Jack Harvey

Home

16. Artie Jenkins Comes Aboard



Early in the afternoon, on the day of the events just related, a bug-eye had turned in at a little cove at a place some ten miles up the Patuxent river called Sotterly. The sails were dropped and a boat was lowered. A tall, sharp featured, keen-eyed man, who had been giving orders, called out to one of the sailors. "Get into this skiff, Sam Black," he said; "I want you to row me ashore."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n Bill," responded the man. He shuffled to the side of the vessel, stepped into the boat alongside, and took his seat at the oars.

When the skiff had reached shore and had been drawn up on land, "Cap'n Bill" tossed an empty gunny sack to the sailor.

"Going back up to Hollywood," he remarked. "I reckon you won't cut and run on me, eh?"

"I reckon not, with the season's wages coming to me from Haley," responded the sailor, and added, gruffly, "It's the third winter I've been oystering with Haley. He and I get along. He don't bother me none. When he growls at me, I give it back to him, I do. That's the way to get along with him. There ain't many as dares do it, though."

Captain Bill gave a chuckle.

"You're shrewder than you look," he said. "But you're all right. Ham Haley says you're the best man he's got aboard. When you get sick of the Brandt, you come and sign with me. Good men are sure enough scarce."

"I reckon we'd get along, too," assented Sam Black.

With this somewhat unusual exchange of cordiality, captain and sailor went on together up the road leading back inland from the shore. After walking about a mile, they turned off on a cross-road that led more to the southward, and proceeded along that for a distance of some three miles. They passed a score of houses on either side of the road, and came at length to a settlement comprising about twenty houses at the junction of cross-roads.

Fetching up at a building which, by its display of dusty boxes seen through still more dusty windows, proclaimed itself to be a country store, Captain Bill entered, followed by Sam Black. The latter, seating himself on an up-ended cracker box at the farther end of the store, proceeded to solace himself with a black, short-stemmed pipe, while Captain Bill entered into conversation with the proprietor.

Their negotiations were interrupted presently by the entrance of a young man, who sauntered in, with an air of importance as befitting one who was evidently from the city and impressed with his own superior worldliness. His dress, though of a flashy character and glazed by wear at elbows and knees, was yet distinctly of a city cut, and he displayed certain tawdry jewelry to the most advantage. He nodded patronizingly to the keeper of the store.

"How'd do, Artie," said the storekeeper. "When are you going back?"

"About as soon as I can get there now, Ben," replied the youth, yawning. "I like to come up and see the folks, all right, but it's deadly dull here. I want a little bit more of the electric lights and something going on at night. Not much like Baltimore down here."

"No, I guess not," admitted the other. "I hear you're doing pretty well up there-let's see, what is it you're in?"

The youth paused a moment, then replied, "Oh, I'm running things for a contractor. Expect I'll go in with him some day, when I get a couple of thousand more put away."

Captain Bill, turning to observe the youth who was speaking, gave a start of astonishment. He turned away again, but cast several sharp glances at the young man from the corners of his eyes.

"Well, I'm blest if it isn't Artie Jenkins," he muttered. "The measly little crimp!"

Which term, be it known, is that applied to those engaged in that peculiar calling in which young Artie Jenkins was a bright and shining light-the trapping of unfortunate victims and selling them to the dredgers and such other craft as could make use of them.

Some time later, Captain Bill followed the youth outside the store and hailed him, as the latter was walking away.

"Hello," he said, "wait a minute."

The young man turned and stared at the stranger in surprise.

"You don't know me, I reckon," ventured Captain Bill, extending a hand, which the other took carelessly.

"Can't say I do," was the reply.

"Well, I know you, just the same," continued Captain Bill. "You're name's Jenkins, if I'm not mistaken. The fact is, Jenkins, you may not remember it, but you did a little business for me once in your line up in Baltimore, and I may say, I never did see such good fellows as you shipped down to me-every one of them good for dredging and willing enough to work, when they got used to the business."

Artie Jenkins's manner became more friendly. It was not his fortune to meet, usually, with a captain who had a good word of this kind to say to him. He smiled affably.

"Well, I try to suit my clients, the captains, as best I can, and be fair and square with them," he said. "But I can't say as I remember you."

"It was some time ago that we did business," explained Captain Bill. He made an inward comment, also, that it was a bargain he had never forgotten, in which three men already ill had been shipped down to him by the clever Mr. Jenkins, causing him a total loss of thirty dollars, besides the trouble of getting rid of the men again, before they all died aboard.

