University of Virginia Library

9. IX.
THE WATCH-HOUSE COMPANIONS.

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 731EAF. Page 096. In-line Illustration. Image of two men standing half hidden behind a wall. Many items are stacked in front of the wall.]

UP started Cheesy, with a cry of joy. In
the excitement of the moment, he struck
his head against the bunk above, with a
force which filled the entire region of
brain under his left eye-brow with sparks.
He did not mind that, however.

“Hillo, Mr. Thorne!” he exclaimed,
chuckling with delight. “I 'm glad to see
ye! How 'd you find me, though?”

Caleb regarded him with an uncertain, haggard look, and
seemed making an effort to recall to mind something he had
forgotten.

“Get into the upper bunk, young man,” said the watchman.
“Do you hear? Let this man sleep where you are. Get in
there, old fellow!”

The speaker withdrew, locking the two up in the cell together.
Cheesy began to rub his eyes with bewilderment.

“Are you going to stop here, too?” he asked, staring at Caleb.
“An't it morning?”

The mendicant steadied himself by the wall, and seized hold of

the grating of the door, letting his head fall heavily upon his
breast.

“Where did you leave Mr. Mer'vale?” inquired Cheesy, timidly,
after a pause.

Upon that Caleb started, and looked at him more fixedly, staggering
forward and laying his hand upon his shoulder.

“Are you the boy that was with Mr. Merrivale?” he asked, in
a depressed, indistinct voice.

“Why, yes! did n't you know it?”

“Where is he? what has he done with my child?”

Caleb spoke in a strange, passionate manner, which filled
Cheesy with alarm.

“I don' know,” he faltered. “I thought you did. I thought
he sent you to find me.”

Caleb's head fell again upon his breast. Muttering unintelligibly,
he rolled into the bunk Cheesy had vacated, and lay there,
uttering faint groans with every breath he drew.

It took Cheesy a long time to get rid of the idea that Caleb
had been sent by Martin to find him out, and deliver him from
the watch-house. But at length he saw how it was. The mendicant
had murdered Mr. Merrivale for his money, and been
arrested! Possessed with this uncomfortable notion, he shrank
with curdling blood from the assassin's presence, and looked miserably
through the iron grating for the captain, who he hoped
would in mercy let him out or remove his dreadful companion.

The first object which attracted Cheesy's attention was a young
woman, coarsely dressed, but quite rosy and pretty, who came
tripping down stairs, followed by the captain with his keys. She
appeared very merry over her misfortunes. Laughing in the
man's face, she inquired which room he was going to put her in

to-night — the old one? — as if she had been there before. Passing
by Cheesy's door, she called him her dove, asked him what he was
staring at, and snapped her fingers at his nose. Whilst the captain
was shutting her up, an assistant appeared with a young girl,
not more than fourteen years old, plainly but very neatly attired,
with her hair, which was long and black, fallen in disorder about
her face and neck. This was quite a different case from the
other. The girl was sobbing violently. To be brought to such a
place seemed to give her the keenest tortures of soul; and when
the bold woman invited her to share her cell, telling her to cheer
up and laugh it off, she pleaded, with trembling earnestness, that
she might not be thrown into such company, for she was not one
like her, — she called Heaven to witness that she was not.

“She tells the truth, I 'm pretty sure, captain,” said the assistant.
“I know her father; a good man enough, only when he is
drunk; then he 's in the habit of turning his family out doors.
How long had you been in the street when the watch picked you
up?”

The girl said not long, and went sobbing and moaning into the
cell adjoining Cheesy's. The other woman laughed, and told her,
for her comfort, that after she had been to the watch-house as
often as she had, she would n't mind it; she would rather enjoy
the thing, for variety's sake.

“The captain is a good fellow; an't ye, captain?” she cried,
archly. “Him and me 's old friends.”

“I 'm afraid our acquaintance is going to be broke off for a
little while, my lass,” replied the captain. “You 'll get sent over
this time, sure. You 're good for six months, my girl.”

