Two of the best

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. — What Rowdy Did i

II.— Great Changes for Rowdy . n

Chapter I

A THOUGHT flashed into Rowdy’s ** mind. He suddenly left the group of boys who had come down with him that morning to see the steamer on which his father was sailing for Peru. They were so deeply interested in watching the passengers go aboard that they did not miss Rowdy for some time. When they did, they thought he had gone to say good-by again to his father.

Rowdy had resolved to do something else. He ran as fast as he could down the dark, dirty wharf to the street. He jumped on a cable-car. It sped swiftly along, but, quickly as it went, it seemed slow to Rowdy. He had an impulse to swing off the car and run. He was angry every time it stopped for passengers. He scowled at them for making him lose time. The car waited a minute for a pretty girl, who was running to get on it. Rowdy muttered to himself, and gave her such an angry look she was astonished ; but, having a kind heart, she whispered, pityingly, “ Poor little boy, are you in trouble ? ”

“ Naw ! ” scornfully snapped Rowdy.

Fortunately for him, the car stopped but a few times. When he came to the crossing near the house in which he lived, he leaped off so quickly he seemed to fly. He ran rapidly down two blocks and stopped in front of an old, two-story house. Nobody was at home.

“ What luck ! ” thought Rowdy.

The front door was locked. He sped around to the side of the house and down an alley into a little yard upon which the kitchen opened. He put his hand through a broken pane in the kitchen window and, raising it, jumped into the house. He went up-stairs three steps at a time. He bounded into his bedroom, grabbed a pillow, pulled off the case, and ran to his bureau. He jerked open a drawer, and as fast as his fingers could move he stuffed into the pillow-case shirts, socks, and collars. Snatching a coat that was hanging on the door, he flung himself out of the room, saying : “ I bet they won’t search for me when they see V ve taken my things.”

Suddenly he wheeled around and rushed back into the room and took from over his bed an old-fashioned locket. It was made of thin gold, worn thinner by much handling. Its cover was gone. In it was the picture of a woman’s face of rare loveliness. Whoever looked upon it was gladdened by the bright smile that parted the tender lips and shone in the honest eyes. It was the picture of Rowdy’s mother, who had died a week after he was born. He often talked to it, and once, when in great trouble, he prayed to it.

He ran from the room with a whoop, slid down the banisters, plunged through the kitchen and out of the window, and, with head bent forward and heels flying, galloped down the street.

He swung on to a Market Street cable-car, and sat down, mopping his face with an old silk handkerchief, and panting like a tired dog. His heart beat so loudly he thought he could hear it. It seemed as if the pulse at his wrists and temples would throb through his skin. He could hardly sit still. He felt as if he must get out and push the car to make it go faster, faster ! Before it reached the terminus at the wharf, Rowdy was hanging on the front step, ready to leap off like a frightened hare. He hurried along the wharf, slackening his pace a bit as he came near the steamer. The boys did not see him. The gong had just sounded for all persons not going to South America to go ashore. Rowdy quickly sidled up the gangplank. The officer in charge stopped him, shouting : “Here! You young rascal! Off with you ! No one is allowed aboard now.”

Rowdy wriggled out of his grasp, panting : “ I must go on board a second.

These things belong to one of the firemen.”

A quarrel in the crowd on the wharf attracted the officer’s attention. Rowdy slipped by him on to the deck. He ran along it unobserved, and, dodging below, threw his bundle into the donkey-boiler room. He then went above, and was soon lost in the crowd. The gangplank was drawn up. When the steamer moved away from its dock, he was standing forward among the steerage passengers, trying to attract the attention of the boys who had come down with him to see his “ Governor ” off.

The boys finally saw him. They were dumfounded with astonishment for a second, and then they gave a wild whoop of admiration. They hurrahed their goodbys with resounding cheers. Rowdy sprang upon a seat, and, with the sure and easy freedom of a bird, balanced himself on one foot, flinging the other out into the air as he whirled his hat gaily at the boys.

