which extended across the path, and seemed to check their farther progress.

"Can you jump it, Muley?" asked the governor.

Now, as the chasm was fully ten feet wide, and Tom could see no chance for a running start, he thought this question entirely unnecessary. No boy who had any desire to live would have thought of attempting to jump it; for, if he missed his footing when he landed on the opposite side, he would fall about forty feet. That was what Tom thought, and that was what he told the governor.

"Well, I have done it many a time," said Sam, "an' I can do it again."

As he spoke, he stepped to a tree beside the path, and began to unfasten a rope which led down from some place above – Tom could not see where, for the bushes that covered the side of the cliff were too thick. Grasping the rope with both hands, the governor stepped back a few feet, then ran swiftly to the brink, and, springing into the air, alighted safely on the other side of the chasm.

"I don't like that way of getting over," said Tom, looking down at the rocks beneath him; "that rope might break."

"I'll risk that," was the reply. "It's strong enough to hold half a dozen fellers like us, an' it is made fast up there to a tree as big around as your body. Ketch it, Muley, an' come on."

The governor let go the rope, which swung back to Tom's side of the chasm, and the latter, with a good deal of trembling and hesitation, prepared to take his turn. He made two or three false starts – stepping back for a short run, as he had seen the governor do, and then suddenly stopping when he reached the brink of the chasm, and thought what would become of him if the rope should break loose from the tree above; but his fear of being laughed at was stronger than his dread of the rocks, and finally he drew in a long breath, and launched himself into the air. Somewhat to his astonishment, he accomplished the feat very easily; and when he found himself safe on the opposite side, he straightened up and looked at the governor as if he had done something wonderful.

Sam fastened the rope to a bush, and once more led the way up the path, which grew steeper and more difficult the nearer they approached the summit. In some places the cliff was quite perpendicular, and the only way they could advance at all was by drawing themselves up by the bushes that grew out of the crevices of the rocks. They reached the top at last, however, and then Sam stopped, and, pointing through the leaves, showed Tom several men at work in a field, and a farm-house in the distance.

"I hooks them fellers' water-melons," observed the governor.

"What if they should discover us now, and come after us?" said Tom.

"Let 'em come. They wouldn't find us, I reckon; an', even if they did, they couldn't ketch us, fur they couldn't get across that gully. But they don't dream of any body's livin' down here, in this dark hole. If they miss their water-melons, they lay the blame on some of the village boys."

Tom did not care to remain long on the cliff, for he was afraid that something might happen to direct the attention of the farmers toward him and his companion, and he had no desire to run a race with any body down that steep path. He might make a misstep, and that would be a calamity, for he would bring up among the rocks at the bottom of the chasm, and there would not be enough left of him to carry out his new idea by the time he got there. But, although it was quite as difficult and tedious a task to go down the cliff as to ascend it, no accident happened to them. They reached the chasm in safety, crossed it with the aid of the rope – this time without any hesitation on Tom's part – and were soon stretched on the grass in front of the cabin, refreshing themselves with the water-melon.