Sink or Swim; or, Harry Raymond's Resolve

The fact was, he had formed a very different idea of both from the present reality. He supposed Mr. Fairchild would be a portly man, handsomely dressed, and his place of business a large warehouse several times as large as Mr. Porter’s store, which he had just left. But here was a miserable little twenty-foot room, at which, he felt very confident, John Gaylord would turn up his nose. He fervently hoped that none of his country friends would come and see him. After all the glowing anticipations he had formed, this was certainly something of a come-down. Then, he was disappointed in Mr. Fairchild himself. He certainly did not look by any means like a prosperous city merchant, doing an extensive business.

“Have you just reached New York, Raymond?” asked the merchant, picking his teeth with the small blade of his pocket-knife.

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. “I came right here.”

“All right. I was expecting you. So you want me to make a business man of you, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, wondering if he should dress as shabbily when he became a commission merchant.

“Well, I’ll do my best for you.”

“How is business, sir?” asked Harry, a little anxiously under the circumstances.

“Pretty good,” answered Mr. Fairchild.

Harry involuntarily looked round the empty room with a puzzled air. He wondered what Mr. Fairchild had to sell, and where he kept it. He could not help wondering, also, where his salary of twelve dollars a week was to come from.

“Yesterday I sold a cargo of sugar,” resumed Mr. Fairchild,—“ten thousand dollars’ worth. I must have you make out the bill presently.”

Harry looked and felt astonished. He began to suspect that, in spite of appearances, considerable business might be done even in this little room. Probably Mr. Porter’s sales for an entire year would not amount to more than twenty thousand dollars, yet here was a sale of half that amount in a single day.

“Do you often make such large sales?” he asked, with a new feeling of respect.

“Do you call that a large sale?” said the merchant, indifferently.

“I should think it was, sir.”

“Ah, yes, your being from the country explains that. I sell large quantities of merchandise on commission. I never take any consignment worth less than a thousand dollars. It wouldn’t pay.”

“Indeed!” said our hero, becoming more cheerful. The office was small and dull. Still the amount of business done there redeemed its significance.

“Day before yesterday I sold a cargo of cotton, amounting to—let me see—”

Mr. Fairchild went to the desk, and, opening it, took out a small blank book.

“Twenty-seven thousand five hundred and thirty three dollars, and seventy-five cents,” he read, from the book. “What would my commission on this sale be, at two per cent.? I want to see whether you are quick and correct at figures.”

“About five hundred and fifty dollars,” answered our hero, making a rapid calculation in his head. “If I had a pencil and some paper, I would give you the exact figures.”

“Quite right. I see you understand the principle. That’s doing very fairly for one day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, considerably impressed.

At this moment a man entered, and, with a hasty glance at Harry, addressed Mr. Fairchild.

“Ah, Miller, how are you?” said the merchant.

“Very well, but in a great hurry. Have you sold that cargo of silks yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you thought over my offer of this morning?”

“Seventeen thousand dollars? Yes, I have thought of it, and I can’t accept it. My price is eighteen thousand.”

“Too much; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll split the difference, and say five hundred.”

This offer, after a little chaffering, was finally agreed to.

“Raymond,” said Mr. Fairchild, “make out a bill against Mr. Miller, Thomas Miller, of seventeen thousand five hundred dollars for the cargo of silks, at present on the ship Argo. You will find pen and paper on the desk.”

Harry stepped to the desk, and with some tribulation made out the bill, as he would have done for a supply of groceries. He feared that it would not answer; but on handing it to Mr. Fairchild that gentleman made no criticism. He just glanced at it, and handed it to Mr. Miller.

“Very well, I’ll send round a check for the amount in the morning.”

“All right.”

“Good-morning. I am in a hurry;” and the silk purchaser went out.

“What do you think of that specimen of doing business, Raymond?” asked Mr. Fairchild, complacently.

“It didn’t take long.”

“No, that’s the city style. And it pays too. Just calculate the commission on that sale at two per cent.”

“Three hundred and fifty dollars,” said our hero, promptly.

“I dare say you are not used to such transactions in the country.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, it’s a very comfortable way of doing business. Probably I may have no other sale to-day—possibly not to-morrow; but two or three large sales a week count up.”

Harry began to think he should not have to work very hard, and his doubt as to Mr. Fairchild’s making money enough to pay him his wages disappeared.

“Do you want me to go to work at once?” he asked.

“Yes, I have some copying for you to do. Open that ledger.”

Harry did so.

“You may commence at page 51, and copy down the entries upon these sheets of paper. You are used to copying, aren’t you?”

“No, sir, but I can do it well enough.”

“Very well. You may go to work at once. I must make a business call. I will be back in an hour or two, and take you to dinner.”

He took his hat and went out. Harry began to copy industriously. The transactions entered appeared to date several years back, and Harry did not exactly understand what connection they had with Mr. Lemuel Fairchild’s business. But then, as he reflected, he was not competent to judge of that. All he had to do was to obey instructions, and after a while he would know more. It was certainly very astonishing the way in which business was done in the city. The prospect of being cooped up in a small, dark room was not very pleasant. Still Harry recalled the pleasant circumstance that he was earning two dollars a day, and was at the same time learning business. So far as he could see, the commission business was not very difficult to learn. Perhaps Mr. Fairchild might eventually admit him as a partner in the firm. If so, he would soon realize a fortune.

Harry kept on copying steadily while these thoughts were passing through his mind. After an hour or more the door opened, and Mr. Fairchild entered.

“How much have you copied?” he asked, advancing to the desk.

“About two pages and a half,” said Harry. “Is it done right?”

