Boys -- Juvenile fiction; New England -- Juvenile fiction
Now, as the fare to and from Boston, with the lodging expenses, would
cost him at least five dollars, I didn't see what he gained by winning
the wager. The Admiral rubbed his nose violently when this view of the
case presented itself.
I asked him why he didn't take me from the train at the first
stopping-place and return to Rivermouth by the down train at 4.30. He
explained having purchased a ticket for Boston, he considered himself
bound to the owners (the stockholders of the road) to fulfil his part of
the contract! To use his own words, he had “shipped for the viage.”
This struck me as being so deliciously funny, that after I was in bed
and the light was out, I couldn't help laughing aloud once or twice. I
suppose the Admiral must have thought I was meditating another escape,
for he made periodical visits to my bed throughout the night, satisfying
himself by kneading me all over that I hadn't evaporated.
I was all there the next morning, when Sailor Ben half awakened me by
shouting merrily, “All hands on deck!” The words rang in my ears like a
part of my own dream, for I was at that instant climbing up the side of
the Rawlings to offer myself as cabin-boy.
The Admiral was obliged to shake me roughly two or three times before he
could detach me from the dream. I opened my eyes with effort, and stared
stupidly round the room. Bit by bit my real situation dawned on me.
'What a sickening sensation that is, when one is in trouble, to wake up
feeling free for a moment, and then to find yesterday's sorrow all ready
to go on again!
“'Well, little messmate, how fares it?”
I was too much depressed to reply. The thought of returning to
Rivermouth chilled me. How could I face Captain Nutter, to say nothing
of Miss Abigail and Kitty? How the Temple Grammar School boys would look
at me! How Conway and Seth Rodgers would exult over my mortification!
And what if the Rev. Wibird Hawkins should allude to me in his next
Sunday's sermon?
Sailor Ben was wise in keeping an eye on me, for after these thoughts
took possession of my mind, I wanted only the opportunity to give him
the slip.
The keeper of the lodgings did not supply meals to his guests; so we
breakfasted at a small chophouse in a crooked street on our way to the
cars. The city was not astir yet, and looked glum and careworn in the
damp morning atmosphere.
Here and there as we passed along was a sharp-faced shop-boy taking down
shutters; and now and then we met a seedy man who had evidently spent
the night in a doorway. Such early birds and a few laborers with their
tin kettles were the only signs of life to be seen until we came to the
station, where I insisted on paying for my own ticket. I didn't relish
being conveyed from place to place, like a felon changing prisons, at
somebody else's expense.
On entering the car I sunk into a seat next the window, and Sailor Ben
deposited himself beside me, cutting off all chance of escape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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