CHAPTER I.
"KEEP OUT."
It was a small but by no means feeble-looking boy who stood in frontof a driveway disclosed by the opening of huge gates which, until theyhad been swung inward, appeared to have been a portion of the highfence of boards.
There was seemingly no inducement for a boy to linger in thisvicinity, unless, indeed, it might have been the sign posted eitherside the gate, on which was painted in letters rendered conspicuousbecause of the vivid colouring, the forbidding words, "Keep Out."
"I'll not keep out 'less I'm minded to, an' him as can hold me thisside the fence needs to be spry on his feet," the small boy said, halfto himself, and with a gesture of defiance which told he had not beenaccustomed to obeying commands that might be evaded.
Through the gateway nothing could be seen save enormous heaps of coal,some enclosed in pens formed of planks as if to prevent them frommingling with the others, and between all a path or road of no morethan sufficient width to permit the passage of a cart. In thedistance, a rough building abruptly closed the view, and beyond it thepuffing of steam and rattle of iron implements told of life andactivity.
Outside the fence, it was as if this certain portion of the city hadbeen temporarily deserted; but one could hear the rumble of wheelsover the pavements on either hand, giving token that the coalyard wassituated just beyond the line of city traffic.
The boy gazed into the uninviting-looking place as if fascinated, onlyglancing up now and then at the signs which mutely forbade hisentrance, and, as if unconscious of his movements, stole slowly nearerand nearer the gateway until he stood directly on the line thatseparated the yard from the sidewalk.
"If I wanted to go in, it's more'n a couple of signs that could keepme out," he muttered, threateningly, and then, with one backwardglance to assure himself that no unfriendly policeman was watchingfrom the distance, the boy darted forward, taking refuge behind thenearest heap of coal, lest an enemy should be lurking near at hand.
Save for the hum of labour everywhere around, he heard nothing. Noguardian of the smutty premises appeared to forbid his entrance, andafter waiting a full minute to make certain it was safe to advance yetfarther, he left one place of partial concealment for the next in hisproposed line of march.
So far as he could see, there was no other guardian of the yard savethe two signs at the entrance, and the only purpose they served was tochallenge him.
Grown bolder as the moments passed without bringing to light an enemy,the lad advanced more rapidly until he stood, partially concealed byone of the pens, where it was possible to have a full view of all thatwas being done in this place to which the public were not supposed tobe admitted.
If the intruder had braved the unknown dangers of the yard simply inorder to gratify his curiosity, then had he paid a higher price thanthe view warranted.
The building, which from the street appeared to mark the end of theenclosure, was a structure wherein puffing engines, grimy men, longlengths of moving chains, and enormous iron cars or boxes weresheltered from the sun or rain. In front of it a wooden wall extendeddown into the water,--a pier perhaps it might be called,--and at thispier, held fast by hemp and iron cables, lay a gigantic steamer builtof iron.
The intruder gave no heed to the busy men and machinery within thebuilding. The vessel, so powerful, but lying there apparentlyhelpless, enchained his attention until he had made mental note ofevery spar, or boat, or cable within his range of vision.
Then, suddenly, from somewhere amid the chains, and cars, and puffingsteam, came the shrill blast of a whistle, and as if by magic allactivity ceased.
The engines no longer breathed with a heavy clank; cars and chainscame to a standstill, and men moved quietly away here or there as ifhaving no more interest in the hurly-burly.
One of the weary labourers, his face begrimed with coal-dust until itwas not possible to distinguish the colour of his skin, took from itsnear-by hiding-place a dinner-pail, and came directly toward where thesmall boy was overlooking the scene.
Within two yards of the lad the dusty man sat down, brushed the endsof his fingers on his trousers, rather from force of habit than withany idea of cleansing them, and without further delay began to eat hisdinner.
The boy eyed him hungrily, looked around quickly to make certain thatthere were no others dangerously near, and stepped out from behind hisscreen of coal.
"You'd better keep an eye out for the watchman," the man said,speaking indistinctly because of the bread in his mouth, and the boyreplied, defiantly:
"I'd like to see the watchman 'round here that I'm 'fraid of, an'besides, he couldn't catch me."
"What'er you doin' here?"
"Nothin'."
"A boy of your size has got no business to be loafin' 'round doin'nothin'."
"I might be eatin' if I had a chance; but there hasn't been much of anopenin' for me in that line this quite a spell."