Nat Ryan, destined to be the leader now that Rowdy had gone, pointed to him and declaimed :

“ ‘ The boy stood on the steerage deck, Where none but him had fled ’ ” —

“ He won’t cry ‘ Father,’ I bet,” interrupted Dan Upton, who was quick to see a point.

“ How do you know his father did n’t take him with him ?” demanded Mel Dickinson.

“ Do you s’pose Rowdy ’d been in the steerage if his father had?” asked Dan, mockingly. “ I know his father don’t care a red cent for him, and if he finds out Rowdy ’s on board, he ’ll have him sent back the first chance he gets,” continued Dan.

“ I ’ll bet he ’ll be found out ’fore night and we ’ll see him dodging round here to-morrow,” said George Aulick, enviously.

“ Not by a long sight,” protested bighearted Mel Dickinson, who loved Rowdy like a brother, and stood by his friends ready to help or defend them as faithfully as a Newfoundland dog. “ He won’t go sneaking behind boilers and stowing away. He ’ll walk among the steerage folks as if he was one of ’em and everybody will think he is. D’ ye see ? Rowdy is the smartest feller that ever lived,” announced Mel, growing enthusiastic, and pleased with the fact that he commanded the attention of the group. “ When

Rowdy was only nine his father was going to China, and Rowdy and Charlie Bush sneaked on board and stowed away behind the boiler in the engine-room. They covered themselves with the stringy stuff the engineers clean the boilers with. When the oiler came round to get his rags, he grabbed a bundle of ’em, but some wouldn’t come loose. He had hold of Rowdy’s hair,” explained Mel, laughing. “ You can just guess Rowdy was glib. As the man hauled him out, Rowdy said : ‘ If you don’t mind, I ’d rather have the oil first and the combing after.’ The man thought this was sassy and gave him a cuff on the ear, and would have finished him, only he saw Charlie Bush’s feet sticking out from under the pile of rags. He pulled Charlie out by his feet. The oiler was huffy, I can tell you. He wanted to know how many more there were. Rowdy told him only two of ’em and that they were all alone in the world, and they had hidden in the engine-room cause they wanted to be a chief like him. You see the man was n’t a chief,” snickered Mel, nudging Nat Ryan in the ribs ; “ but it tickled him so to be taken for one, that he said a good word for the boys to the first engineer, who was a bully feller and fixed it with the chief for the boys to stay, if they were willing to work. They said they were. They cleaned cylinders and fetched and carried and helped everybody in the engine-room, from the chief down to the coal-heaver. When they got to Shanghai, where Rowdy’s father was, Rowdy had to do a heap of dodging, but one day he had hold of a door-knob to go into a house and his father had hold of the same knob to come out. Course they ran into each other. Rowdy’s father was so hopping mad, he could do nothing but swear for five minutes. Course he wanted to know what brought Rowdy to that country. Rowdy told him the steamship Japan to

IO

Yokohama and the Costa Rica to Shanghai. His father told him he’d have to take those steamers and go straight back. Rowdy would n’t do it until the American consul got after him. His father told the consul that Rowdy had run away from school ”

“ Rats ! ” interrupted Nat Ryan. “ His father did n’t know he ever went to school. He never did a thing for Rowdy, the Meads say.”

“Yes, he did. He gave the Meads some money for him. But it was fixed that Rowdy should work for his board. You see, boys,” continued Mel, “Rowdy’s had lots of experience for one of his age. He ’s twelve now.”

“More ’n any of us,” said Nat, “and we ain’t tied to anybody’s apron-string either.”

Chapter II

\ AT’HILE the poor boys of the street * * were discussing Rowdy, he was as happy as a squirrel in a nut tree. He screened himself in a group that stood with eyes turned longingly toward San Francisco until that proud city set on hills seemed but a vanishing figure in a cloud. As soon as the steamer passed through the Golden Gate, Rowdy went below and stealthily managed to get his bundle out ii of the donkey-boiler room without anybody’s seeing him. He looked for a berth, and took the first clean one he saw, putting his pillow-case of clothes at the head of the bunk. Not much attention is given to steerage passengers and nobody troubled Rowdy.

