Books: Richard Dare\'s Venture
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Edward Stratemeyer >> Richard Dare\'s Venture
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For though Richard had taken the whole affair rather coolly he now
found that it had been more the excitement than aught else that had
kept him up, and he was beginning to feel the full force of a most
uncomfortable shaking up.
But this feeling, bordering upon nervous prostration, was not confined
to the boy alone. Every one of the passengers, most of whom had escaped
without a scratch, were decidedly ill at ease.
It was not long ere Richard thought to take a look through the train
for Mr. Joyce.
"He may have got aboard without my seeing him," he said to himself.
And leaving his baggage piled up in the seat, he made the tour from
one end to the other and back.
He was unsuccessful. It was as if the leather merchant had disappeared
for good.
"Hope he turns up," thought the boy. "If he doesn't what am I to do
with his baggage? I don't know where he lives and--Hold up."
He suddenly thought of Mr. Joyce's card, which that gentleman had given
him, but a hasty and then a thorough search convinced him that the bit
of pasteboard was no longer in his possession.
"Must have slipped out of my pocket in the smash-up," he thought.
"Well, I'll have to make the best of it, only I don't want to carry
off another person's property."
Richard did not know enough to leave the valise with the baggage master
or some of the other railroad officials. This was his first journey
of importance, and everything was new and strange to him. The next
station was quite a distance, and after thinking the matter over the
boy concluded to let the matter rest until they reached that point.
He still retained the guide-book the merchant had loaned him, and
presently he took it out and began to study it more carefully than
ever.
"Father used to live up in that neighborhood," he said to himself, as
certain familiar names of streets arose in his mind. "Sometime, after
I'm settled, I'll visit that district and learn if there are still any
people there who knew him. Who knows but what I might run across some
one who knew him during the war, and could witness his application?"
The idea was a rather pleasant one, and gave the boy a wide field for
meditation and hope. He determined not only to take a "run up," as he
had said, but also, when the opportunity offered, to make a thorough
canvass of the locality and get every bit of information obtainable.
"Ahoy, there! Mr. Dare. On board, too, eh?" exclaimed a voice, and
looking up Richard saw Doc Linyard's beaming face.
"Sit down," returned the boy.
The seat in front was vacant, and in a trice the old sailor had it
turned over and himself ensconced in the soft cushions, opposite
Richard.
"Might I ask where you're bound?" asked Doc Linyard, after another
long string of thanks for the services that had been rendered.
"I can't say any more than that I'm going to New York. I'm looking for
work, and I don't know where I'll settle. Perhaps I'll strike nothing
and have to go back home."
"What! A strong, healthy young fellow like you? Nonsense! Not if you
care to lend a willing hand."
"Oh, I'm anxious enough to do that."
"Then you'll pull through. Them as is anxious and willing always do.
I didn't have much to start on when I settled in the city. Only six
months' pay at sixteen dollars a month."
"How came you to leave the sea?" asked the boy, with considerable
curiosity, for Doc Linyard was the first regular sailor he had ever
known.
"Oh, you see I was wrecked a couple of times, and lost one leg; this,"
he tapped his left knee, "is only a cork one, you know, and then the
wife grew afeared, and said as how she wanted me ashore. But a tar
used to the rigging and sech don't take kindly to labor on land, so
instead of working for other people, I up and started the Watch Below."
"What is it--a boarding-house?"
"Not exactly, though we do occasionally take a fellow in. It's a
temperance lunch-room for sailors, with regular first-class ship grub;
lobscouse, plum-duff and sech. Most of the fellows know me, and hardly
a soul comes ashore but what drops in afore he leaves port."
"It must pay."
"I don't get fancy prices and only make a living. I'd like to ask you
down, only maybe it wouldn't be fine enough."
Doc Linyard had noticed Richard's neat appearance, and saw that the
boy was accustomed to having everything "nice."
"Oh, I should like to come very much," replied Richard, "that is if
I get the chance."
On and on rolled the train, and finally the town for which it was bound
was reached, and the passengers alighted and crowded the station.
It was announced that owing to the disaster no train would leave for
New York for two hours. This left a long time on Richard's hands, and
he hardly knew what to do.
Immediately on the arrival Doc Linyard had gone off to hunt up a friend
he fancied lived in the place. Not far from the station was a little
park containing a number of benches, and walking over to it Richard
sat down.
The lunch his mother had given him came in handy now, and he did full
justice to it.
He wished the old sailor was with him to share the repast. He had taken
a fancy to the tar, and loved to listen to his hearty voice and open
speech.