"See here, Jenkins," he went on, "I'm right glad I fell in with you. Here's a chance for you to turn a dollar down here. I need a man. Can you get him for me?"

Artie Jenkins's eyes lighted up with cunning; then an expression of doubt overcast his face.

"I sort of hate to do it down here," he said. "They all know me, and most of 'em know what the dredgers are like. I might do something if a stranger happened along, but that isn't very likely this time of year. Still, I'll be on the lookout; something might turn up. You're down at Sotterly, eh? Be there till to-morrow noon? All right, I'll look around, anyway. If I do anything I'll be down. Will fix you, anyway, soon as I get back to Baltimore. Good day."

"Good day," responded Captain Bill.

Watching until he saw Artie Jenkins turn off on the road and disappear, Captain Bill returned to the store, and beckoned to Sam Black. The sailor came forward.

"Did you see that young chap I was talking to?" inquired Captain Bill.

Sam Black nodded. "The little dude," he said, contemptuously.

"Did he get a look at you, think?" asked Captain Bill.

"Why, no, he didn't see me, I reckon," said the sailor, with surprise.

"Good!" exclaimed Captain Black. "Pick up that sack and come on. I'll tell you what I want, on the way."

Sam Black shouldered the sack, and they started back in the direction of the shore.

"That little rascal, Artie Jenkins, is the meanest crimp in Baltimore!" exclaimed Captain Bill. "Fools us, right along," he added, with virtuous indignation. "What's the use of crimping a man as won't be any good when he's down the bay? That's what I want to know. He does it right along. I say as how it's a shame to knock a man out and use him like they do, unless he's going to be some good to us, when we get him. That's why Ham Haley and I have got it in for Artie Jenkins."

"Now," continued Captain Bill, "I'm going to send you back there again, to ship with him aboard my bug-eye. Do you understand? He'll come down with you here to-night, and we'll attend to the rest. You don't know anything about me nor my dredger-understand?"

Sam Black grinned.

"I'll fix him," he said. "I'm against all crimps."

It was three o'clock when captain and man went aboard the dredger at Sotterly. A half-hour later, there emerged from the cabin an individual resembling Sam Black only in face and form; he was dressed in "shore" clothes, furnished from the captain's own supply. Save for a bit of a roll in his gait, he might have passed for a farmhand. He went rapidly, with long strides, up the road he had come shortly before.

At five o'clock that afternoon, Artie Jenkins stepped from a dooryard in the town and walked slowly down the road in the direction of the store. He toyed with a lighted cigarette, and seemed thinking, deeply.

"I'm afraid I can't make it," he murmured. "My own town, too. Still business is business-there's Tom Carver-no, I couldn't get him. Hang the luck-"

He was interrupted, unexpectedly. A man suddenly appeared from the side of the road, and waited for him to come up. It was dusk, but Artie Jenkins perceived that the man was a stranger in the town. He noted his appearance. Could this be a stroke of luck?

"What might the name of this place be?" inquired the stranger.

"Hollywood," replied Artie Jenkins. "Never 'round these parts before?"

"No," said the man. "I come from up yonder, Hillville. Lost my job on a farm there. Nothing doing now. Know of anyone that would like a good man to work around a place?"

Artie Jenkins puffed at his cigarette, while his sallow cheeks, unhealthy and pale, showed a tinge of colour. He turned to the man and put a hand on his shoulder, patronizingly.

"Well, if you're not in luck!" he cried. "You hit on the one man in all Hollywood that can help you out. There isn't a job in town for a farm hand now, but I can get you a nice, easy berth on an oysterman for the rest of the season. Ever on one?"

"Never was off land but once on a steamer," replied the man. "Always thought as how I'd like to go a voyage, too. Kind of hard work, though, isn't it?"

"A sight easier than farming," answered Artie Jenkins. "Easiest in the world, if you get the right captain. Funny how you happened along. Why, it wasn't but a few hours ago that I met a captain I know, that wanted a man. He'll pay twenty-five a month, and everyone says Captain Bill feeds his men like aldermen. Fresh meats and vegetables and a bit extra on Sundays and holidays."

"He does that, eh, this ere Cap'n Bill you speaks of?" said the stranger.

"That's his reputation," assured Artie Jenkins.

The man turned his head away, to hide a grin.

"I guess I'll try it," he said, "if you'll go along and fix it up for me."