His employer glanced at the writing carelessly.

“Yes,” he said, “it will do very well. You have a good business-hand.”

“I shall improve as I go on, I hope,” said Harry, modestly.

“Oh, of course. I’ve no doubt I shall be able to make a business-man of you. But I suppose you are getting hungry.”

Harry admitted that he was a little hungry.

“Well, we will go out as soon as a friend arrives whom I have invited to accompany us.”

Fifteen minutes after, the friend referred to arrived. It was Hartley Brandon,—the same man who had visited Squire Turner in Vernon the week before.

He glanced sharply at our hero, and said something in a low tone to Mr. Fairchild which Harry did not understand. He little dreamed that the new-comer was to be intimately connected with his fortunes. Still less did he dream that he was an agent of Squire Turner, and that all the profitable business transactions of Mr. Lemuel Fairchild were merely fictitious, and got up solely to deceive him. Harry was a smart boy, but even smart boys are likely to be taken in, in matters of which they have no previous experience. But Harry’s eyes were to be opened very soon.

CHAPTER XVI.
HARRY’S FIRST BUSINESS TRANSACTION.

Lemuel Fairchild conducted Brandon and Harry to Lovejoy’s Hotel on Broadway, and led the way to the restaurant connected with the hotel.

“I’ve done a good stroke of business this morning,” he said. “I can afford to stand treat. Sit down, Mr. Brandon. Sit down, Raymond. Now, what will you have?”

“Roast beef,” answered Brandon. “I prefer the sirloin.”

“Very good. What for you, Raymond?”

“The same,” said Harry.

“Three plates of sirloin,” ordered Mr. Fairchild. “By the way, Captain Brandon, I have been giving our young friend here a little inkling into the way we do business in the city.”

“Well, my lad,” said Brandon, “how do you like it?”

“I think I shall like it when I get used to it, sir,” said Harry.

“I made a sale amounting to nearly eighteen thousand dollars this morning,” remarked the commission merchant.

“You’re not used to doing business on so large a scale in the country, I take it?” said Brandon.

“No, sir.”

“The city’s the place for a smart lad like you. You’ll make your way here.”

“I hope so.”

“No doubt of it, if you attend to business, and do whatever you are told.”

“I mean to do my duty.”

“That’s the talk,” said Fairchild, who for a wealthy city merchant used a variety of phrases hardly to be expected. “By the time you’re thirty you’ll be a rich man. I didn’t start with one quarter of your advantages. When I was your age I worked for three dollars a week, and had to pay my board out of it. See where I am now.”

Mr. Fairchild, as I have stated, was dressed rather shabbily, and, so far as appearance went, did not seem to have got far beyond the point where he started.

If Harry had not witnessed the extensive scale on which he transacted business, he might not have been very much impressed by his remarks; but, not suspecting any deception, he supposed that everything was as stated, and felt very much encouraged by his remarks.

“You’ll be taking our young friend as partner some of these days, Mr. Fairchild,” said Brandon.

“I make no promises,” answered Fairchild; “but by the time he gets grown up I shall feel the need of sharing my responsibilities with some one. If he suits me, it may be as you say.”

“Why not? I suppose you are growing rich fast, Fairchild.”

“That isn’t for me to say. I don’t tell all about my affairs, as some do; but I could afford to give away a hundred thousand dollars, and have enough left to live handsomely.”

“I congratulate you on your success, and hope our young friend here will succeed as well. By the way, I wish you would order me some coffee.”

“Certainly. Call for anything you like. Raymond, will you have some coffee?”

“Thank you, sir, I should like some.”

“We poor sailors,” said Brandon, stirring his coffee, “don’t get rich so fast as you merchants. We brave the elements, and you reap the profits. That’s about the way of it, I take it.”

“By the way, when do you sail, Captain Brandon?”

“It is not quite decided. In a day or two. Were you ever on board a ship, my lad?”

“No, sir.”

“You’d like to see one, I suppose?”

“Yes,” said our young hero, eagerly; “I should enjoy it very much.”

“Don’t you think you could spare him a little while to-morrow morning, Fairchild? Business isn’t very driving, is it?”

“Yes, I could spare him, I think, if he would like to go.”

“All right, then. I shall be passing your office in the morning, and will take him along and show him the Sea Eagle.”

“You are very kind, sir,” said Harry, gratefully.

He was rather surprised at the amount of attention he received from his employer and the captain. Indeed, he had reason to be, for I may remark for the benefit of my country readers, whose expectations might otherwise be unduly raised, that city merchants rarely offer a prospective partnership to a boy on the first day of his entering their employment. Had Harry possessed more experience, he might have been led to suspect that there was something queer about it; but he reflected that in the city things were different from what he had been accustomed to in the country. Even Mr. Porter, who only kept a common village store, had not said anything about taking him into partnership at any period, however remote; but here was a wealthy city merchant who held out the tempting inducement. No wonder our hero indulged in some gorgeous castle-building, and began to dream of what he would do when he was junior partner in the city firm of Fairchild and Raymond.

At length the dinner was over, and the three walked back in company to the office in Nassau Street.

“What shall I do, Mr. Fairchild?” asked Harry.

“You may keep on with your copying,” said his employer, carelessly. “I have some business with Captain Brandon, and shall be away with him most of the afternoon. Yon can attend to the office.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If any parties should call on business with me, you may tell them to call to-morrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If a gentleman should call, and inquire my price for a consignment of spices, you may say that the lowest figure is ten thousand dollars.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If he should be willing to pay that, you have my authority to close the bargain.”

“Yes, sir.”