After the lunch was disposed of, Richard took a short stroll through
the town. He did not go far, for he had the two valises with him, and
they were heavy.
Presently he returned to the station, and it was not long before the
train could be seen approaching in the distance. Along with a number
of others, Richard started to walk over to the right track.
As he did so two men, who looked like railroad officials, approached
him.
"Say, young fellow," sang out one of the men. "Hold up; we want to
speak to you."
"What is it?" asked Richard.
"Whose baggage have you got there?"
"My own and another man's."
"What man?" asked the other official.
"A gentleman I met on the train."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. I'm trying to find him."
By this time the train had rolled into the station. Not wishing to
miss it, Richard began to move on.
Both officials made a dive for him, and one of them caught him by the
shoulder.
"Not so fast, my fine fellow?" he exclaimed.
"Why, what--what do you want?" asked Richard, with a rising color.
"We want you to give an account of yourself," was the reply. "Where
did you get that valise?"
CHAPTER VII.
THE END OF THE JOURNEY.
Despite the knowledge that he was doing no wrong, Richard's heart sank
when he heard the railroad official call him back.
He did not think how easy it might be to prove himself innocent of all
wrong-doing. It was bad enough to be suspected. Besides, he had not
been the only one to hear the harsh words that had been spoken, and
in a moment a crowd had collected.
"I was in the wreck, and this valise belongs to a friend of mine,"
replied Richard, as soon as he could collect his thoughts.
"What is your name?" asked the official who still held him by the arm.
Richard told him.
"And who was your friend?"
"His name is--is--"
And here, being greatly confused, Richard could not remember the leather
merchant's name.
"Come, answer me," continued the man sharply.
"His name is--is--I've forgotten it!" stammered the boy in confusion.
"Humph! A very plausible excuse I _must_ say," sneered the man.
"It's the truth. I met the gentleman on the train. He introduced
himself, and we had quite a chat. Then he asked me to look after his
baggage while he went into the smoking-car, and while he was gone the
accident happened."
"Where is the man now?" asked the first official.
"I don't know. I've been trying to find him."
"Do you expect me to believe that?" exclaimed the other. "There isn't
a soul missing from that wreck!"
"I can't help it," replied Richard stoutly, for he was recovering from
the shock he had received. "What I'm telling you is a fact."
"What's the matter here?" broke in a hearty voice; and Doc Linyard
elbowed his way through the crowd. "What's wrong with the young
gentleman?"
"What business is that of yours?" returned the man sharply.
"Not much may be, but if there's trouble for him I want to know it.
He saved my life down in the smash-up, and I intend to stand by him,"
returned the old tar decidedly.
"They think I'm trying to steal this valise," explained Richard.
"_What!_" roared Doc Linyard. "Confound you for a pair of landlubbers!
Don't you know an honest figurehead when you see it? Look at him! 'Pears
to me he looks more straightforward than those as accuses him."
Both officials were taken back by the tar's aggressive manner.
"Better be careful," continued the sailor. "You don't know who this
young gentleman is, and before long you'll be laying up a heap of
trouble for yourselves."
"We have to be on our guard," said the first official in a milder tone.
"The young man will have to leave the valise here, at least," added
the other.
"I'm willing to do that," said Richard. "But I'm no thief," he continued
as they walked over to the baggage-room.
"Yes, but that man's name--" began one of the men.
"Was Joyce--Timothy Joyce!" cried the boy. "I knew I would remember
it sooner or later."
The official took a piece of chalk and scratched the name upon the
bottom of the valise.
"That one is yours?"
"Yes; here is my name on the bottom," and Richard showed it.
"All right. You can go. If Mr. Joyce calls he can get his property,
otherwise it will be forwarded to the main baggage office in New York."
"Hold up! Not so fast," put in Doc Linyard. "Just give him a receipt
for that valise."
"Oh, that's all right," replied the man, turning red.
"Maybe so. But I don't see as how he ought to trust you any more than
you trusted him," went on the tar bluntly.
"That's fair," put in an old man, who had stood watching the
proceedings. "'What's sauce for the goose is the sauce for the gander.'"
With very bad grace the official wrote down something on a pad, tore
the page off and thrust it at Richard.
"I hope you're satisfied," he snapped to Doc Linyard; and taking up
Mr. Joyce's valise he entered an inner room, slamming the door behind
him.
"Good riddance to him," muttered the old tar. "A few brass buttons on
his coat has turned his head."