"Hungry?"
"Give me a piece of that bread an' I'll show yer."
"Don't you do anything for a livin'?" the man asked passing the lad agenerous slice from the loaf.
"Course I do."
"What?"
"Anything that pays. I've sold papers some since the Spaniards got sofunny; but it ain't any great snap, only once in awhile when the newsis humpin' itself. A feller gets stuck mighty often, an' I'm thinkin'of tryin' somethin' else."
"Where's your folks?"
"I ain't got any to speak of now, since my father got giddy an' wentoff to war."
"Out for a soldier, eh?"
"Not a bit of it! He shovels coal aboard one of them big steamersthat's down smashin' the life out'er Cuby, that's what he does, an'he's nobody's slouch, dad ain't!"
"What's your name?"
"Teddy Dunlap."
"Want more bread?"
The boy leaned over in order to look into the dinner-pail, and thensaid, promptly:
"I've had enough."
"Don't think you're robbin' me, 'cause you ain't. I believe in feedin'well, an' this is only my first pail. There's another over there thatI'll tackle later."
Teddy glanced in the direction pointed out by his new acquaintance,and, seeing a pail half concealed by some loose boards, at oncestretched out his hand, as he said:
"If you've got plenty, I don't care if I do have another piece of thatbread."
"Can't you earn enough to keep you in food?" and the man gave to theboy a most appetising sandwich.
"Say, that's a dandy! It's half meat, too! Them you get down-towndon't have more'n the shadow of a ham bone inside the bread! Course Imake enough to buy food; but you don't think I'm blowin' it all injest for a spread, eh?"
"Runnin' a bank?"
"Well, it's kind'er like that; I'm puttin' it all away, so's to godown to Cuby an' look after the old man. He allers did need me, an' Ican't see how he's been gettin' along alone."
"Where's your mother?"
"Died when I was a kid. Dad an' me boomed things in great shape tillhe got set on goin' to war, an' that broke it all up."
"Did he leave you behind to run wild?"
"Not much he didn't, 'cause he knows I can take care of myself; but heallowed to make money enough so's we could buy a place out in thecountry, where we'd have an imitation farm, an' live high. Oh, I'm allright, an' every time I catch a sucker like you there's jest so muchmore saved toward goin' down to Cuby. You see I never did take muchstock in dad's kitin' 'round fightin' Spaniards, an' since he left itseems as if I was mighty foolish to let him go, so I'm bound to bewhere he is, when things come my way."
"Look here, Teddy," and the dust-begrimed man spoke in a more kindlytone to the boy, "If your father is a coal-passer in the navy, an'that's what he seems to be, 'cordin' to your story, you couldn't seevery much of him, even though you was on board his vessel all thetime."
"Don't yer s'pose I know that? I ain't sich a baby that I count onbein' right under his nose; but I'm goin' to be somewhere n
ear the oldman in case he needs me."
"It seems as if you might get down to Cuba easier than earnin' themoney to pay your passage."
"How?" and Teddy ceased eating for the instant to look at this newfriend who had made a suggestion which interested him more thananything else could have done.
"Why don't you try to work your passage? Now, here's this 'eresteamer, loadin' with coal for the navy--perhaps goin' to the veryship your father is on. If you could jolly the captain into takin' youto do odd jobs, it would be a snap, alongside of payin' for a ticketan' trustin' to luck after gettin' there."
"Well, say! That would be a great racket if it could be worked! Is ita dead sure thing that the steamer's bound for our war-vessels?"
"That's what, though it ain't to be said that she'll be goin' to thevery craft your father's on. All I know is Uncle Sam has bought thiscoal, an' it's bein' taken out to our navy somewhere 'round Cuba."
"I don't reckon any but them what enlists can go aboard the steamer,an' the snap can't be worked, for I've tried four times to get takenon as a sailor."
"But bless your heart, this 'ere craft is only a chartered collier."
"A what?"
"I mean she's only a freighter that Uncle Sam has hired to carry coal.You won't find enlisted men aboard of her."
"An' do you really think there's a chance for me?"
"I can't say as to that, lad; but I'd make a try for a berth aboard ifmy mind was set on goin' into that part of the world, which it ain't.The captain went below not ten minutes before the noon-whistlesounded, an' he's likely there this minute."
