Adrift in New York — Chapters Nineteen and Twenty
Dodger drew back, and Curtis opened the door and went out, bolting it after him.
Chapter XIX.
An Attempt To Escape.
While Dodger had no discomfort to complain of, it occurred to him that Florence would be alarmed by his long absence, for now it seemed certain that he would have to remain overnight.
If only he could escape he would take care not to fall into such a trap again.
He went to the window and looked out, but the distance to the ground was so great--for the room was on the third floor--that he did not dare to imperil his life by attempting a descent.
If there had been a rope at hand he would not have felt afraid to make the attempt.
He examined the bed to see if it rested upon cords, but there were slats instead.
As has already been said, there were no houses near by.
That part of the city had not been much settled, and it was as solitary as it is in the outskirts of a country village.
If he could only reveal his position to some person outside, so as to insure interference, he might yet obtain his freedom.
With this thought he tore a blank leaf from one of the books in the room, and hastily penciled the following lines: "I am kept a prisoner in this house.
I was induced to come here by a trick.
Please get some one to join you, and come and demand my release."
Some weeks before Dodger could not have written so creditable a note, but he had greatly improved since he had been under the influence and instruction of Florence.
Dodger now posted himself at the window and waited anxiously for some one to pass, so that he might attract his attention and throw down the paper.
He had to wait for fifteen minutes.
Then he saw approaching a young man, not far from twenty-one, who looked like a young mechanic, returning from his daily work.
Now was Dodger's opportunity.
He put his head out of the window and called out: "Hello, there!"
The young man looked and saw him at the window.
"What do you want?"
he asked.
"Catch this paper, and read what there is on it."
He threw down the leaf, which, after fluttering in the gentle evening breeze, found its way to the ground and was picked up.
After reading it, the young man looked up and said: "I'll go around to the door and inquire."
He was as good as his word.
He went to the outer door and rang the bell.
Julius came to the door.
"What's wanted, boss?"
he said.
"You've got a boy locked up in a room."
"Who told you, boss?"
"He threw down a paper to me, telling me he was kept a prisoner."
"What did he say?"
asked Julius.
The young man read the note aloud.
"What have to say to that, you black imp?"
he demanded, sternly.
The ready wit of Julius served him in this emergency.
"Dat boy is crazy as a loon, boss!"
he answered, readily.
"We have to keep him shut up for fear he'll kill some of us."
"You don't say!"
ejaculated the young mechanic.
"He don't look like it."
"No, he don't; dat's a fact, boss.
Fact is, dat boy is the artfullest lunytick you ever seed.
He tried to kill his mother last week."
"Is that true?"
"Dat's so, boss.
And all de while he looks as innocent as a baby.
If I was to let him out he'd kill somebody, sure."
"I never would have believed it," said the young man.
"If you want to take the risk, boss, you might go up and see him.
I
believe he's got a carvin'-knife about him, but I don't dare to go up and get it away.
It would be as much as this niggah's life is worth."
"No," answered the young man, hastily.
"I don't want to see him.
I
never did like crazy folks.
I'm sorry I gave you the trouble to come to the door."
"Oh, no trouble, boss."
"I guess I've fixed dat boy!"
chuckled Julius.
"Ho, ho!
he can't get ahead of old Julius!
Crazy as a loon, ho, ho!"
Dodger waited anxiously for the young man to get through his interview.
He hoped that he would force his way up to the third floor, draw the bolt, and release him from his imprisonment.
He kept watch at the window, and when the young man reappeared, he looked at him eagerly.
"Did you ask them to let me out?"
he shouted.
The other looked up at him with an odd expression of suspicion and repulsion.
"You're better off where you are," he said, rather impatiently.
"But they have locked me up here."
"And reason enough, too!"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you're crazy as a loon."
"Did the black man say that?"
inquired Dodger, indignantly.
"Yes, he did--said you tried to kill your mother, and had a carving-knife hidden in the room."
"It's a lie--an outrageous lie!"
exclaimed Dodger, his eyes flashing.
"Don't go into one of your tantrums," said the man, rather alarmed;
"it won't do any good."
"But I want you to understand that I am no more crazy than you are."
"Sho?
I know better.
Where's your carving-knife?"
"I haven't got any; I never had any.
That negro has been telling you lies.
Just go to the door again, and insist on seeing me."
"I wouldn't dast to.
You'd stab me," said the man, fearfully.
"Listen to me!"
said Dodger, getting out of patience.