The train had fortunately been delayed, but it was now moving from the
station. Richard and Doc Linyard made a rush for it, and succeeded in
boarding the last car.
"Hope we're done with adventures," remarked the old tar, when they
were seated. "I'd rather have things quiet and easy."
"I must thank you," said Richard heartily. "I don't know what I would
have done if you hadn't come up just when you did."
"Shoo--'tain't nothing, Mr. Dare, alongside of what you did for me,"
replied the sailor. "But I've had a run of bad luck since I left New
York two days ago," he added meditatively.
"Yes?" questioned the boy with some curiosity. "How so?"
"Well, it's this way," began Doc Linyard, crossing his good leg over
the cork one: "My wife got a letter from England last week, saying as
how an uncle had died, leaving his property to her and her brother,
Tom Clover. In the letter she was asked to see her brother and fix the
matter up with him. They wrote they didn't have his address, and so
left it to her."
"I should think that would be all right," remarked Richard, as the old
tar paused.
"It would be, only for one thing--we don't know where Tom is. He used
to live in New York, but moved away, we don't know where. A party told
me he thought he had got work in a place called Fairwood, but I've
just come from there."
"And you didn't find him?"
"No; he had never been in the place. I have an idea he is again
somewhere in New York."
"Didn't he used to call on you?"
"Sometimes; but he was a bit queer, and there was times he didn't show
up for months and months. He's pretty old, and couldn't get around
very well."
"Is the property valuable?"
"It's worth over eight hundred pounds--four thousand dollars."
"It's a fortune!" exclaimed Richard.
"'Twould be to Betty and me," returned the sailor. "We never had over
a hundred dollars in cash in our lives."
"It's a pity you can't find him," said the boy. "What are you going
to do? Get your wife's share, and let the other rest?"
"No; that's the worst of it. By the provisions of the will the property
can't be divided very well except by the consent of both heirs."
"In that case I think I'd commence a pretty good search for Mr.--your
wife's brother. It's worth spending quite a few dollars to find him."
"Just my reckoning. But New York is a big place to find any one in."
"Perhaps your brother-in-law will drop in on you when you least expect
him."
"Hope he does."
The two continued the conversation for a long time. The more Richard
saw of Doc Linyard, the better he liked the bluff old tar, and, to
tell the truth, the latter was fully as much taken by Richard's open
manner.
It was not long before Richard poured out his own tale in all its
details. He found a strong sympathizer in the sailor, who expressed
a sincere wish that the pension due the Dare family might be speedily
forthcoming.
"Somewhat of a like claim to mine," he remarked. "We are both looking
for other people to help us out."
"And I trust we both succeed," added Richard earnestly. "In fact we
_must_ succeed," he continued, with sudden energy.
"Right you are!" was the reply. "We're bound to get the proper bearings
some time."
Before they reached their journey's end they were fast friends.
"Jersey City!"
It was the brakeman's cry, and an instant later the train rolled into
the vast and gloomy depot, and every one was scrambling up and making
for the door.
In a moment they were upon the platform, amid a surging, pushing mass
of people.
"Which way?" asked Richard, somewhat confused by the unusual bustle.
"This way," replied the sailor. "Just follow me."
"West Shore this side! Checks for baggage! Brooklyn Annex to the right!"
and several similar calls filled the boy's ears.
He kept close to the tar, who led the way to the slip where a Cortlandt
Street boat was in waiting, and, dodging several trucks and express
wagons, they hurried down the bridge and went on board.
The gentlemen's cabin was so full of tobacco smoke that it nearly
stifled Richard, and he was not sorry when Doc Linyard led the way
straight through to the forward deck.
It was a pleasant day, and the lowering sun cast long shadows over the
water, and lit up the spires and stone piles of the great metropolis
that lay beyond, tipped with gold, typical of Richard's high hopes.
Swiftly the ferryboat crossed the North River, crowded with boats.
Then it ran into the slip--there was the rattle of the ratchets as the
line wheels spun around, and finally the gates were opened.
Richard had reached New York at last.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE "WATCH BELOW."
"Gracious, what a busy place!"
This was the thought that ran through Richard's mind as he stepped
from the ferryhouse to West Street, in New York City.
Doc Linyard had managed to get the boy off the boat as soon as the
landing was made, but now, as they waited for a chance to cross the
slippery thoroughfare that runs parallel to the water's edge, the crowd
surged around them until to Richard there seemed to be a perfect jam.
"Hack, sir? Astor House? Coupe, madam? This way for a cab!"