The threat appeared to irritate her, and — still preserving her
artificial gayety — she railed at the captain spitefully. He

laughed, and asked her if she did not want to wear the “ruffles”
a little while, and retire to the lock-up for the night; an insinuation
which seemed slightly to obstruct her flow of spirits.

At that moment, a slim gentleman, with a smiling, inquisitive
face, appeared on the stairs, and addressed the captain's assistant
familiarly, by the name of Moore.

“Ha, Peter!” replied Mr. Moore, who was a shrewd, quiet,
intelligent young man; “you 're just in time.”

“How 's business?” asked Peter. “Is there much doing to-night?”

“Business was rather dull, the first of the evening,” replied
Mr. Moore. “But it 's coming up a little now. In fact, it 's
getting quite brisk. Should n't you say so, captain?”

“It 's a little lively just now,” observed the captain. “Is this
Mr. Toplink?”

“That 's my name,” said the slim gentleman, overflowing with
the best of feeling. “Happy to meet you, captain. This is my
friend, Mr. Leviston. Any interesting cases?” asked the slim
gentleman, after the formal introduction of his companion.

The captain catalogued his guests in a rapid, matter-of-fact
manner, styling Cheesy a fellow who had left home without his
mother's knowledge, and got lost; and describing Caleb as a countryman,
who had been picked up in the street whilst laboring
under a heavy load of bricks. Cheesy felt very much ashamed
on being exhibited and stared at as a curiosity; but, at the same
time, it was a relief to him to know that Mr. Thorne was guilty
of no worse crime than that of stealing bricks, and to feel that
Mr. Merrivale still lived.

The visitors did not seem to consider Cheesy and his companion
as worthy of much attention. Mr. Leviston, in fact, regarded

the whole exhibition with indifference. He looked on with a contemptuous
smile, when Toplink, engaging the saucy young woman
in conversation, endeavored to cope with her in the use of slang
terms and coarse wit. But some careless phrase the woman had
let fall attracted him; and, on the discomfiture of Toplink, he
advanced and spoke to her. His address was grave and dignified,
and she could not but show him some little respect. Although
inclined to be facetious at first, she gradually became thoughtful
and silent as he talked to her; and at length Cheesy could hear
her answer in low and passionate tones, broken by sobs. Mr.
Leviston told her that he once knew a girl who was beautiful and
proud; who was idolized by all her friends; but who had turned
traitress to everything that was good and pure and true, and
broken the hearts of her parents, and made one, at least, who
loved her, doubt whether there was any such thing as virtue
in the world.

“You may have been like her, as she is now like you,” he
added, while the woman wept without restraint. “If so, go back,
— go back! You know not what you do!” And so he left her.

His few words had made almost another being of her. No
more light, artificial laughter rung from her hollow heart that
night, but tears gushed up from fountains which had long lain
buried beneath the loathsome rubbish of an evil life.

Whilst Toplink and his friend remained below, three other cases
were brought down. One was a tall, slender individual, with
features which were fine and intellectual in their expression, but
so deadly pale, so ghastly and solemn, as to startle the beholder.
He was fashionably dressed, but showed no shirt-collar; his coat,
buttoned to his throat, looked as if it had been dragged and rolled
in the street; and his hat, which might have been a glossy

beaver an hour or two before, appeared sadly battered and soiled.
This person walked with excessive dignity, and entered his allotted
cell without moving a muscle of his face. If he had been an
emperor, with the honor of nations depending upon the gravity of
his deportment, he could not have preserved his state more conscientiously.