Here Mr. Fairchild went out, and Harry was left to himself. When he reflected that he was authorized to close a bargain of so extensive a character, involving property to the amount of ten thousand dollars, he felt considerably raised in his own estimation.

“I might have plodded on in Vernon for fifty years, before having such a responsibility thrown upon me,” he said to himself.

He continued his copying for an hour, when the door opened, and a man entered briskly.

“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“When will he be in?”

“He may return late in the afternoon. He left word, if any one called, to ask them to come back to-morrow morning.”

“That won’t do for me. I must leave the city this evening. I am sorry not to find him in,” said the stranger, in a tone of vexation.

“Perhaps you will leave word about your business, and he can write to you.”

“It was about some spices that I wished to purchase, if we could come to terms.”

“Oh,” said Harry, with animation, “he left word with me about that. I can tell you whatever you wish to know.”

“Do you know his price,—his lowest price?”

“Yes, sir; it is ten thousand dollars. He won’t take a cent less.”

“You are sure of that?”

“Yes, sir, he told me so expressly.”

“If he were here I would close the bargain.”

“You can do so now. I have authority to sell,” said our hero, in a tone of pardonable importance.

“Indeed! You are quite a man of business of your age. However, if you have authority for selling, you may make out a bill, and I will send round my check.”

“Very well, sir.”

Harry did as requested, and the stranger, expressing himself satisfied, departed.

Previous to Mr. Fairchild’s departure, he gave Harry permission to write home if he desired it. Our hero decided to avail himself of this permission, being anxious to apprize his mother of his position, and the circumstances in which he found himself. Writing immediately after the important business transaction just mentioned, he may be pardoned if his letter is somewhat sanguine, and confident in its tone.

This is what he wrote:—

This letter gave great comfort to Mrs. Raymond. She felt that, though Harry was separated from her at present, he had embarked upon a prosperous business career, and that better times were in store for both. Poor woman! it was the last letter she received from Harry for many a long, tedious day.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE FIRST NIGHT IN THE CITY.

Probably the reader has noticed, with some surprise, that Mr. Fairchild addressed his sailor confederate as Captain Brandon, and may have thought the name wrongly applied. But by a lucky accident, as he termed it, he had been unexpectedly elevated to the chief command of the vessel on which he was about to sail. Captain Hatch, who had been expected to fill this place, was a good sailor, but addicted to intemperate habits. In a fit of intoxication only two days previous, he had got into a fracas, and been so severely injured that it was found necessary to send him to the hospital, where he was likely to be detained some time. Meantime the Sea Eagle was all ready to sail, and the owners, without knowing much of Hartley Brandon, who had been engaged as first mate, offered him the captain’s place, which it is needless to say he accepted with alacrity. It was a position which for years he had striven to obtain, but until now unsuccessfully. So far as seamanship was concerned, he was as well fitted for the place as many who had filled it for years; but he was reckless and unreliable, and disposed at times to be despotic, so that he had never been popular with the crews which he had commanded as officer. However, there was little to choose, and to this fact he was indebted for his present post.

Lemuel Fairchild was a seedy adventurer, whom he had engaged for a small consideration to play the part of a commission merchant, in order to draw Harry to the city, where there would be an opportunity to carry out his, or rather Squire Turner’s, intentions, with regard to him. Of course, all the large business transactions were bogus, the parties pretending to purchase cargoes being intimates of Fairchild. The office in Nassau Street had been hired for a week only, as that would be sufficient for Brandon’s purpose. The ledger, out of which our hero was employed to copy, had formerly belonged to a business house now bankrupt, and had been bought cheap of a paper firm in Ann Street, whither it had found its way among the waste which is diligently gathered by the squalid army of rag-pickers, that usually prowl about the streets, and explore the lanes and alleys of the great metropolis.

The reader is now in possession of all the net-work of deception by which Brandon’s ingenuity had contrived to dupe our young hero. It is no wonder that, smart as he was, he failed to discover this. Whatever seemed strange to him he naturally attributed to his want of knowledge of city ways.

When night came, and the office closed, Mr. Fairchild took Harry to Lovejoy’s once more to take supper.

“I must get a boarding-place for you to-morrow,” he said. “To-night, I will secure a room for you here.”

“Where do you live, Mr. Fairchild?” asked Harry, with natural curiosity.

“Why, the fact is, I am boarding at the hotel myself just at present. I have a fine house up town, but it is being painted and refurnished, and, until that is finished, I board at a hotel.”

“Are you married?” continued Harry, who was something of a Yankee, as he showed by his questions.

“My wife and children are travelling in Europe,” said Mr. Fairchild, telling, of course, an unblushing falsehood. “I would join them if I could get away from my business. I must wait till I have a partner to leave in charge.” And he looked at Harry in a significant way, which caused our young hero’s heart to beat with proud anticipations.

They made a very good supper, and then sat down for a while in the public room, Fairchild smoking a couple of cigars with evident enjoyment. He offered one to Harry, which the latter declined, having fortunately never acquired a habit that to boys, at least, can never be productive of good.

About eight o’clock Harry asked permission to go to bed. His long ride in the morning, with the new experiences of his first day in the city, had produced a feeling of fatigue.

“Oh, yes, you can go to bed if you like,” said Fairchild. “I’ll speak to the clerk to give us a room with two beds.”

“How early do you want me to get up in the morning, Mr. Fairchild?”

“How early do you get up in the country?”

“About half-past five.”

“We don’t rise so early in the city. We’ll breakfast at eight, and get to the office at nine. Any time before eight will do.”

Harry thought that nine was rather late to commence business; but this, as he supposed, was only another difference between the city and the country.