"Sure," said Artie Jenkins. "I like to oblige a man when I see he's in hard luck. You wait down there at the store for me, till I get my big coat. I'll be along soon. By the way, what's your name?"

"Sam Black," replied the stranger.

Sam Black, seating himself discreetly outside the store, on a step, not to be observed from within, allowed his grin to expand and give vent in a hoarse guffaw, as Artie Jenkins was lost to view.

"Reckon I'll like them extras on Sundays and holidays," he muttered, and roared again. "And p'raps somebody else will like 'em too-if he gets 'em."

Half an hour later, Artie Jenkins and his prize went along down the road in the dark of early nightfall, in the direction of Sotterly landing. It was nearly eight o'clock when they arrived at the shore of a cove some distance across from the wharf, and made out the masts and hull of the bug-eye. It lay a little off from shore, with a lantern in the fore-shrouds.

Artie Jenkins put his fingers to his lips and gave forth several shrill whistles. The figure of a man presently appeared, in the light that gleamed from the cabin, and stepped on deck.

"Hello, hello, Captain Bill," called Artie Jenkins.

The man replied; they saw him step into a small skiff alongside and row toward them. He drew the skiff to shore, a few minutes later, and approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Jenkins," he said. "Who's this-somebody that wants to ship?"

"Yes, and a good man, too," replied Artie Jenkins. "He's been farming, and thinks he'd like oystering with you better. I've known him two years; he's been at work up in Hillville. His name is Sam Black."

Captain Bill's chuckle was unheard by Artie Jenkins.

"You'll know him a lot better," he said to himself; and added, aloud, "All right. Kind of you to fetch him down. Come out aboard and have something."

The three got into the skiff, and Captain Bill rowed them out to the bug-eye.

"I'll see you in a minute or two," he said to Sam Black, motioning to him to go forward. "Come on down, Mr. Jenkins;" and he whispered, "I've got the ten dollars ready for you, and a drop of something for the cold."

The two descended into the cabin.

A moment later, Captain Bill's mate quietly drew the anchor off bottom, took a turn with the rope about the bitts, then stepped to the halyards and raised the foresail a little. The bug-eye drifted out into the current, caught the tide and was carried a way up-stream. The foresail was run up till it was all set. Sam Black had crept cautiously aft to the wheel, and the craft now turned, under headway, and began creeping downstream, slowly.

"Here's the money," said Captain Bill, fumbling about in a wallet that he had produced. "Sit down. Make yourself at home. You've had a long walk-"

Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang to his feet.

"You're drifting, aren't you, Captain Bill?" he said. "You're dragging your anchor, I think."

"No, I guess not," replied the other. "Sit down. I'll ask the mate, anyway."

He stepped to the companion and called out.

"Give her a bit more scope, mate," he cried. "Guess she is dragging a bit."

"Aye, aye, sir," responded the mate, and went on cautiously and quietly raising the foresail. The bug-eye was nearly in mid-stream.

Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang from his seat again, and started for the companion. A powerful hand on his shoulder restrained him.

"Let me go!" he cried, fiercely. "What kind of a trick do you call this?" He wrenched, to free himself from the other's grasp; but he was drawn back. Captain Bill seized him by the throat and forced him down on one of the bunks.

"You're not going ashore this trip," he said, sharply. "Captain Ham Haley and I have got a bone to pick with you."

Trapped at last, Artie Jenkins fought with all his strength; but he was no match for the stalwart captain. Exhausted, battered and thoroughly terrified, he sank back on the bunk and begged for mercy.

"It isn't right, Bill," he pleaded. "You ain't playing the game fair. How are you going to get men, if you go and nab a man that's in the business with you? Nobody ever did that before? Haven't I always used you right?"

"No, you haven't," exclaimed Captain Bill; "and you're going down the bay. Now you just keep below and stay quiet. You know what they get if they holler."

Captain Bill, with this parting injunction, went on deck. The bug-eye's sails were all set and she was going down the river.

Several hours later, a forlorn figure appeared at the companion-way, cautiously, ready to dodge a blow from Captain Bill's boot.

"Bill," said Artie Jenkins, plaintively, "Haley won't stand for this. He knows it isn't the way to play the game."

"No?" queried Captain Bill, contemptuously, "you can ask Haley, yourself. Here he comes now."

The bug-eye, Brandt, was indeed coming up the river, near at hand, standing out from behind a point of land. The two vessels were soon side by side, drifting for a moment up with the tide.