"I'm not crazy.
I'm a newsboy and baggage-smasher.
An old man got me to bring his valise here, and then locked me up.
Won't you go around to the station-house and send a policeman here?"
"I'll see about it," said the young man, who did not believe a word that Dodger had said to him.
"He won't do it!"
said Dodger to himself, in a tone of discouragement.
"That miserable nigger has made him believe I am a lunatic.
I'll have him up, anyway."
Forthwith he began to pound and kick so forcibly, that Julius came upstairs on a run, half inclined to believe that Dodger had really become insane.
"What do you want, boy?"
he inquired from outside the door.
"I want you to unbolt the door and let me out."
"I couldn't do it, nohow," said Julius.
"It would be as much as my place is worth."
"I will give you a dollar--five dollars--if you will only let me out.
The man who brought me here is a bad man, who is trying to cheat his cousin--a young lady--out of a fortune."
"Don't know nothin' 'bout that," said Julius.
"He has no right to keep me here."
"Don't know nothin' 'bout that, either.
I'm actin' accordin' to orders."
"Look here," said Dodger, bethinking himself of what had just happened.
"Did you tell that young man who called here just now that I was crazy?"
Julius burst into a loud guffaw.
"I expect I did," he laughed.
"Said you'd got a long carvin'-knife hid in de room."
"What made you lie so?"
demanded Dodger, sternly.
"Couldn't get rid of him no other way.
Oh, how scared he looked when I told him you tried to kill your mother."
And the negro burst into another hearty laugh which exasperated Dodger exceedingly.
"How long is Mr. Waring going to keep me here?
Did he tell you?"
Dodger asked, after a pause.
"No; he didn't say."
"When is he coming here again?"
"Said he'd come to-morrow most likely."
"Will you bring me a light?"
"Couldn't do it.
You'd set the house on fire."
It seemed useless to prolong the conversation.
Dodger threw himself on the bed at an early hour, but he did not undress, thinking there might possibly be a chance to escape during the night.
But the morning came and found him still a prisoner, but not in the solitary dwelling.
Chapter XX.
A Midnight Ride.
Curtis Waring had entrapped Dodger for a double purpose.
It was not merely that he thought it possible the boy had the will, or knew where it was.
He had begun to think of the boy's presence in New York as dangerous to his plans.
John Linden might at any time learn that the son, for whose appearance he had grieved so bitterly, was still living in the person of this street boy.
Then there would be an end of his hopes of inheriting the estate.
Only a few months more and the danger would be over, for he felt convinced that his uncle's tenure of life would be brief.
The one essential thing, then, seemed to be to get Dodger out of the city.
The first step had already been taken; what the next was will soon appear.
Scarcely had Dodger failed in his attempt to obtain outside assistance when an unaccountable drowsiness overcame him, considerably to his surprise.
"I don't know what's come to me," he said to himself.
"It can't be more than seven or eight o'clock, and yet I feel so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open.
I haven't worked any harder than usual to-day, and I can't understand it."
Dodger had reason to be surprised, for he didn't usually retire till eleven o'clock.
In a city like New York, where many of the streets are tolerably well filled even at midnight, people get in the way of sitting up much later than in the country, and Dodger was no exception to this rule.
Yet here he was ready to drop off to sleep before eight o'clock.
To him it was a mystery, for he did not know that the cup of tea which he had drunk at supper had been drugged by direction of Curtis Waring, with an ulterior purpose, which will soon appear.
"I may as well lie down, as there is nothing else to do," thought Dodger.
"There isn't much fun sitting in the dark.
If I can sleep, so much the better."
Five minutes had scarcely passed after his head struck the pillow, when our hero was fast asleep.
At eleven o'clock a hack stopped in front of the house, and Curtis Waring descended from it.
"Stay here," he said to the driver.
"There will be another passenger.
If you are detained I will make it right when I come to pay you."
"All right, sir," said the hackman.
"I don't care how long it is if I am paid for my time."
Curtis opened the door with a pass-key, and found Julius dozing in a chair in the hall.
"Wake up, you sleepy-head," he said.
"Has anything happened since I left here?"
"Yes, sir; the boy tried to get away."
"Did he?
I don't see how he could do that.
You kept the door bolted, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir; but he throwed a piece of paper out'n de window, sayin' he was kep' a prisoner here.
A young man picked it up, and came to de house to ax about it."
Curtis looked alarmed.