He made the acquaintance of two negro minstrel performers. They sang plantation songs, accompanying themselves on their banjos. Rowdy, who had a keen ear for music, joined in the choruses. As he could dance a jig and sing popular ditties, the minstrels asked him to join them. They also asked a quiet boy who played the violin in a remarkably clever way. This odd company made the evenings pass pleasantly for the steerage folk, and soon attracted the attention of the first-cabin passengers, who were ever ready for fresh amusements.

One evening when the minstrels were giving their usual entertainment, Rowdy saw his father and the chief engineer coming forward. His comrades did not know his father was on board. Rowdy slipped away from his companions without saying a word. His father and the chief engineer went to the minstrels, and, after a little chat with them, asked them to sing over again the song they had just finished. The minstrels, missing Rowdy, shouted, “ Lowell ! Lowell ! ”

“ That ’s my name,” answered Rowdy’s father, in some surprise.

“ It ’s the name of one of our jolliest singers,” replied the head minstrel.

Rowdy not responding to their call, the minstrels strummed on their banjos and sang several darky melodies without him.

Rowdy had gone down the gangway at the other side of the ship, never thinking his father would come there. It was a cul-de-sac, and there was but one way out of it. To Rowdy’s dismay, the chief engineer, who wished to show Mr. Lowell something, led him down the gangplank. Rowdy could neither run nor hide, and stood facing the men as they came down.

“ What in thunder are you doing here ? ” exclaimed Mr. Lowell, glaring in angry surprise at Rowdy.

“ Going to South America,” answered Rowdy, fearlessly.

“ With whom ?” demanded his father.

“ Myself,” said Rowdy, grinning.

“ Who is paying your way ? ” persisted Mr. Lowell.

“That’s my affair,” responded Rowdy, scowling furtively at the chief engineer.

Mr. Lowell uttered an unrepeatable oath, and, turning away in disgust from his son, mounted the gangway.

The next evening all the steerage passengers were upon the forward deck. The boys and the minstrels were singing and playing, as usual. Rowdy was in high spirits and danced gaily. He had heard nothing from his father, and had concluded that he was ashamed to own a stowaway as a son.

Rowdy was dancing and singing when he suddenly heard his father saying, “ There he is ! That ’s the young rascal ! ” He turned, and saw his father and the chief engineer.

Mr. Lowell took Rowdy by the collar and led him off to the captain.

“Where ’s your ticket, young man?” sternly demanded the captain.

“ I don’t know. I have n’t seen it,” saucily answered Rowdy. The captain, not at all pleased with this insolent answer, requested the chief engineer to take charge of Rowdy and put him to work.

“ Make him earn his passage till you can put him aboard a return steamer for San Francisco,” said Mr. Lowell.

The chief took Rowdy down to the engine-room and, turning him over to the first engineer, said : “ Need somebody to i6 shovel coal, don’t you ? Here’s a young man out of work.”

“ And out of luck,” muttered Rowdy, remembering with a sickening feeling the hot, dirty stokehole in which he occasionally helped when a stowaway on the steamer to Shanghai.

“ His father is a first-cabin

ROWDY IN THE ENGINE ROOM passenger, but refuses to put up for this scapegrace, who tried to steal a passage. Make him sweat for his bread,” said the chief as he mounted the steep iron ladder.

In a short time, Rowdy, stripped to the waist, was heaving coal and raking the red-hot furnaces, that gleamed, crackled, and glowed with a fierce heat that scorched his face and hands. The red glare blinded him and the hot air almost suffocated him. He shovelled with an unsteady hand and foot, and at times it seemed as if he would slip and lurch forward into the cave of flames. The thud, thud of the engine deafened him, and the smell of the oil and the rolling motion of the ship made him dizzy and sick. He was angry with his father. He would see that he was kept at work, and the harder it was the more his father, who was a boon companion of the chief engineer, would approve of it.