After him came a drunken Irishman, who had been taken up
in a street-fight. But the last was perhaps the most painfully
interesting case of all. This was another young girl, not more
than sixteen at the most. She was in a perfectly helpless condition;
and Cheesy heard the captain tell Mr. Toplink that she was
taken from a house which the police had entered in search of
burglars, and that she had in all probability been drugged.
Although she seemed to lack the power of moving hand or foot,
she appeared conscious of all that was taking place around her,
and kept moaning, like a dying child, “Mother! mother!
mother!” in the most plaintive tones, and with a hopeless, helpless
look, which moved the hearts of all who witnessed the
piteous spectacle. Mr. Leviston became quite excited. He
demanded, almost angrily, why should such corruption and disease
be allowed to exist in the very brain of New England, whilst
she was sending her spiritual physicians to India and Asia, and
forwarding Bibles and clothing to unknown heathen tribes? The
captain shook his head dubiously; Mr. Moore observed that it
was no use doing anything for some people, except to shut 'em up
when you catch 'em; and Mr. Toplink added, “Very true.”

The girl that had been drugged was placed in the cell with her
who had been turned out of doors by her father, and the men
soon after went up stairs. Then Cheesy, who climbed over Caleb
Thorne and got into the bunk above, could hear the helpless

creature moan faintly and more faintly, “Mother! mother!”
while her new companion endeavored to soothe her with kind
words. Listening to these sounds, he once more fell asleep, and
did not awake until morning.

Cheesy and Caleb were taken from the cell, and restored to liberty
at the same time. The captain gave the boy his knife,
which he termed a weapon, and told a man in attendance to conduct
him to Mr. J. Dabney's store.

“Come along, then,” said the man, setting out at a fast walk.

Cheesy was in high spirits. Freedom, and the anticipation of
a speedy meeting with his uncle, excited a sudden reäction in his
mind. Although his limbs were stiff from past fatigue and exposure,
and although he experienced a hollowness in the region of
the stomach, betokening long abstinence from food, which gave
him no little uneasiness, he followed his guide with joyful alacrity,
grinning and chuckling with delight.

The morning air was chill and bracing. The streets, to
Cheesy's eye, looked pleasant and fresh. He enjoyed their novelty
with keen relish. How changed the city was since he went
wandering through its labyrinthine ways, homeless and hopeless,
supperless and lost! He could now scarce repress the gushes of
song which rose spontaneously to his lips; and all his trouble
of the night before seemed like an ugly dream.

After passing through several streets, his conductor stopped at
a store where there was a squint-eyed lad taking the shutters
from the windows.

“Where 's Mr. Dabney?” he asked.

“He han't come down,” replied the lad. “Do you want to
see him for anything particular?”

“I want to leave this boy in his hands. He calls himself his

nephew. I suppose he can stop here till Mr. Dabney comes
down?”

The lad grumbled that he supposed so, and regarded Cheesy
with a suspicious look, spiced with contempt.

“Is Mr. Dabney your uncle?” he inquired, with a sneer, after
the man was gone.

The lad was rather smartly dressed, and Cheesy, thinking he
might be a clerk, stood a little in awe of him. Yet he answered,
with a good deal of confidence, that Mr. Dabney was his uncle,
and that he was very anxious to see him.

“I guess he 'll be anxious to see you, too,” muttered the lad.
“Here, don't get in my way,” he added, hitting him with a shutter.

Cheesy was pretty sure that the hit was intended as an affront,
but, feeling no disposition to quarrel, he held his peace and began
to whistle, to let the fellow know he did n't care. So he stood
staring about him, until he chanced to look in the direction whence
he had come. Instantly his spirits sank, and the notes of his
whistling ceased. He would have fled around the corner, or concealed
himself in the store; but it was too late. Caleb Thorne,
approaching, with his burden and staff, had his eye upon him, and
he could not escape.

“How do ye feel this morning?” asked the boy, with some
embarrassment.

“Look here!” said Caleb, beckoning him mysteriously aside.
“Do you know why I followed you?”

“No,” faltered Cheesy, looking down. Caleb acted so much
like an insane man that he was afraid of him.

“Tell me where your friend is,” said he, in a husky whisper,
seizing his arm.

“Mr. Mer'vale?” suggested Cheesy.