Harry soon fell asleep in spite of the rattling of wheels and the never-ceasing noise in the busy street beneath. He was too tired even to dream, but slept soundly until the next morning.

When he awoke it was broad daylight. He looked across the room, and saw Fairchild still sleeping. He jumped out of bed, and dressed hastily. Remembering that it was his first morning in the city, he was eager to go downstairs, and look about him.

Fairchild opened his eyes sleepily, as he completed dressing.

“Up already, Raymond?” he asked, in a drowsy tone.

“Yes, sir.”

“What time is it?”

“I just heard it strike seven.”

“Well, go down if you like. I will be down by eight o’clock.”

Harry availed himself of the permission, and descended four flights of stairs, for they were on the fifth story, to the office.

As he emerged into the street, a ragged urchin came up and accosted him with the familiar question, “Shine yer boots?”

“Go ahead,” said Harry, perceiving that his boots were stained with mud.

The task was performed in a creditable style, and our hero was called upon to disburse ten cents. He resolved, as soon as he got settled in a boarding-house, to buy a brush and some blacking for himself, feeling that he was not yet in circumstances to pay ten cents daily for having his boots blacked.

He stood at the door of the hotel, and watched the throng of wayfarers, which, commencing two hours before, would flow without interruption through the busy street until the small hours. It was to our hero, born and bred in the quiet country, an animated and interesting spectacle, and he felt glad, in spite of a certain feeling of loneliness, that he was employed in the city.

At eight o’clock his employer came down, and they went together into the saloon, where they took a substantial breakfast, the expense being defrayed by Captain Brandon, acting for Squire Turner.

Shortly afterwards they went round to the office in Nassau Street.

Lemuel Fairchild seated himself in his position of the day before, with his heels on the mantel-piece, and diligently perused the columns of the “New York Herald,” a copy of which he had bought in the street below.

“What shall I do, Mr. Fairchild?” asked Harry.

“Go on with your copying,” said Fairchild, not lifting his eyes from the paper.

So our hero opened the ledger, and went to work. His task was not a very interesting one. Still he was earning two dollars a day, and this money would enable him to provide for his mother; so he buckled to it in earnest, determined to show his employer that he was not afraid of work. He had commenced working for the partnership of which a prospect had been given him.

About ten o’clock the door opened, and Brandon entered.

“Good-morning, Captain Brandon,” said Fairchild, rising.

“Good-morning, Fairchild. Good-morning, my lad.”

“Good-morning, sir,” answered Harry.

“Well, my lad, are you ready to make a little visit to my ship?”

“Yes, sir, if Mr. Fairchild is willing.”

“Oh, he’ll be willing; I’ll guarantee that. Your writing can wait till another time. Eh, Fairchild?”

“Yes, he can go,” assented the merchant.

Harry picked up his hat, and accompanied Brandon to the street.

“It’s all right,” said Brandon, in a whisper, placing a small roll of bills in the hand of Fairchild. “It’ll be a long time before you set eyes on your office-boy again.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
GOING ON BOARD.

Harry crossed Broadway with his companion, and went down a side street to the North River pier, at which lay the Sea Eagle, of which Brandon had obtained the command. It was a vessel of good size, and was now all ready for sea. This fact, however, Captain Brandon did not care to communicate to his young companion.

“How soon do you sail, Captain Brandon?” asked Harry.

“In a day or two,” said Brandon.

“Is your voyage a long one?”

“We are bound for China.”

“That is a long trip.”

“Yes, a very long one.”

“Don’t you get tired of the sea?”

“Oh, we sailors get used to it.”

“I don’t think I should like it.”

“So you wouldn’t like being a sailor?” said Brandon, looking at the lad with a meaning which the latter did not understand.

“No, I don’t think I should.”

“So I thought at your age; but I became a sailor, after all.”

However it might have been in the case of Captain Brandon, Harry thought it very improbable that such a change would take place in his own views.

At length he reached the pier. Bales of merchandise lay scattered about, and there was a general appearance of confusion and disorder.

“There is my vessel,” said Captain Brandon, pointing it out. “Don’t you want to go to China with me?”

“Thank you,” said Harry, with a smile, “but I will wait till I am older.”

“And then go as a merchant, I suppose?”

“Perhaps so.”

“Well, we will go on board, at all events. I will show you about.”

Harry ascended to the deck, and Captain Brandon followed. The latter began to point out and name various parts of the vessel, walking about with our hero. The sailors looked with some curiosity at Harry, but of course asked no questions. The mate, however, Mr. Hawkes, after speaking with Brandon about some matter connected with the vessel, asked, “Is that the cabin-boy?”

“Certainly,” said Brandon.

“He asks if you are the cabin-boy,” he said, after the mate had passed on. “It’s a good joke, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Harry, smiling.

“Now suppose we go into the cabin,” said Brandon.

“Thank you,” assented Harry.

Accordingly they descended into the ship’s cabin, which, though small, was very comfortable.

“Sit down, Raymond,” said the captain, setting the example.

On the cabin table was spread out a slight repast, consisting of sandwiches and ale.

“We’ll take a little lunch,” said Brandon. “It’s hungry work walking about the streets. You can eat a little something, I guess.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, accepting a sandwich.

“Let me pour you out some ale.”

“I don’t think I care for any, thank you.”

“Pooh, nonsense, ale won’t do you any harm;” and Brandon filled his glass.

Harry had never even tasted of ale, but he did not know how to refuse the captain’s hospitality, and raised the glass to his lips. The taste was not altogether agreeable, so he merely sipped a little, and set it down again.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Not very much.”