Teddy gazed inquiringly at this new acquaintance for an instant, as ifsuspicious that the man might be making sport of him, and then marchedresolutely toward the end of the pier, with the half-eaten sandwichalmost forgotten in his hand.
After perhaps five minutes had passed, he returned, lookingdisappointed, but not disheartened, and seating himself by the side ofthe owner of the two dinner-pails, resumed operations upon thesandwich.
"See the captain?"
"Yep."
"Didn't want a boy, eh?"
"Guess not; he said he'd give me two minutes to get out of the cabin,an' I thought perhaps I'd better go."
"Quite natural, lad, quite natural; I'd done the same thing myself.There couldn't have been any very great harm worked, though, in askin'the question."
"It stirred him up considerable; but I guess he'll get over it withoutany very bad spell," Teddy said, grimly, and after a brief pause,added, reflectively, "It seems as though some men hated boys; I'veseen them as would take a good deal of trouble to kick a feller if hestood the least little bit in the way, an' I never could understandit."
"Perhaps there's more'n you in the same box; a brute's a brute whetherhe be old or young, an' age always makes 'em worse. It's a pity,though, that you didn't strike one of the right kind, because ifyou're set on gettin' down where the fightin' is goin' on, this 'eresteamer would have been the safest way."
"Do you know when she's likely to leave?" Teddy asked, after a longpause, during which he had been gazing intently at the gilt letters,_Merrimac_, on the vessel's rail.
"Some time to-night, I reckon. We've been workin' night an' day at theloadin', an' it's said that she'll leave the dock within an hourafter the last scoopful has been put aboard."
"How long will it take her to get there?"
"I can't say, lad, seein's I don't rightly know where she's bound; butit shouldn't be a long voyage at the worst, for such as her."
Again Teddy gazed at the gilt letters on the rail, as if in them hesaw something strange or wonderful, and when the owner of thedinner-pails had come to an end of his meal, the boy said, abruptly:
"Do you know the watchman here?"
"Watchman! I haven't seen any yet, though I reckon likely there is onearound somewhere; but he ain't agitatin' himself with doin' muchwatchin'."
"Is the yard open all the time?"
"I haven't seen the gates closed yet; but most likely that's becausethe work has been pushed on so fast, there hasn't been time to shut'em. Look here, lad!" and now the man sat bolt upright, staring asintently at the boy as the latter had at the gilt letters, "Is it inyour head to stow away on that steamer?"
"Sim Donovan did it aboard a English steamer, an' I've heard it saidhe had a great time."
"Yes, I reckon he did, if the captain was the usual sort," thedust-begrimed man replied, grimly.
"I could keep out of sight a whole week, if it was for the sake ofcomin' across dad," the boy added, half to himself.
"That's what you think now, lad; but it ain't the easy work you'recountin' on. As a general rule, stowaways get it mighty tough, an' I'dsooner take my chances of swimmin', than to try any such plan."
"If a feller kept under cover he couldn't get into much trouble."
"But you can't stay in hidin' any great length of time, lad. You'dhave to come out for food or water after a spell."
"Not if I took plenty with me," Teddy replied, in the tone of one whohas already arrived at a conclusion.
"It looks easy enough while you're outside; but once shut in betweendecks, or cooped up in some small hole, an' you'd sing a differenttune."
"I wouldn't if it was a case of seein' dad when we got there."
"But that's the trouble, my boy. You don't know where the steamer isbound. She might be runnin' straight away from him, an' then whatwould you do?"
"You said she was goin' to carry the coal to our vessels, didn't you?"
"Yes; but that don't mean she'll strike the very one your father isworkin' on."
"I'll take the chances," and now Teddy spoke very decidedly.
For an instant it was as if the owner of the two dinner-pails wouldattempt to dissuade him from the hastily formed determination, andthen the man checked himself suddenly.
"I like to see a boy show that he's got some backbone to him, an' itmay be you'll pull out all right. It'll be an experience you'll neverforget, though, an' perhaps it won't do any harm."
"How can it?" Teddy asked, sharply.
"Them as have tried it might be able to explain more'n I can; there'sno call for me to spend wind tryin' to tell what you won't listen to,so I'll hold my tongue. I'm bound to say this much, though, which isthat you're certain to catch it rough when the time comes for showin'yourself."
"That'll be all right; I can stand a good deal for the sake of seein'the old man once more."
