CHAPTER XV.

  THE ROOM UNDER THE WHARF.

  It was at a late hour when the boys left the theatre. The play had beenof a highly sensational character, and had been greeted withenthusiastic applause on the part of the audience, particularly theoccupants of the "pit." Now, as they emerged from the portals of thetheatre, various characteristic remarks of a commendatory character wereinterchanged.

  "How'd you like it, Ben?" asked Barney.

  "Bully," said Ben.

  "I liked the fight best," said Barney. "Jones give it to him just aboutright."

  "Yes, that was good," said Ben; "but I liked it best where Alphonso saysto Montmorency, 'Caitiff, beware, or, by the heavens above, my trustysword shall drink thy foul heart's blood!'"

  Ben gave this with the stage emphasis, so far as he could imitate it.Barney listened admiringly.

  "I say, Ben," he replied, "you did that bully. You'd make a tip-topactor."

  "Would I?" said Ben, complacently. "I think I'd like to try it if I knewenough. How much money have you got, Barney?"

  "Nary a red. I spent the last on peanuts."

  "Just my case. We'll have to find some place to turn in for the night."

  "I know a place," said Barney, "if they'll let us in."

  "Whereabouts is it?"

  "Down to Dover Street wharf."

  "What sort of a place is it? There aint any boxes or old wagons, arethere?"

  "No, it's under the wharf,--a bully place."

  "Under the wharf! It's wet, isn't it?"

  "No, you just come along. I'll show you."

  Having no other place to suggest, Ben accepted his companion's guidance,and the two made their way by the shortest route to the wharf named. Itis situated not far from Fulton Ferry on the east side. It may be calleda double wharf. As originally built, it was found too low for the classof vessels that used it, and another flooring was built over the first,leaving a considerable space between the two. Its capabilities for aprivate rendezvous occurred to a few boys, who forthwith proceeded toavail themselves of it. It was necessary to carry on their proceedingssecretly; otherwise there was danger of interference from the citypolice. What steps they took to make their quarters comfortable willshortly be described.

  When they reached the wharf, Barney looked about him with an air ofcaution, which Ben observed.

  "What are you scared of?" asked Ben.

  "We mustn't let the 'copp' see us," said Barney, "Don't make no noise."

  Thus admonished, Ben followed his companion with as little noise aspossible.

  "How do you get down there?" he asked.

  "I'll show you," said Barney.

  He went to the end of the wharf, and, motioning Ben to look over, showedhim a kind of ladder formed by nailing strips of wood, at regularintervals, from the outer edge down to the water's edge. This was notan arrangement of the boys, but was for the accommodation of river-boatslanding at the wharf.

  "I'll go down first," whispered Barney. "If the 'copp' comes along, moveoff, so he won't notice nothin'."

  "All right!" said Ben.

  Barney got part way down the ladder, when a head was protruded frombelow, and a voice demanded, "Who's there?"

  "It's I,--Barney Flynn."

  "Come along, then."

  "I've got a fellow with me," continued Barney.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's Ben, the baggage-smasher. He wants to stop here to-night."

  "All right; we can trust him."

  "Come along, Ben," Barney called up the ladder.

  Ben quickly commenced the descent. Barney was waiting for him, and heldout his hand to help him off. Our hero stepped from the ladder upon thelower flooring of the wharf, and looked about him with some curiosity.It was certainly a singular spectacle that met his view. About a dozenboys were congregated in the room under the wharf, and had evidentlytaken some pains to make themselves comfortable. A carpet of good sizewas spread over a portion of the flooring. Upon this three beds werespread, each occupied by three boys. Those who could not be accommodatedin this way laid on the carpet. Some of the boys were already asleep;two were smoking, and conversing in a low voice. Looking about him Benrecognized acquaintances in several of them.[A]

  "Is that you, Mike Sweeny?" he asked of a boy stretched out on thenearest bed.

  "Yes," said Mike; "come and lay alongside of me."

  There was no room on the bed, but Ben found space beside it on thecarpet, and accordingly stretched himself out.

  [A] The description of the room under the wharf, and the circumstancesof its occupation by a company of street boys, are not imaginary. It wasfinally discovered, and broken up by the police, the details beinggiven, at the time, in the daily papers, as some of my New York readerswill remember. Discovery did not take place, however, until it had beenoccupied some time.

  "How do you like it?" asked Mike.

  "Tip-top," said Ben. "How'd you get the carpet and beds? Did you buy'em?"

  "Yes," said Mike, with a wink; "but the man wasn't in, and we didn't payfor 'em."

  "You stole them, then?"

  "We took 'em," said Mike, who had an objection to the word stole.

  "How did you get them down here without the copp seein' you?"

  "We hid 'em away in the daytime, and didn't bring 'em here till night.We came near gettin' caught."

  "How long have you been down here?"

  "Most a month."

  "It's a good place."

  "Yes," said Mike, "and the rent is very reasonable. We don't have to paynothin' for lodgin'. It's cheaper'n the Lodge."