“Yes,” muttered Caleb. “He has taken off my child. He
has stolen her from me.”

“Don't, if you please, Mr. Thorne!” said Cheesy, in some
alarm, trying to loose his hold. “'T an't me that done it. I
don' know where Mr. Mer'vale is. Come, I wish you would n't,
Mr. Thorne; you hurt!”

Caleb released his arm, but insisted that he must know where
Mr. Merrivale had gone.

“I declare I don't!” Cheesy protested. “I only wish I did.
I got lost from him. The old woman give him a letter to her
folks here in Boston, but I can't think of their names. I never
heard but two or three times, and I 'm forever forgitting names
'at I don't care nothing about. She used to call 'em Simeon's
folks, 'most always. Mr. Mer'vale was going there, but I don'
know where they live.”

Caleb's manner changed, and he began to reproach himself
with such fierce and angry passion that Cheesy expected each
moment to see him dash his head against the wall. At length he
became more calm; but, still trembling with his recent agitation,
he begged of Cheesy to go with him and keep him company.

“I can't,” replied Cheesy. “I 'm waiting for my uncle. I
can't git no breakfas' till I see him, and I 'm half-starved.”

“I 'll give you something to eat,” said Caleb. “Don't refuse.
I 'm afraid to be alone. Will you come?”

“I shall git lost agin,” murmured Cheesy, undecided.

“I 'll see to that. I won't take you out of sight of this street.
Go with me a little ways,” insisted Caleb.

Caleb was a sort of nightmare to Cheesy; but how to shake
him off he did not know. Perhaps the poor man's entreaty and

distress prevailed upon him; perhaps he was fascinated by the
insane glitter of his eye; or anticipations of breakfast may have
been the bait which led him astray. But Cheesy himself always
declared that he withdrew with Mr. Thorne because the lad who
took down the shutters had his suspicious squint-eye upon him,
and it made him feel uncomfortable to be watched while in conversation
“with such an odd old codger.”

“Look you,” whispered Caleb, holding fast by Cheesy's arm.
“You must stand by me like a hero till I find my way out of this.
I don't know very well what I 'm about, just now.”

“Don't you?” asked Cheesy, with vacant wonder.

“I shall be all right pretty soon. I 've lost my child and been
robbed, and that 's what confuses me.”

Before leaving the watch-house, Cheesy, inquiring how Caleb
had parted with Martin and Alice, had thrown him into such a
fit of remorseful passion, that he did not like again to allude to
the subject. He ventured, however, to ask what he meant by
saying that he had been robbed.

“I had a little purse of money,” said Caleb. “I was saving it
for my child. I would not use it on the journey, for I knew it
would all be needed here. I humbled myself to beg by the way,
in order to keep that little sum untouched. But it is gone. It
went from me last night. I don't know how; but it is gone.”

Caleb's voice was smothered by a rattling sound in his throat,
which gave Cheesy the impression that he was choking to death.

“Where was you?” asked the boy, at length.

“I don't remember. The scenes of last night are all confused
in my mind. But I know I could not have spent much money.
The change I had in my pocket would have sufficed to pay for all
I drank. I think I took out the purse once, and only once.”

“Perhaps you laid it on the counter, and forgot it,” suggested
Cheesy.

Caleb made no reply, but walked on with quick, nervous steps,
breathing with difficulty, and looking gloomily upon the ground.

“But I will recover from this,” he muttered, at length. “So
help me Heaven, I will be a man again! I will find my child!
With her to work for and protect, I shall atone for the evil I
have done, — if such a thing can ever be.”

“I guess I can't go no fu'ther jes' now,” said Cheesy, in a faint
tone, making a feeble effort to escape from his grasp.

“It 's only a step further,” persisted Caleb. “I saw the place
as I came by. Don't leave me so. I shall be better soon. By
Heaven!” he added, desperately, “I cannot let you go!”