“ Better heave away, young fellow,” said an old coal-passer, not unkindly. He was a bit of a philosopher, and added, cheerily : “ The sooner yer see yer can’t get something for nothing in this world, the more of a man yer ’ll be. It’s a deal sight better to be a coal-heaver than a stowaway. This is work. You ’re some account in this world when yer work. Thank God for work, sez I.”

The story of Rowdy’s discovery was told not only in the steerage, but on the upper deck. Some companions of his father went down into the stokehole to see the bright little chap of whom they had heard. They grumbled at the hotness, the darkness, and the closeness of the place. One and all took a liking to Rowdy, He looked like an imp of fire. His square, well-knit body, bared to the waist, already gave signs of strength. His large, dark eyes shone and his even white teeth gleamed in the fire-flame as he laughed at some remark of the wittiest of his visitors. He hated his work. He resented their coming, but he was not going to let them know he cared. He faced his furnace with neither a whine nor a grumble.

“ How do you like working your passage ? ” queried the most disagreeable of his callers.

“Jolly job feeding fire,” readily answered Rowdy, tossing a shovelful into the blazing furnace as if he liked to do it.

“ Bah ! You can’t fool me by that sort of bluff,” jeered the man.

“ I ’m some account now,” answered Rowdy, recalling the remark of the old coal-passer. “ Where would you, or anybody else be, if we let the fires go out ? ” he demanded, tossing his head half waggishly, half defiantly, in the old way the boys in Market Street knew so well.

“ By Jove ! he ’s got sand!” said the man as he breathed the fresh air on deck and realized how different it was from the atmosphere in the stokehole.

“ Lowell, you ought to be proud of that boy,” said good-natured Dick Grant. “ He has the spirit of a fighting-cock. I wish I had a son like him.” The other men made remarks in the same vein.

Dick Grant finally offered to pay the boy’s passage, adding : “ If you don’t want that young firebrand I ’d be glad to adopt him. A chap that takes his medicine as he does has the right sort of metal in him.”

This remark appealed to the vanity, if not to the pride of Rowdy’s father. For the first time in his life, his conscience troubled him. Perhaps his treatment of his son had been too indifferent, too neglectful. The men by their talk seemed to reflect upon him. He could not endure that. He sent for Rowdy.

Rowdy came up on deck, looking black and somewhat dirty, but spirited and fearless. His father began by telling him he was ashamed he had a son who had no more self-respect than to steal his passage and what he ate. “ You are really a thief, you know, to ”

“ Fine talk for the like of you ! I do not see that it ever made any difference to you what I did,” interrupted Rowdy, angrily.

This remark almost determined his father to send Rowdy back to the stokehole again ; but he knew in his heart he had not cared for his son properly. “ This is your gratitude, is it ? ” he asked. “ You young dog. I Ve sent for you to travel with me, and I have a berth for you.”

Rowdy was so completely surprised that he simply stared at his father without uttering a word.

“ Do you hear me ? ” shouted his father, angrily.

“Yes, I hear,” answered Rowdy, sullenly. A hard struggle was going on within him. He did not wish to go back to the stokehole, and yet his spirit rebelled against accepting what his father had offered him in such a manner. He stood irresolute for a moment, then said :

“ Thanks ; I prefer to work my passage,” and shoving his hands in his pockets he turned to go below.

“You see what an ungrateful cub he is,” remarked Mr. Lowell to the men.

Dick Grant, the man who had taken such a liking to Rowdy, called out : “ Rowdy ! Rowdy ! If you won’t take the price of your passage from your father, take this money and buy it yourself,” and he held out four twenty-dollar gold pieces, saying: “If I can help it, you ’re not going in that hole again. You ’re too young for that sort of work.” Rowdy saw that he was in earnest, and stood flushed and shamefaced.

