The Runaway | Page 8

woe and death.
CHAPTER VI.
THE PUNISHMENT BEGINS.
Bill Seegor found the woman he sought, and soon they returned to her house. Here the bottle was brought out and passed round; and, after much blasphemous and ribaldrous conversation, a straw bed was made up on the floor, and Rodney laid down. Before he went to sleep, he heard Bill tell the woman that he was entirely out of money, and beg her to lend him five dollars for a few days. After some hesitation she consented, and drew out from under the bed an old trunk, which she unlocked, and from which she took five dollars in silver and gave it to him. Bill, looking over her shoulder, saw that she took it from a little pile of silver that lay in the corner of the trunk.
For a long time Rodney could not sleep. The scenes of the last eventful week were vividly recalled to his mind, and, in spite of his fatigue, kept him awake. He tried to make himself believe that it was a glorious life he had begun to lead,--that now he was free from restraint, and entering upon the flowery paths of independence and enjoyment. Though he had met with some difficulties at the start, he thought that they were now nearly passed, and that soon he should be upon the blue water, and in foreign countries, a happy sailor boy.
But conscience would interpose its reproaches and warnings, and remind him of the horrible company into which he had been cast,--of the scenes of sin which he had witnessed, and in which he had participated; and he could not but shudder when he thought of the probable termination of such a life.
But he felt that, having forsaken his home,--and he was not even yet sorry that he had done so,--he was now in the current, and that there was no way of reaching the shore, even had he been disposed to try; and that he must continue to float along the stream, leaving his destination to be determined by circumstances.
It is very easy to find the paths of sin. It is easy, and, for a season, may seem pleasant, to travel in them. The entrance is inviting, the way is broad, companions are numerous and gay. But when the disappointed and alarmed traveller, terrified at the thought of its termination, seeks to escape, and hunts for the narrow path of virtue, he finds obstacles and entanglements which he cannot climb over nor break. It requires an Omnipotent arm to help him then.
Rodney fell asleep.
How long he had slept he knew not; but he was awakened by a violent shaking and by terrible oaths. The side-door leading into the yard was open, and three or four wretched-looking women were scolding and swearing angrily about him. He was confused, bewildered, but soon perceived that something unusual had happened; and he became very much frightened as he at last learned the truth from the excited women.
Bill Seegor was gone. He had got up quietly when all were asleep, and, drawing the woman's trunk from under her bed, had carried it out into the yard, pried open the lock, stolen the money, and escaped.
The woman was in a terrible passion, and her raving curses were fearful to hear. Rodney pitied her, though she cursed him. He was indignant at his companion's rascality, and offered to go with her and try to find him. It was two o'clock in the morning. He looked round for his hat, collar, and handkerchief; but they were gone. The thief had taken them with him. Taking Bill's old hat, he went out with the woman, and looked into the oyster-cellars and grog-shops, some of which they found still open; but they could find no trace of Bill Seegor.
The woman met a watchman, and made inquiries, and told him of the robbery.
"And this boy came with the man last night, did he?" inquired the watchman.
"He did," said the woman.
"Do you know the boy?"
"I never saw him before."
"Well, I guess he knows where he is, or where he can be found to-morrow."
Rodney protested that he knew nothing about him, that his own hat, collar, and handkerchief had been stolen, and that he had had nothing to do with the robbery. He even told him where he had met with Bill, and how he came to be in his company.
"All very fine, my lad," said the watchman; "but you must go with me. This must be examined into to-morrow."
And he took Rodney by the arm, and led him to the watch-house.
CHAPTER VII.
THE WATCH-HOUSE.
For poor Rodney there was no more sleep that night, even had they placed him on a bed of roses. But they locked him up in a little square room, with an iron-barred window, into which a dim light