“Never mind, it’ll do you good. Nothing more wholesome.”

“How long will your voyage be, Captain Brandon?”

“Eighteen months; perhaps longer. By the time I get back, I suppose you will have become quite a man of business.”

“I hope so,” said Harry.

“How do you like my friend Fairchild?”

“He has been quite kind to me. I think I shall like him.”

“Keep on, and some time you may be as rich as he,” said the captain, closing the remark with a laugh, for which our hero could see no good reason.

“I should like to be rich, for my mother’s sake,” said Harry, seriously.

“For your mother’s sake, of course. Let me see,—what’s the name of the town you come from?”

“Vernon.”

“Ah, yes, I think I’ve heard of it. A small place, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, it’s only a village.”

“Any rich people there?”

“There’s one,—Squire Turner.”

“Squire Turner?” repeated Brandon. “What sort of a man is he?”

He asked the question carelessly, but fixed his eyes on Harry as he spoke. It will be remembered that Squire Turner, unwilling to trust his scapegrace cousin too far, had carefully kept hidden from him the cause of his hostility to our hero. This naturally stimulated the curiosity of Brandon, to whom it occurred that he might, by questioning the boy, draw out the truth.

“He’s quite a prominent man in Vernon,” answered Harry, cautiously.

“I suppose he is popular, also.”

“Not very popular.”

“Why not?”

“He is not very liberal.”

“Then you don’t like him?”

“I haven’t had much to do with him.”

“Confound him! why don’t he speak out?” said Brandon to himself. It occurred to him, however, that further questions, respecting a man whom he was not supposed to know, might excite the suspicions of the boy, and he refrained.

Meanwhile Harry, who had a healthy boy’s appetite, had commenced eating his second sandwich, but he had not again tasted of the ale.

“Come,” said Captain Brandon, “suppose we drink success to the Sea Eagle, and a quick and prosperous voyage.”

So saying, he placed the glass to his lips.

“With pleasure,” responded Harry, following his example. He merely tasted the ale, however, and then set down the glass.

“That will never do, my lad,” said the captain. “It is always usual, on such occasions, to drain the glass.”

“I don’t like ale very well.”

“But you won’t refuse to drink it, under such circumstances?”

Fearing that his refusal might be misconstrued, Harry gulped down the liquid, though with some difficulty.

“Come, that’s well,” said the captain, with satisfaction. “I won’t ask you to drink any more. Now suppose I tell you a little of the countries I have visited. We sailors see strange things.”

“I should be glad to have you,” said our hero, thinking that the captain took great pains to please him.

Brandon launched out into a long and circumstantial account of Brazil, and afterwards of Australia, both of which he had visited. Harry listened at first with interest, but gradually a strange sensation of drowsiness came over him. His eyes drooped heavily, and it was with a continual effort that he kept them open. The captain lowered his voice, and kept talking in a low, monotonous tone that helped the effect of the sleeping potion which, unobserved, he had mingled with the ale in Harry’s glass.

“I feel sleepy,” said our hero, at length, after making a desperate effort to keep awake. “It is strange, so early in the day.”

“I observed you found it hard to keep awake. I suppose it is the noise and bustle of the city, to which you are not accustomed. I’ll tell you what, my lad, I’ve got a little business to attend to on deck. As I shan’t go back to Nassau Street for an hour or two I’ll give you that time for a nap.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, drowsily. “Won’t Mr. Fairchild think it strange, my being away so long?”

“I’ll make it all right with him. He’s very good-natured. So just lie down, and have your nap out.”

Harry lay down, and in two minutes his senses were locked in profound repose. Captain Brandon looked at him with satisfaction as he lay stretched out before him.

“It was a lucky thought of mine, the sleeping potion,” he said to himself. “He’s polite enough, but there’s plenty of will and determination about him. I can see that by the cut of his lip. He might have made me considerable trouble. Now, he’s safe to sleep eighteen hours at least, unless the druggist deceived me.”

He went on deck, taking care, however, to lock the cabin door behind him. On the deck he met Mr. Hawkes, the mate.

“Well, Mr. Hawkes,” he said, “what is the prospect?”

“I think we shall get off in an hour, Captain Brandon.”

“Good.”

“I didn’t quite understand about the lad you had with you. Does he sail with us?”

“Yes.”

“As cabin-boy?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know it.”

“Ah, I see,” said Hawkes, nodding intelligently.

“His friends have thought it best to send him to sea, but he is obstinate and headstrong, and might make trouble; so I agreed to manage it.”

He briefly related the strategy of which he had made use. The mate laughed approvingly.

“We’ll make a sailor of him before we get through,” he said.

“No doubt of it.”

Meanwhile our hero, wrapped in a sleep unnaturally profound, slumbered on happily unconscious of the unjustifiable plot which had been contrived against him. On deck all was bustle and hurry. The pilot was all ready on board, the sailors were hurrying about in obedience to the quick commands of the officers, the creaking of cordage was heard, and in a short time the Sea Eagle had commenced her voyage. But Harry heard nothing. His slumber was profound. His career as an office-boy was at an end, and after one brief day in the great city he was drifting away unconsciously from home and friends, in the power of a reckless man, from whose despotism there was no appeal.

I am quite sure that my young readers will all sympathize with Harry. His misfortune was in no sense occasioned by his misconduct. He had left home with a firm determination to do his duty, and work his way upward to a position where he could be of service to his mother and sister; but all his plans seemed disastrously interrupted.

But I do not despair of Harry yet. Hitherto his course has been smooth, and he has had no opportunity of showing what he is. Difficulties develop strength of character, and it is pretty clear that Harry has got into difficulties, and those of a serious kind.