  "That's so," said Ben. "I'm sleepy," he said, gaping. "I've been to theOld Bowery to-night. Good-night!"

  "Good-night!"

  In five minutes Ben was fast asleep. Half an hour later, and not a soundwas heard in the room under the wharf except the occasional deepbreathing of some of the boys. The policeman who trod his beat near bylittle suspected that just at hand, and almost under his feet, was arendezvous of street vagrants and juvenile thieves, for such I am sorryto say was the character of some of the boys who frequented these cheaplodgings.

  In addition to the articles already described there were two or threechairs, which had been contributed by different members of theorganization.

  Ben slept soundly through the night. When he woke up, the gray morninglight entering from the open front towards the sea had already lightedup indistinctly the space between the floors. Two or three of the boyswere already sitting up, yawning and stretching themselves after theirnight's slumber. Among these was Mike Sweeny.

  "Are you awake, Ben?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Ben; "I didn't hardly know where I was at first."

  "It's a bully place, isn't it?"

  "That's so. How'd you come across it?"

  "Oh, some of us boys found it out. We've been sleepin' here a month."

  "Won't you let a feller in?"

  "We might let you in. I'll speak to the boys."

  "I'd like to sleep here," said Ben. "It's a good deal better thansleepin' out round. Who runs the hotel?"

  "Well, I'm one of 'em."

  "You might call it Sweeny's Hotel," suggested Ben, laughing.

  "I aint the boss; Jim Bagley's got most to do with it."

  "Which is he?"

  "That's he, over on the next bed."

  "What does he do?"

  "He's a travellin' match merchant."

  "That sounds big."

  "Jim's smart,--he is. He makes more money'n any of us."

  "Where does he travel?"

  "Once he went to Californy in the steamer. He got a steerage ticket forseventy-five dollars; but he made more'n that blackin' boots for theother passengers afore they got there. He stayed there three months, andthen came home."

  "Does he travel now?"

  "Yes, he buys a lot of matches, and goes up the river or down intoJersey, and is gone a week. A little while ago he went to Buffalo."

  "Oh, yes; I know where that is."


  "Blest if I do."

  "It's in the western part of York State, just across from Canada."

  "Who told you?"

  "I learned it in school."

  "I didn't know you was a scholar, Ben."

  "I aint now. I've forgot most all I ever knew. I haven't been to schoolsince I was ten years old."

  "Where was that?"

  "In the country."

  "Well, I never went to school more'n a few weeks. I can read a little,but not much."

  "It costs a good deal to go to Buffalo. How did Jim make it while he wasgone?"

  "Oh, he came home with ten dollars in his pocket besides payin' hisexpenses."

  "What does Jim do with all his money?"

  "He's got a mother and sister up in Bleecker Street, or somewheres roundthere. He pays his mother five dollars a week, besides takin' care ofhimself."

  "Why don't he live with his mother?"

  "He'd rather be round with the boys."

  I may remark here that Jim Bagley is a real character, and all that hasbeen said about him is derived from information given by himself, in aconversation held with him at the Newsboys' Lodging House. He figureshere, however, under an assumed name, partly because the record in whichhis real name is preserved has been mislaid. The impression made uponthe mind of the writer was, that Jim had unusual business ability andself-reliance, and might possibly develop into a successful andprosperous man of business.

  Jim by this time was awake.

  "Jim Bagley," said Mike, "here's a feller would like to put up at ourhotel."

  "Who is he?" asked Jim.

  The travelling match merchant, as Mike had described him, was a boy offifteen, rather small of his age, with a keen black eye, and a quick,decided, business-like way.

  "It's this feller,--he's a baggage-smasher," explained Mike.

  "All right," said Jim; "he can come if he'll pay his share."

  "How much is it?" asked Ben.

  Mike explained that it was expected of each guest to bring somethingthat would add to the comforts of the rendezvous. Two boys hadcontributed the carpet, for which probably they had paid nothing; Jimhad supplied a bed, for which he did pay, as "taking things withoutleave" was not in his line. Three boys had each contributed a chair.Thus all the articles which had been accumulated were individualcontributions. Ben promised to pay his admission fee in the same way,but expressed a doubt whether he might not have to wait a few days, inorder to save money enough to make a purchase. He never stole himself,though his association with street boys, whose principles are notalways very strict on this point, had accustomed him to regard theft asa venial fault, provided it was not found out. For his own part,however, he did not care to run the risk of detection. Though he had cuthimself off from his old home, he still felt that he should not like tohave the report reach home that he had been convicted of dishonesty.

  At an early hour the boys shook off their slumbers, and one by one leftthe wharf to enter upon their daily work. The newsboys were the first togo, as they must be on hand at the newspaper offices early to get theirsupply of papers, and fold them in readiness for early customers. Theboot-blacks soon followed, as most of them were under the necessity ofearning their breakfast before they ate it. Ben also got up early, andmade his way to the pier of the Stonington line of steamers from Boston.These usually arrived at an early hour, and there was a good chance of ajob in Ben's line when the passengers landed.