The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1897-04-08
OUR STOWAWAY.
BY JENNY WREN.


1t was with a feeling of honest, sea-
man-ike pride I surveyed my vessel
from stem to stern as we babe good-by
to the shores of New York, Watching
them ,gradually recede from our view as
my gallant ship, with sails full set,
swept out into the ocean. She was true
and tried; 1 knew her every beam, and
mad not been her captain for ten long
years without feeling her as much my
own as the children who bounded on
her deck to meet me on my return. My
crew, most Of them, had sailed with me
many time before. Only one man was
new, and he, when presenting himself
before me, although he hardly appeared
seafaring man, took into my service,
Impressed by his bright, honest face,
and the fact that the discharge he
brought in his pocket and showed me
with some pride, proved him honest and
trustworthy. 1t was relief to feel the
excitement of departure was over, and
before us in anticipation highly Sue
cessful voyage. I had just turned to go.
below and look over the iog-book, when
my attention was attracted by SEEM
ing scuffle, and loud and angry voices.
''Ah, the old story" I muttered to my
self. II thought this time we had es-
capped" for quickly perceived the man
the mate was dragging toward me did
not belong to the crew, but had hidden
himself away in the hold, to steal ride
to the port whittier we were bound. It
was no difficult task to force him into
my presence. He was 4 slight, delicate
little fellow, with face Write as ashes,
and trembling like woman. 1 felt
sorry for him, in spite of myself, al
though growled out the query, I fear
with an oath:
What made you hide in my ship?
I've good mind to throw you over
board!''
He opened his mouth to answer, but
no words came, when, to my surprise.
Archer, the new man, stepped forward
and, touching his hat, respectfully said:
Il know him, sir. He wanted pas
sage to Liverpool, and had no money.
You'll find him good worker, sir" l
swore a little at them both, but the mis-
chief was done, there was no help for it;
and telling the mate to put him to work,
continued my interrupted course to
my cabin. had no cause to complain
Of him as the days slipped into weeks;
what work he had to do he did faithful
ly and well-if it was using broom or
climbing rigging. Hard labor he was
unequal to physically, and I would not
permit it to be imposed upon him; but
after time, seeing his willingness,
had most of his duties transferred to
the cabin, where they were lighter and
subject to less exposure. He seemed
bound to Archer by strange ties of graft
tude, and appeared to think he had in
sured my leniency. Whatever delicacies
fell to his share he would carry to him,
and if his own work was light. was ever
anxious to help with his. Once the mate
came to me with a grave face.
Il think, SIR he said, "that Archer
has made Williams run away from
school. He is merely Il boy, and last
night I overheard them talking to-
gether on deck. Archer was telling
him he'd better send word from the first
port that he was safe, but he need not
tell where he was; and Williams was
crying bitterly. Then I came up, and
both looked red and confused, but pre-
tended to have heard nothing"
told the mate to make work as easy
for him AIS he could, for somehow my
own heart seemed to throb in my SYM
pathy for the boy, whose mother,
widow, PERHAPS, mourned, refusing to
be comforted- Next time I saw him
alone questioned him.
''How happened it, Williams, you ran
away to sea? Had you no home?'
Eyes, SIR he answered.; "a good
home. but was not happy there
"You knew Archer we'll at home. did
you not?"
"Yes, sir. quite WE'LL" a. red flush dye
ing his cheeks, while he hung his head
aud moved his feet uneasily.
did he persuade you to run away?"
mo, mo, indeed" and a determina-
ton showed itself in his manner had
never seen before. ''He knew nothing
of it, captain. heard he was to sail on
this ship, and determined to go with
him, knowing would have on board
one friend. / did not think I should find
SO many to be kind to me-
rs your mother living?"
YES he said, sadly. "she mourns
me as dead; but tits better so," the tears
rising in his eyes and falling on his
cheeks.
I said no more then, but could not
account for the strange interest, in
spite of myself, took in our "stow-
away"
The third week out we had a storm
which tried our faithful ship to the ut
most. The timbers creahed, the cordage
strained, but still she rode the waves
and breasted the pillows, mountain
high though they were. Many an hon
est heart beat faster at the memory of
young wives aud little children whose
voices should call them in vain. and
whom they should never meet again
this side, perhaps, the great portals.
Yet TO man failed at his duty; his
cheek might blanch, but his hand did
WI fror,,hlo Opom Williams 1,,bor, T