Will he sink or swim?

CHAPTER XIX.
HARRY REALIZES HIS POSITION.

For eighteen hours that long, unnatural sleep held our hero in its benumbing grasp. For eighteen hours he lay utterly unconscious of what was passing around. But at the end of that time sleep loosened its hold upon him. He opened his eyes and looked bewildered. He was almost instantly made aware that the vessel was in motion. On standing up he found himself staggering from one side of the cabin to the other, for a brisk wind had sprung up, causing considerable motion to the ship.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Harry, in dismay, “the vessel has started. What will Mr. Fairchild say? He will think I have run away.”

He blamed himself very much for having fallen asleep, but, not yet suspecting bad faith on the captain’s part, could not understand why he had not been waked up in time to go on shore.

He hurried to the cabin door, and tried to open it, but in vain. It was securely locked.

“What can it mean?” thought our hero, in utter bewilderment.

He shook the door, and called out at the top of his voice:—

“Captain Brandon, let me out!”

There was no answer.

Harry continued calling for five minutes, shaking the door meanwhile. At last, indignant, and for the first time suspecting that something was wrong, he began to kick against the panels violently, calling out:—

“Captain Brandon!”

This time he received attention. Steps were heard outside, a key was put in the lock, and the captain made his appearance.

“What are you kicking up such a row about?” he demanded, harshly.

“Has the vessel sailed?” asked Harry, anxiously.

“Yes, it has.”

“But I am not to go. Can’t you send me on shore?”

The captain answered this appeal, with a horse-laugh.

“Look here, youngster, how far do you think we are from New York?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll tell you. We have sailed so far about a hundred and fifty miles.”

“A hundred and fifty miles!” ejaculated our hero, his breath almost taken away at the magnitude of this disaster.

“Yes, a little more than that possibly. Perhaps you’d like to have me send you back in a small boat?”

“How long have I been asleep?” asked Harry, finding the captain’s statement almost incredible.

“You went to sleep yesterday about noon, and now it’s the next morning.”

“Is this true?”

“Do you dare to question the truth of anything I say, you impudent young rascal?” said the captain, fiercely.

Harry had not got over his bewilderment. He understood how he was situated, and that his misfortune was due to the captain’s neglect to wake him up.

“Captain Brandon,” he said, calmly, “you promised to wake me up, and send me on shore. Why didn’t you do it?”

“Do you think I’m going to be catechised by such a young lubber as you?” demanded Captain Brandon, with an oath.

“You’ve served me a mean trick,” said Harry indignantly, facing the captain with his youthful form drawn up, and his face flushed with anger.

“Young man, do you know where you are?” said the captain, sternly.

“I am where I ought not to be. In the cabin of the Sea Eagle.”

“And do you know who I am?”

“You are the captain.”

“You are right there. I command this vessel, and all on board, and I won’t tolerate any mutiny;” qualifying the last word with an oath.

“You have no authority over me, Captain Brandon,” said Harry, proudly. “You have entrapped me on board this vessel. I am not here of my own free will, and you have no more authority over me than you have over the president of the United States.”

“You think I haven’t, eh?”

“I know you have not,” said our hero, firmly.

“Then you’ll find yourself mistaken, my lad; that’s all about it.”

“As long as I am obliged to remain on board, I am a passenger, and claim to be treated as such.”

“Then suppose you pay your fare,” said Captain Brandon, with a malicious smile.

“I can’t do it, and I don’t feel bound to, for I didn’t want to come.”

“You’re mighty independent,” sneered the captain; “and I have no doubt it will suit you excellently to get your board and passage for nothing. But I may have something to say to that.”

“What will Mr. Fairchild say when I don’t come back?” said Harry, in a troubled voice, rather to himself than with the expectation of an answer.

Captain Brandon laughed.

“He’ll think you have run away.”

“Yes, I suppose he will,” said Harry, disturbed.

“Of course he will.”

“And what will my mother think?” resumed Harry, sorrowfully.

“Oh, she’ll think you’ve been led away, and got into some scrape or other,” said the captain, lightly. “However, she’ll see you again in eighteen months, that is, if we have a fair voyage.”

“Eighteen months!” repeated our hero, in dismay.

“Yes, it’s a long ways to China. You’ll be quite a sailor by the end of that time.”

“I don’t intend to be a sailor,” said Harry.

“Don’t say that again, you impudent young scoundrel. Do you think I will let my cabin-boy address me in that style?”

“I am not your cabin-boy,” said Harry, indignantly.

“That’s your mistake. You’ve got to work your passage. I shan’t allow any skulkers aboard this ship.”

This speech, as well as most of the captain’s, was garnished with oaths, which I choose to omit, though at the risk of conveying an inadequate idea of his brutality and coarseness. Our hero was greatly exasperated at the mean plot which had been concocted against him, and being of a fearless temperament would have given full and free expression to his indignation, and a scene of violence would no doubt have resulted, but for the opportune entrance of Mr. Weldon, the supercargo.

Mr. Weldon was a young man, not over twenty-five, a nephew of the owner of the vessel, and had been sent out as supercargo, with the intention of remaining in China for two or three years in a branch establishment of his uncle’s house. On account of his connection with the firm by whom he was employed, Captain Brandon found it prudent to treat him with more respect than in ordinary circumstances he would have paid to the supercargo.

“Good-morning, Captain Brandon,” said the young man.

“Good-morning, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, smoothing his face, and lowering his arm, which had been raised to strike Harry. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Not sea-sick as yet; but I don’t know how soon it may be on. I am in no hurry for it, I can assure you. But who is this young gentleman?”