"What did you say?"
he inquired, apprehensively.
"Told him de boy was crazy as a loon--dat he tried to kill his mother las' week, and had a carvin'-knife hid in his room."
"Good, Julius!
I didn't give you credit for such a fertile imagination.
"What's dat, massa?"
asked Julius, looking puzzled.
"I didn't know you were such a skillful liar."
"Yah!
yah!"
laughed Julius, quite comprehending this compliment.
"I reckon I can twis' de trufe pretty well, Massa Curtis!"
"You have done well, Julius," said Curtis, approvingly.
"Here's a dollar!"
The negro was quite effusive in his gratitude.
"What did the young man say?"
"He looked scared.
I tol' him he could go up and see de boy if he wasn't afeared of the carvin'-knife, but he said he guessed he wouldn't--he didn't like crazy folks."
Curtis laughed heartily.
"So it all ended as it should.
Did the boy make any more trouble?"
"Yes; he pounded and kicked till I had to go up and see what was the matter.
I didn't give him no satisfaction, and I guess he went to bed."
"He ought to be in a deep sleep by this time.
I will go up and see.
Go up with me, Julius, for I may have to ask you to help me bring him down."
Though Julius was naturally a coward, he felt quite brave when he had company, and he at once went upstairs with Curtis Waring.
Curtis drew the bolt, and, entering the chamber, his glance fell upon Dodger, fast asleep on the bed.
"I am glad the boy did not undress," he said.
"It will save me a great deal of trouble.
Now, Julius, you can take his feet and I will lift his head, and we will take him downstairs."
"S'pos'n he wakes up, Massa Curtis?"
"He won't wake up.
I took care the sleeping potion should be strong enough to produce profound slumber for eighteen hours."
"Seems as if he was dead," said Julius, nervously.
"Tush, you fool!
He's no more dead than you or I." The hackman looked curious when the two men appeared with their sleeping burden, and Curtis felt that some explanation was required.
"The boy has a very painful disease," he said, "and the doctor gave him a sleeping draught.
He is going abroad for his health, and, under the circumstances, I think it best not to wake him up.
Drive slowly and carefully to Pier No. --, as I don't want the boy aroused if it can be helped."
"All right, sir."
"Julius, you may lock the door and come with me.
I shall need your help to get him on board the ship."
"All right, Massa Curtis."
"And, mind you, don't go to sleep in the carriage, you black rascal!"
added Curtis, as he saw that the negro found it hard to keep his eyes open.
"All right, massa, I'll keep awake.
How am I to get home?"
"I will instruct the hackman to take you home."
"Yah, yah; I'll be ridin' like a gentleman!"
The journey was successfully accomplished, but it took an hour, for, according to directions, the hackman did not force his pace, but drove slowly, till he reached the North River pier indicated.
At the pier was a large, stanch vessel--the _Columbia_--bound for San Francisco, around Cape Horn.
All was dark, but the second officer was pacing the deck.
Curtis Waring hailed him.
"What time do you get off?"
"Early to-morrow morning."
"So the captain told me.
I have brought you a passenger."
"The captain told me about him."
"Is his stateroom ready?"
"Yes, sir.
You are rather late."
"True; and the boy is asleep, as you will see.
He is going to make the voyage for his health, and, as he has been suffering some pain, I thought I would not wake him up.
Who will direct me to his stateroom?"
The mate summoned the steward, and Dodger, still unconscious, was brought on board and quietly transferred to the bunk that had been prepared for him.
It was a critical moment for poor Dodger, but he was quite unconscious of it.
"What is the boy's name?"
asked the mate.
"Arthur Grant.
The captain has it on his list.
Is he on board?"
"Yes; but he is asleep."
"I do not need to see him.
I have transacted all necessary business with him--and paid the passage money.
Julius, bring the valise."
Julius did so.
"This contains the boy's clothing.
Take it to the stateroom, Julius."
"All right, Massa Curtis."
"What is your usual time between New York and San Francisco?"
asked Curtis, addressing the mate.
"From four to six months.
Four months is very short, six months very long.
We ought to get there in five months, or perhaps a little sooner, with average weather."
"Very well.
I believe there is no more to be said.
Good-night!"
"Good-night, sir."
"So he is well out of the way for five months!"
soliloquized Curtis.
"In five months much may happen.
Before that time I hope to be in possession of my uncle's property.
Then I can snap my fingers at fate."
Chapter XXI.
A Seasick Passenger.