In a moment they were safe upon the other side of the street.
"Made up your mind which way to steer?" asked Doc Linyard.
"Not exactly," replied Richard. "This is the way to Broadway, I
suppose," he went on, pointing up Cortlandt Street.
"Yes; but what do you intend to do up there?"
"I thought I'd take a look around. I imagine I can't do much in the
way of finding work at this time in the evening."
"No; you'd best wait till morning. Then get a _World_ and a _Herald_,
and look over the want advertisements. I reckon that's the best way of
striking a position."
"Thank you, I'll try that plan. Good-by." And Richard held out his
hand.
"Won't you come down to my place afore we part?" interposed Doc Linyard.
"It's only a few steps from here."
Richard demurred. From the description he had been given of the place
he knew money was to be spent there, and he had no cash to spare.
"I--I--guess not," he faltered.
"Why not?"
"I--well, to tell the truth, I haven't much to spend."
The old tar slapped the boy heartily on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about that!" he cried. "I'm no land-shark. This trip
shan't cost you a cent. Come on."
And Richard followed. To a new-comer West Street is certainly a curious
sight. Saloons predominate, but between them are located tiny eating
houses, cheap clothing shops, meat stalls, bargain "counters," and
lodging-places, only about one in ten of the latter being fit for
occupancy.
"Here we are!" exclaimed the sailor presently.
They stepped up to a small restaurant, considerably neater than its
neighbors. Its exterior was painted light blue, and over the door in
big, black letters, hung the sign:
THE WATCH BELOW, DOC LINYARD, _Boatswain_.
And to the right of the door, near a figurehead representing a gorgeous
mermaid, were added the words:
_Messmates Always Welcome_.
The doors were wide open, and the two entered.
Several men sat at various tables, eating and drinking, and behind a
counter that did the double duty of a pie-stand and a cashier's desk
sat a tall, old man with grizzled white hair.
"Well, pop!" exclaimed Doc Linyard, as he stepped up.
"Hello, my boy! Back again," returned the older man. "Did you find
'em?" he added, in an anxious tone.
"No."
The old man shook his head ominously.
"Too bad, too bad," he murmured.
But he was evidently too old to take a very strong interest in the
matter.
"Never mind, it will all come outright in the end," was the son's
reassuring reply. "Where is Betty?"
"In the kitchen."
"This is my father," went on Doc Linyard to Richard. "Pop, here is a
chum as I picked up on the road. His name is Mr. Dare, and he saved
my life."
"Saved your life?" queried the old man doubtfully.
As he spoke a door in the rear opened, and a buxom woman of thirty
tripped out. She came straight up to the sailor and gave him a hearty
kiss.
"No luck, Betty," said Linyard soberly.
"No?"
"Not a bit. Couldn't locate 'em nohow."
"It's too bad, Doc."
"And he says his life was saved by this chap," put in the old man, who
had been gazing at Richard ever since the assertion had been made.
"Yes; we've both had strange adventures in the last twelve hours."
This bold praise made Richard blush.
"Oh, I didn't do as much as all that," he exclaimed. "I only helped
him out of the car, just as I would have helped any one."
"No sech thing, he did lots."
And sitting down near the counter, Doc Linyard gave a graphic account
of all that had transpired.
"I thank you very much," said Mrs. Linyard, when her husband had
finished. "I know Doc won't forget what you did, and neither will I."
She gave the boy's hand a tight squeeze. "Won't you have some supper
with us?"
Richard hesitated. He always was backward in accepting favors.
"Come don't say no," urged Doc Linyard. "By the anchor, it's little
enough."
Mrs. Linyard led the way to a cozy nook near the end of the restaurant,
and gave them two seats at a small table covered with a snowy white
cloth,--a table that was generally reserved for officers, or "upper
class" patrons.
"So you've had no luck?" she said to her husband, as she began to
bustle around with the tableware. "It's queer. What can have become
of Tom?"
"Blessed if I know."
"We may lose that money, all through him," sighed Mrs. Linyard.
"It would be a shame," put in Richard. "Your husband has told me of
the matter. I wish I could help you."
The sailor laughed good-naturedly. His disposition was too easy to
worry much over the situation.
"Reckon as how you'll have your hands full on your own account, finding
work and all that," he returned.
"I suppose I will. Still I would like to help you."
Mrs. Linyard provided a warm and bountiful supper, and both enjoyed
every dish that was set before them.
"I mustn't lose too much time," went on the boy, as he was finishing.
"I must at least find a boarding-house. I don't want to spend the night
in the streets."
