The Runaway | Page 5

it to be locked
up until the money was paid. Rodney expected to be able to get a
situation in some ship immediately, and to receive a part of his wages
in advance, with which he could redeem his clothing.

He slept on board the steamboat, and on Monday morning started in
search of a ship that would take him. He wandered along the wharves,
and at first was afraid to speak to any one, lest he should be questioned
and sent home. At last he made up his mind to ask a sailor, whom he
saw sauntering on the dock, if he knew where he could get a place on
board a ship.
The sailor looked at him a moment, turned his huge tobacco quid over
in his mouth, hitched up his trowsers, and said:
"Why, you young runaway, do you want to go to sea? What can such a
chap as you do on a ship? Go home, and stick by your mammy for five
years more, and then you'll have no trouble in shipping."
Rodney was a good deal frightened at such a reply, and walked on for
some time, not venturing to ask again. Toward noon he went on board a
large vessel, and seeing a man, whom he took for the captain of the
ship, asked him if he could give him a place.
"No, my boy," he replied; "we don't sail for three weeks, and we never
ship a crew before the time."
All day he wandered about the wharves, and to all his questions
received repelling replies, mingled oftentimes with oaths, jeers, and
insults. No one seemed to feel the least interest for him.
CHAPTER IV.
RODNEY FINDS A PATRON.
Late in the afternoon Rodney strolled up the East River wharves. He
was hungry, for he had eaten nothing all day. He was very sad, and sat
down on a cotton bale, and cried. In what a position had a single day
placed him! He had no place where he could lay his head for the night,
no bread to eat, and he knew nobody whom he dared to ask for a meal;
and so, with a sorrowful heart, he sat down and wept.
He buried his face in his hands, and for a long time sat there motionless.

He did not know that a man was standing before him, watching him,
until he was startled by a voice:
"Why, my boy, what is the matter with you?"
He looked up, and saw a tall man in a sailor's dress standing near him.
"I want to get a place on a ship, sir, to go to sea," replied Rodney; "I
can't find any place, and I have no money and no friends here."
The man sat down beside him, and asked him, "Where are your
friends?"
"In Albany, sir."
"What did you leave them for?"
"Because I wanted to go to sea."
They talked some time together, and Rodney told him truly all about
himself and his friends. The man seemed to pity him, and told him that
he was a sailor, and had lately been discharged from a United States
vessel, where he had served as a marine,--that he had spent almost all
his money, and was looking for another ship. He told Rodney to go
with him, and he would try what could be done for him. They went into
a sailors' boarding-house, and got something to eat.
Then the man,--who said his name was Bill Seegor, and that he must
call him Bill, and not Mister, nor sir,--took him with himself into a
ball-room. Here he saw a great many sailors and bad women, who
danced together, and laughed, and shouted, and cursed, and drank, until
long past midnight. Rodney had never witnessed such a scene. He had
never heard such filthy and blasphemous language, nor seen such
indecent behavior.
"Come, my lad," said a bluff sailor to him; "if you mean to be a man,
you must learn to toss off your glass. Your white face don't look as if
you ever tasted anything stronger than tea. Here is a glass of

grog,--down with it!"
And Rodney, who wanted to be a man, drank it with a swaggering air,
though it scorched his throat; and then another, until he became very
sick;--and the last he remembered was, that the sailors and the women
all seemed to be swearing and fighting together.
The next morning he was awaked by Bill Seegor, and found himself in
a garret, on a miserable bed, with all his clothes on. How he had ever
got there he could not tell. His head ached, and his limbs were stiff and
pained him when he moved. His throat was parched and burning, and
he felt so wretchedly, that, if