“You are joking, Mr. Weldon,” said the captain. “We don’t usually address cabin-boys as young gentlemen on board ship.”

“Is he your cabin-boy?” asked Weldon, in surprise; for Harry was not, it will be remembered, dressed in sailor rig.

“No, I am not,” said Harry, boldly.

“Shut up!” said the captain, sharply, with a threatening look. “He’s a headstrong young rascal, whom his friends have placed in my charge, with intentions to make a sailor of him.”

“That is not true. I was trapped on board this vessel,” said our hero.

“I used a little stratagem, knowing that I would have trouble otherwise,” said the captain, who would not have deigned any explanation to any other than the nephew of his employer, in whose estimation he wished to stand well. “But now he’s on board, I shall carry out the wishes of his friends, and he will find it for his interest not to make any trouble,” he added, with a significant look directed towards our hero.

At this moment the captain was summoned to the deck, and Harry found himself alone with the supercargo.

“Mr. Weldon,” said our hero, suddenly, making up his mind to secure the young man as a friend if possible, “do you go with us to China?”

“Yes, my boy.”

“Will you be my friend?”

Such an appeal, coming from a frank, manly boy, was not easily to be resisted.

Mr. Weldon took the hand so frankly offered, and said:—

“I will be your friend. I believe you are a good boy.”

“Don’t believe what Captain Brandon has told you. It is absolutely false. I never saw or heard of him till two days since, and he does not know any of my friends. He induced me to come on board this ship on false pretences, and I think must have given me something to make me sleep, for I became sleepy at once, and have slept, as he tells me, ever since yesterday noon.”

“This is a strange story. What can be his object?”

“I don’t know that; but he has got me into his power, and I need a friend.”

“What is your name?”

“Harry Raymond.”

“Then, Harry,” said the young man, warmly pressing his hand, “I will be that friend. If what you say is true, you have been badly treated. I think I have some influence over Captain Brandon, for he is in the employ of my uncle’s firm. That influence shall be exerted in your favor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weldon,” said Harry, gratefully.

“I wish you would tell me a little more about yourself that I may understand your position fully If the captain comes down, you can suspend your story till another time.”

“First, I want to ask your advice on one point,” said Harry.

“What is that?”

“The captain claims that I must work my passage as cabin-boy. What shall I do?”

“Have you a great objection to the duties of a cabin-boy?”

“I would not have come on board the vessel of my own free will. I don’t like to be forced into going in such a position.”

“That is a natural feeling; but I am not sure whether it will not be best to yield in the present instance. A captain on board of his own vessel is a monarch, and has almost supreme power. This is very often abused; but I suppose it is necessary that he should possess it. I don’t know what sort of a man this Captain Brandon is; but you had better not needlessly provoke him. Besides, I suppose you wish to be earning something, and, as cabin-boy, you will be entitled to wages.”

“Suppose the captain should ill-treat me?”

“I will stand your friend,” said the supercargo, earnestly.

“Then,” said Harry, after a moment’s thought, “I will not oppose the captain’s wishes. I will do my duty, but I won’t submit to be imposed upon.”

The entrance of the captain at this point prevented our hero from communicating the details of his story to his new friend.

CHAPTER XX.
HARRY GETS INTO TROUBLE.

Captain Brandon entered the cabin, carrying under his arm a cabin-boy’s suit.

“It’s time you entered upon your duties,” he said. “Put on these clothes.”

He expected a renewal of Harry’s remonstrances; but our hero had made up his mind what to do. It was no use crying over spilt milk. Since he was on board the Sea Eagle, however much against his will, he would make the best of a disagreeable position. He had confidence in the judgment and friendship of the supercargo, whom he liked, notwithstanding their brief acquaintance, and he resolved to accept the situation, and do his best in it. When, therefore, the captain held out the cabin-boy’s suit, Harry took it quietly, asking:—

“Where shall I put it on?”

“You can put it on here,” said the captain, looking at him curiously. Remembering the state of fiery indignation which our hero displayed a few minutes before, he was not prepared for this quiet acquiescence.

“So you’ve changed your mind, have you?” he asked.

“No, Captain Brandon,” answered Hurry, firmly. “I have been treacherously entrapped on board this vessel, and I remain here against my will; but as long as I stay I may as well have something to do. I will act as cabin-boy, and shall expect to receive a cabin-boy’s wages.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve turned sensible,” said Brandon. “It would have been the worse for you if you hadn’t.”

“I don’t intend to deceive you as to my intentions, Captain Brandon,” continued Harry, boldly. “I mean to leave this ship the first chance I get.”

“That won’t be very soon,” sneered Brandon; “as I don’t expect to stop anywhere till I reach China. If you want to leave me there, I shan’t take any great pains to catch you.”

By this time Harry had changed his clothes, and had all the appearance of a young sailor.

“Now go and report yourself to the mate,” said Captain Brandon.

Harry left the cabin, and went up on deck. He saw and recognized the man to whom the captain had spoken the day before, and walked up to him.

“I believe you are the mate, sir,” he said.

“Well, my lad, and who are you? The new cabin-boy?”

“Yes, sir. The captain ordered me to report to you.”

“Tom Patch!” said the mate, calling one of the sailors near by.

Tom Patch came forward, hitching up his pants, as he advanced with a regular sailor’s roll. He had a short, square-built figure, and a face bronzed by exposure to the suns of every clime. But his expression was honest and intelligent, not brutish and stupid, as is the case with many who have followed the sea for years without rising above the position of a common sailor.