“ Come down off your stilts, young man, and let me find out what sort of a son I have,” said his father in a conciliatory tone.

Rowdy did not enjoy heaving coal. He felt like a prisoner in a hot dungeon. The brilliant sunshine, the gay wind, and the merry waves all invited him to stay on deck. He was hungry, and the thought of the good things to eat that first-cabin passengers get, weakened his will ; his impulse was to accept the money, and he stepped toward Dick Grant, then stood still. He did not know it, but stronger than personal feeling was his family pride. As little as he loved or respected his father, he could not demean him by refusing his offer to accept that of a stranger. He shook his head at Dick Grant, and moodily went below. His father rose without saying a word, and went straight to the captain. Handing him the ticket he had bought for Rowdy, he said : “ Cap, I have n’t done right by that boy of mine. He won’t take this from me. I ’d be glad if you ’d manage it.”

That night when Rowdy went on duty he was told by the chief engineer that he was “ honorably discharged,” and that the captain wished to see him above.

After a friendly interview with the captain, Rowdy was installed as a first-cabin passenger, much to the delight of his friends in the steerage, for whom he did not hesitate to fill his pockets full of good things at the dinner-table every night. His father treated him kindly, and seemed proud of him. He called him Robert in a tone he had never used before, and commanded his son not to answer to the nickname, “ Rowdy.”

“ It ’s ’stablished now ; can’t be changed. Sounds as if people were mad at me when they call me ‘ Robert,’ ” explained Rowdy. “ I ’ll tell new people my name ’s Robert,” he added, quickly. As he grew more and more friendly with his father, he wished to please him.

Rowdy’s remark caused a fine-looking man standing near him to smile encouragingly at the boy. The man was Professor Williams, an astronomer and scientist of renown, who was going to Peru. He was a first-cabin passenger, but had the run of the ship, having taken many a trip with the captain. He knew the mate, the second engineer, and some of the sailors. He was interested in people as well as in rocks, and was a most welcome visitor in the steerage, where he was known as “ Doctor Williams.”

“ The sight of him makes a fellow feel better,” remarked a man in the steerage whose health had been greatly improved by following the helpful advice of Professor Williams. Many of the steerage folk felt as this man did. There was scarcely a face in the steerage that did not brighten when Professor Williams appeared. His smile and laugh were infectious. Some days when he went below there was such a showing of teeth that all the steerage seemed to be a-grin with pleasure. Very little escaped his keen gray eyes. He had seen Rowdy’s courageous, if somewhat defiant, work in the stokehole, and had had many pleasant chats with the boy. Rowdy liked him thoroughly. Professor Williams was already like a father to the quiet boy, Clarence Whittleby, whose own father, who was ill when the steamer started, had died when they were two days out. The care, thoughtfulness, and affection that Clarence had shown towards his father had won for the boy the liking of every woman in the steerage and of many of the men. His playing on the violin had pleased them all, and although he did not appear to be as popular as Rowdy, Clarence was a prime favorite on the ship and Rowdy’s special chum. Poor Clarence was very lonely. He missed his kind father more and more every day. It did not seem the same world without the one who had taught him the violin, played, read, walked, talked, and shared all his pleasures with him as an older brother, yet advised and guided him as a wise and tender parent. Rowdy felt sorry for Clarence, although he could not understand his loss, and never forgot to put something good to eat in his pocket to take to his chum in the steerage.

Rowdy was as frisky as a happy chipmunk. Never in all his life had his father been so kind to him. He chummed with the second engineer, played with the sailors, danced and sang in the steerage, and made himself welcome all over the ship. His joy was of short duration.