"No fear of that," said the old tar hastily. "Betty, another cup of
that good coffee, please. Tell you what I'll do if you're willing.
This place isn't as grand as a hotel, but Betty's beds are as clean
as any of 'em, and if you will you're welcome to stay all night."
"Thank you, I'll do so gladly," replied Richard quickly, for the
proposition took a load from his mind. "I'll pay you whatever--"
"Avast there! What do you think I am, to take money from you for that?
No, thanky, I'm no land shark."
"I know you're not," replied Richard quickly, for he saw that the
sailor's feelings had been hurt, "but I would like to do something in
return."
"No need of that. Tell you what you can do though," continued Doc
Linyard, after a moment's reflection.
"Well?"
"Write me out an advertisement for the newspapers. My eddication ain't
none of the best, and my hand's more used to a marline spike than it
is to a pen."
"Willingly. What do you want to advertise?"
"I want to put a notice in for my brother-in-law. I'll give you all
the particulars."
"Very well. Have you pen, ink and paper?"
"Yes; Betty, will you bring 'em?"
Mrs. Linyard nodded.
A few minutes later the dishes were cleared away, and Richard prepared
to write out the advertisement.
CHAPTER IX.
LOCKED OUT.
During Richard's and Doc Linyard's meal the Watch Below had been
gradually filling up, principally with sailors, the majority of whom
were short, heavy-set men, who clapped each other on the back and
carried on their conversation in a sea lingo that was nearly
unintelligible to Richard.
One thing, however, impressed the boy. All the patrons seemed of a
better class than most sailors are, and he was glad to notice that
drunkenness and profanity were entirely absent. Once in a while some
one would let fall some coarse remark, but he was quickly choked off
by the others out of respect for "Doc's Betty," who hurried around
with a shining face, waiting on one and exchanging a pleasant word
with another.
Every one was on familar terms with the proprietor. They were glad to
see him back to the "fo'castle," but those who knew were sorry his
mission had been unsuccessful.
"They all know me and wishes me well," remarked the sailor to Richard.
"It's something to be proud of--around on this here globe forty-five
years and not an enemy in the world."
"How long were you a sailor?"
"Almost thirty years. I shipped as cabin boy on a South America brig
when I was fifteen. I'd be at it yet if, as I told you, Betty hadn't
anchored me ashore."
"It's long time. Some time I'd like to hear of some of the places you
visited. But I'd better get at that advertisement."
"No hurry--the newspaper office is only a few blocks from here."
"But you want this advertisement to go in tomorrow, don't you?"
"They take 'em up to ten o'clock, and maybe later."
Presently the crowd began to thin out, and by nine o'clock only half-a-
dozen customers remained. Mrs. Linyard and the old man waited upon
these, and Doc Linyard drew up to the table and motioned Richard to
go ahead.
"Here is the paper I'm going to put the notice in," he said. "Guess
you better follow the style of the other advertisements."
"I will," replied Richard. "What is your brother-in-law's full name?"
"Thomas Clover. He has no middle name."
"And his address?"
"He came from Brighton, England, and lived here, in a number of places
on the east side."
"The east side?"
"Yes; he lived somewhere on Cherry Hill last."
"And what is your wife's name?"
"Only Betty. That stands for Elizabeth, I suppose, but she was never
anything else to me or anybody else."
"Better let it go at that, then," returned Richard. "Now what is the
name of the estate to be divided?"
The old sailor told him.
"And say we want to hear from them at once," he added.
Richard went to work earnestly. Several attempts to get the
advertisement into proper shape were failures. Finally he produced the
following:
INFORMATION WANTED IMMEDIATELY of THOMAS CLOVER or his heirs, formerly
of Brighton, England, but when last heard of lived in Cherry Street,
this city. He is an heir of the PELEG SABINE estate which awaits
settlement. Address DOC LINYARD, THE WATCH BELOW, West Street, New
York.
"How will that do?" asked the boy.
"First-rate?" cried Linyard. "Only don't put my address on it. I want
the answer to come through a box in the newspaper office. I don't want
to be bothered by lawyers and detectives looking for a job on the
case."
"I see," said Richard, and crossing out the address he substituted the
words:
"Doc, box ---, this office."
"Guess I'll take a walk over to the newspaper office at once," said
the old tar, when the boy had finished. "Reckon as how pop and the
mistress can get along for a while. I suppose you'd like to come along."
"Indeed I would. I'd like to see as much of the city as I can before
I get to work."
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