“Show him his bunk. Patch, and break him in.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Patch, turning to Harry, whom he surveyed with interest.

“Come with me, my lad,” he said.

They descended into the forecastle, where Harry was assigned a bunk near that of the sailor under whose care he had been placed.

“You’re a green hand, I reckon, my lad,” said Tom.

“Yes,” said our hero.

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to sea. I don’t see how folks can be contented to live on shore.”

“Do you mean that?” asked Harry, rather amused.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I don’t agree with you. I’d rather be on land.”

“Mayhap you’ve been sea-sick. You’ll get over it soon, and then you’ll find it jolly.”

“No, I have not been sick; but I don’t like the sea.”

“Then what brought you here?” said Tom, in natural wonder.

“Captain Brandon. He served me a mean trick.”

“Avast there, my lad!” said Tom, lowering his voice, and looking around him significantly. “It aint best to talk ag’in the cap’n, leastways so he can hear.”

“I’m not afraid,” said our hero, firmly. “I told him so myself.”

“What’s that?” asked Tom, incredulously.

“I told Captain Brandon he had served me a mean trick.”

“And he knocked you down with a belaying-pin?” suggested Tom.

“No, he didn’t,” said Harry, quietly.

“Then you got off easy. Better not say it ag’in, my lad.”

“It’s true.”

“Never mind that. It aint best to tell the truth at all times. You shall spin me the yarn some time when we are snugly stowed away out of earshot, my lad. Now we must go to work.”

Harry accompanied Tom to the deck, and his experience as a sailor commenced.

I do not propose to give a detailed account of what these duties were, as this does not profess to be a sea-story, and will touch the sea only so far as it may prove necessary to make Harry’s position understood. Days passed away, and in accordance with the resolution he had formed our hero attended strictly to duty. Being a smart boy, he very soon mastered the details of his duties, and discharged them in such a manner that no fault could justly be found with him. But Captain Brandon continued to view him with an eye of suspicion. He had not forgotten nor forgiven the bold and defiant manner in which Harry had expressed himself when he first realized that he had been entrapped on board the Sea Eagle. He blamed himself now that he had not inflicted a humiliating punishment upon Harry at the time, and he carefully scrutinized his conduct in order to find a pretext for paying off the old score.

But Harry thus far gave him no opportunity. He had not made any complaints against the captain to any one except Tom Patch, to whom he told his whole story, winning the stout-hearted sailor’s sympathy and friendship. Thus Harry felt that he had one friend on the vessel; nay, two, for the supercargo, of whom mention has already been made, had by no means forgotten the promise he made to our hero to be his friend. He frequently approached him when at work, and conversed with him in a pleasant manner, as with an equal, never putting on an air of condescension, as some in his position would have done.

This intimacy and evident good feeling between the supercargo and our hero, Captain Brandon saw with dissatisfaction. He had tried to cultivate an intimacy with Mr. Weldon himself, from motives of policy, on account of his relationship to the owner of the ship, and the probability that he would some day be himself a member of the firm; but it had not taken the supercargo long to ascertain the real character of the captain, in which he found very little to attract him. So, though he treated Captain Brandon with scrupulous civility, there was a coolness in his manner which effectually precluded any degree of intimacy. The captain saw this and chafed at it. It humiliated him, yet he could not resent it. The young man was studiously polite and respectful, and gave him no cause for complaint. But he saw that his ceremonious politeness melted away when he spoke to Harry Raymond whom he addressed in a cordial, kindly manner which bespoke friendship. Captain Brandon brooded over this, being of a jealous, suspicious temper, and resolved, on the first occasion that presented itself, to take vengeance upon Harry, and thus at once gratify his dislike for our hero and the supercargo.

There was another member of the ship’s crew whom it will be necessary to introduce.

This was Jack Rodman, a boy somewhat older than Harry, and as different from our hero as can well be imagined. He was coarse, ignorant, and vicious, and could swear with as great fluency as any sailor twice his age. He made at first some approaches to intimacy with our hero, but Harry was too disgusted with what he had seen of him to care much about striking up a friendship. On this account Jack bore a grudge against our hero, and would have played some mischievous trick upon him but for Tom Patch’s evident friendship for Harry. Jack was afraid of the stout sailor, and felt compelled to effect his object in an underhand manner.

Among the peculiarities of Captain Brandon’s appearance was a very long nose, which, however useful it might be to the owner, was far from ornamental. Brandon was aware of the prominence of this feature, and felt sensitive about it. As a boy he had been annoyed by the jocose allusions of his school-fellows to it, and nothing disturbed his temper more now than any reference to it, or even a significant glance at it. Jack Rodman had observed this peculiarity in the captain, and determined to take advantage of it in order to get Harry into trouble.

One night, unobserved as he supposed, he drew with a piece of chalk a rude caricature of the captain’s face, in a part of the vessel where it would be likely to be seen by Brandon. The size of the nose was exaggerated, but there was also in the other features a general resemblance to the captain, so that it was quite evident who was meant.

Jack supposed that he was unobserved, and so he might have been but for the accidental approach of the supercargo.

Mr. Weldon glanced at what Jack was doing, and a smile came to his face. He was rather amused by the caricature, and, having no very particular regard for the captain, passed on in silence, not feeling called upon to interfere.

The next morning Captain Brandon, in pacing the deck, suddenly came face to face with the caricature, which had not been effaced.

Instantly the blood rushed to his face. He could see the resemblance himself; and that made the matter worse. He felt that it was an insult to him, and he determined to visit condign punishment upon the perpetrator of the insulting joke, if he could find him out.