Chapter III

CHANGE in the barometer gave signs of a coming storm, although the weather was fair. The captain feared the treacherous currents near the coast and decided to put on full steam and make a run for San Juanito Island. He hoped to gain a safe harbor before the storm came on. The good ship was soon speeding rapidly along. With steam belching, engines throbbing, wheels whizzing, and timbers creaking, it seemed a thing of life, trembling with the excitement of the chase. It sped gaily for some hours, as if it were sure of victory. About three o’clock in the morning it was attacked by an unseen foe. With shrieks, whistles, and long-drawn-out moans, as if a thousand voices were shouting a fierce battlecry, the lawless wind struck the brave old ship. She staggered, then rallied, and flew on ; but, fast as she went, she could not race against the furious gale that seemed to rush from every point of the compass and strike at once. The sea joined the wind, and together they battered against the sides, and in mad fury swept the decks, carrying away parts of the rigging and the smokestack, and washing two men overboard. The old ship trembled with rage, and seemed unable to go on ; but, gathering new strength and courage, plunged fearlessly ahead toward its haven of safety. The sea and wind, lashing and roaring, caught it and, swerving it from its course, tossed it like a plaything hither and thither, threatening every moment to fling it in pieces on the shore.

Like a wounded sea-bird, the ship fluttered and rocked in the trough of the angry sea, and then, as if borne upon wings, it battled through the blasting waves that towered above it.

The cry, “ Man the boats ! ” sounded like a death-sentence to many of the panic-stricken passengers, who were praying and weeping.

Everything was in confusion. Only a few brave men and women were calm. Some rushed wildly for life-preservers, putting them on the wrong way ; others, scarcely knowing what they did, tried to climb upon the ship’s railing, and were swept overboard. In a brief lull two boats were launched in the vain hope that they would weather the sea and reach land. In one was Rowdy’s father and his companions. In the excitement, Mr. Lowell forgot his son.

Clarence had been brought on deck by Professor Williams when the storm began and put in the latter’s stateroom. When the Professor found that Rowdy was

31 “hold tight, FOR YOUR LIVES ! ”

deserted he carried him to Clarence, and told the boys to wait therefor him. They spent the time, not realizing their danger, getting down the life-preservers and trying to put them on. Suddenly the room was flooded with water. Professor Williams dashed in, caught up the boys, and hurried to the fore part of the steamer. They huddled there a moment, then Professor Williams shouted : “ Go for the rigging ! ” They went like frightened monkeys. The Professor followed, telling them how to hold on and the way to brace their feet for support and protection. “Hold tight, for your lives!” he yelled. They soon knew the reason why. A great wave dashed over the deck. The steamer had sprung aleak. It rolled to and fro as if in agony, and, shivering as if it would go to pieces, the noble old ship that had made such a splendid fight struck bottom. The stern went under, and the waves dashed from port to starboard. The spar to which Professor Williams and the boys were clinging remained out of water. The spray from a great wave occasionally wet them. Rowdy clung to his post as if he had grown to it, and as the spar swayed in the driving wind his heart thrilled with wild joy, and he whooped in ecstasy as much as in dread. Professor Williams rallied Clarence, who would have dropped but for his words of encouragement.

Only the Professor knew the real danger, and he was so calm and brave that he gave a feeling of safety and security to the boys.

Hour after hour they clung to the spar ; it seemed as if daylight would never come. Suddenly they saw a vessel in the distance. They were not sure she would sight them. She finally did, and headed towards them. Clarence almost lost his hold, although his feet were firmly set in twists of rope. Professor Williams shouted sternly to him to be a man and not give up like a coward when rescue was so near at hand. It seemed a long time before the Santa Rosa came up to them. She was a big steel boat, but the sea was running so high she rolled like a skiff. At times she seemed to ride in the air, and Rowdy could see her white bottom below her water-line. The captain did not attempt to lower a boat. It would have gone to pieces in that fearful sea.

When the Santa Rosa got within a cable’s length of the wreck, strong voices were heard yelling : “ Hang on ! Don’t

give up. We ’ll get you off !”

She circled round them, coming nearer and nearer, until she was within a few rods, when a big roller swept her far out. She went off to starboard, rolling heavily. She came back again, and again she missed them. They could not have taken a line had one been thrown to them. Professor Williams divined that the way they