“Now you 're too bad!” whined Cheesy, frightened into compliance.
“I shall go and git lost agin, sure 's the world. Don't,
Mr. Thorne! I don't want ter. Come! what makes ye drag a
feller off in this way, agin his will?”

“I promised you a breakfast, and you shall have it,” rejoined
Caleb, in a more rational tone and manner. “I 'm not going to
hurt you. But, for her sake, if not for my sake, you must keep
by me a few minutes longer. Here 's the place. It was not open
when I came past, but it is open now.”

It was a narrow little shop, with three golden balls hung over
the door. Caleb entered, dragging Cheesy in after him. In the
window of the room, paper money, gold and silver, watches and
other jewelry, were displayed. On the shelves lay quite a variety
of goods, mostly clothing, however, with numerous packages and
bundles, large and small, occupying considerable space near the
window. Over the counter leaned a pleasant, sleek-looking gentleman,
who, picking his teeth, and looking unconcernedly in
Caleb's face, asked what he could do for his visitors.

Caleb took off his pack, and opened it on the counter with
trembling hands.

“Do you wish to shove 'em all up?” inquired the proprietor,
handling the articles with a cool, business air.

Caleb selected a child's dress, a little shawl, a small pair of
shoes, and three or four trifles of less importance, saying that he
would retain those and part with all the rest.

“The rest won't suit my purpose,” observed the pawnbroker,
carelessly. “You 'd better take 'em somewhere else.”

Caleb was agitated. He bent over the articles he had reserved,
folding them together, and spreading them out again, for some
moments, in silence.

“I can redeem them when I please, I suppose,” he said, at
length, in a hollow voice.

The man said, yes, to be sure, and went on to name his terms,
picking his teeth the while, with the same cold air of unconcern.

“Take all the stuff together,” said he, “I can advance you
two dollars on it. It 's a poor bargain at that.”

“I must have the money,” answered Caleb.

The pawnbroker gave him his two dollars and a check for
his property, at the same time asking Cheesy, with a humorous
twinkle of the eye, if he had anything he wished to put up the
spout. The boy started, changed color, felt of himself, as if to
make sure that he was not leaving his shirt behind him, and
hastened to back out of the shop.

“It is a hard thing to leave my child's garments with such a
man,” muttered Caleb, when once more in the street. “But I
shall have them again soon. I will work with these hands. O,
God! forgive me, and help me for her sake!”

Cheesy was now more than ever desirous of escaping from his

friend; but the latter, having fixed his eye upon an oyster-house,
entered, forcing him to go in with him. They took their
places in a stall, and Mr. Thorne gave directions to the waiter.

Cheesy sat staring about him, and munching dry crackers,
while Caleb, resting his head upon his clinched hands, breathed
hard and loud, and shook as if with an ague-chill. There
was a struggle in the poor man's breast of which the boy knew
nothing. Suddenly he started up, and rushed to the bar. Cheesy
saw him point to a row of decanters, and call for some kind
of liquor, in a hoarse whisper; then seize the glass the man in
attendance placed before him, pour out a dram with a shaking
hand, drink it with unseemly eagerness, and strike the tumbler
down upon the counter. Cheesy was taken with a sort of panic.
His face became very pale, whitening visibly through its smeary
disguise. He glanced from Caleb to the door, and from the door
to Caleb, with a wild look, expressive of a total collapse of his
physical courage. For a moment he was undecided; but when
Caleb, calling for oysters, began to swallow them with avidity, as
they were opened and placed before him on the shell, he could
rest no longer in his seat. He got up, and moved tremblingly
by the entrance of the stall, looking hurriedly around him,
until his companion, dashing another dram into the glass, raised
it with a nervous hand to his lips. Such an opportunity for
escape was not to be neglected: Cheesy darted out, ran down the
street and fled into an alley, where he slackened his speed somewhat,
and for the first time ventured to glance behind him, shaking all
the while from head to foot, as if Caleb had been a fiend, who
might at any time mistake him for an oyster, swallow him alive,
and wash him down with rum.