Having said this, Teddy turned his head away as if no longer inclinedfor conversation, whereupon the owner of the two dinner-pails surveyedhim admiringly.
"I wouldn't wonder if you had considerable sand in you, Teddy Dunlap,"he said, musingly. "An' even though it seems a queer thing for a grownman to do, I'm minded to give you a lift along what's goin' to prove amighty hard road."
"Meanin' that you're willin' to help me?" the lad asked, his facebrightening wonderfully.
"It's little I can do, an' while I ought'er turn you over to thepolice in order to prevent your makin' a fool of yourself, I'll seethe game out so far as I can. What have you got by way of an outfit?"
"I don't need any."
"You must have food and water."
"I ain't broke, an' it won't be any great job to buy as much grub aswill keep me goin' for a spell."
"That's the same as all stowaways figger, an' the consequence is thatthey have to show themselves mighty soon after the ship sails. I ain'tadvisin' you to try the game; but if you're set on it, I says, says I,take all you'll need for a week, an' then perhaps there'll be a turnin affairs that'll help you out of a bad hole. Here are my pails;they're yours an' welcome. Fill 'em both with water, or perhaps coldtea would be best; buy whatever will be most fillin', an' walk aboardas bold as a lion within the next hour. Them as see you are bound tothink you're waitin' upon some of the workmen, an' not a word will besaid. The hidin' of yourself is easy enough; it's the comin' outthat'll be rough."
"Say, you're what I call a dandy!" a
nd Teddy laid his hand on theman's knee approvingly. "I was mighty lucky to come across one of yourkind."
"I ain't so certain about that. Before twenty-four hours have gone byyou may be wishin' you'd never seen me."
"I'll risk that part of it, an' if you really mean for me to have thepails, you'll see me go aboard the steamer mighty soon."
"They're yours, my boy, an' I only hope you'll come out of the scrapeall right."
"Don't worry 'bout that; it'll be a terrible spry captain that canmake me cry baby when I'm headin' toward where dad is. Be good toyourself!"
Teddy took up the pails, and as he turned to go out of the yard hisnew acquaintance asked, solicitously:
"Got money enough to buy what'll be needed? If you haven't there'ssome odd change about my clothes that--"
"I'm well fixed, an' that's a fact. Ever since the idea came to me ofhuntin' dad up, I've kept myself in shape to leave town on a hustle.You're mighty good, just the same."
"I'm makin' an old fool of myself, that's what I'm doin'," the manreplied, angrily, and then turned resolutely away, muttering tohimself, "It's little less than sheer cruelty to let a lad like himstow away on a collier. There ain't one chance in a thousand of hisfindin' the father he's after, an' the odds are in favour of hishavin' a precious hard time before gettin' back to this town."
Then a whistle sounded as a warning that the labourers must returnto their tasks, and a moment later the building was alive once morewith the hum and whir of machinery, the clanking of great chains, andthe voices of men.
One of the steamer's hatches was already on and battened down. Asecond was being fastened in place, and the final preparations beingmade told that the enormous hold had been nearly filled with the blackfuel needed by the war-ships.
Every man, whether a member of the vessel's crew, or one of thelabourers employed for the lading, was intent only on his ownbusiness, and among all that throng it is probable that but one gaveany heed to a small boy who came rapidly down through the yardcarrying two tin pails in his hands, and a large paper parcel underhis arm.
That single workman, who was giving heed to other than his own specialwork, nodded in the most friendly fashion as the lad passed near wherehe was standing, and whispered, gruffly:
"God love you, lad!"
The boy winked gravely, and then, setting his face seaward, marchedboldly up on the steamer's deck, glancing neither to the right nor theleft, lest it should be observed that he was not familiar with hissurroundings.
The man, who a few moments previous had been the possessor of twodinner-pails, watched carefully as the small lad walked rapidlyforward, and only when the latter was lost to view did he give heed tohis own work, saying half to himself as he took up the task once more:
"I've half a mind to blow on the boy even now, for it's a cruel shameto let him take the chances of stowin' away with but little hope ofever findin' his father."
As if in pursuance of this thought he took a step forward, and thenchecked himself, adding, thoughtfully:
"It would be more cruel to stop the little shaver just when hebelieves he's workin' his plan so smooth. Better let him go his owncourse, an' trust that them he comes across will remember the timewhen they were lads."