Up the Baltic

CHAPTER I.. A Waif on the North Sea.

A WAIF ON THE NORTH SEA.

"Boat on the weather bow, sir!" shouted the lookout on the top-gallant forecastle of the Young America.

"Starboard!" replied Judson, the officer of the deck, as he discovered the boat, which was drifting into the track of the ship.

"Starboard, sir!" responded the quartermaster in charge of the wheel.

"Steady!" added the officer.

"Steady, sir," repeated the quartermaster.

By this time a crowd of young officers and seamen had leaped upon the top-gallant forecastle, and into the weather rigging, to obtain a view of the little boat, which, like a waif on the ocean, was drifting down towards the coast of Norway. It contained only a single person, who was either a dwarf or a boy, for he was small in stature. He lay upon a seat near the stern of the boat, with his feet on the gunwale. He was either asleep or dead, for though the ship had approached within hail, he neither moved nor made any sign. The wind was light from the southward, and the sea was quite calm.

"What do you make of it, Ryder?" called the officer of the deck to the second master, who was on duty forward.

"It is a flat-bottomed boat, half full of water, with a boy in it," answered Ryder.

"Hail him," added the officer of the deck.

"Boat, ahoy!" shouted Ryder, at the top of his lungs.

The person in the boat, boy or man, made no reply. Ryder repeated the hail, but with no better success. The officers and seamen held their breath with interest and excitement, for most of them had already come to the conclusion that the occupant of the boat was dead. A feeling akin to horror crept through the minds of the more timid, as they gazed upon the immovable body in the dilapidated craft; for they felt that they were in the presence of death, and to young people this is always an impressive season. By this time the ship was within a short distance of the water-logged bateau. As the waif on the ocean exhibited no signs of life, the first lieutenant, in charge of the vessel, was in doubt as to what he should do.

Though he knew that it was the first duty of a sailor to assist a human being in distress, he was not sure that the same effort was required in behalf of one who had already ceased to live. Captain Cumberland, in command of the ship, who had been in the cabin when the excitement commenced, now appeared upon the quarter-deck, and relieved the officer of the responsibility of the moment. Judson reported the cause of the unwonted scene on deck, and as the captain discovered the little boat, just on the weather bow, he promptly directed the ship to be hove to.

"Man the main clew-garnets and buntlines!" shouted the first lieutenant; and the hands sprang to their several stations. "Stand by tack and sheet."

"All ready, sir," reported the first midshipman, who was on duty in the waist.

"Let go tack and sheet! Up mainsail!" continued Ryder.

The well-trained crew promptly obeyed the several orders, and the mainsail was hauled up in much less time than it takes to describe the manoeuvre.

"Man the main braces!" proceeded the officer of the deck.

"Ready, sir," reported the first midshipman.

"Let go and haul."

As the hands executed the last order; all the yards on the mainmast swung round towards the wind till the light breeze caught the sails aback, and brought them against the mast. The effect was to deaden the headway of the ship.

"Avast bracing!" shouted the first lieutenant, when the yards on the mainmast were about square.

In a few moments the onward progress of the Young America was entirely checked, and she lay motionless on the sea. There were four other vessels in the squadron, following the flag-ship, and each of them, in its turn, hove to, or came up into the wind.

"Fourth cutters, clear away their boat!" continued the first lieutenant, after he had received his order from the captain. "Mr. Messenger will take charge of the boat."

The young officer indicated was the first midshipman, whose quarter watch was then on duty.

"All the fourth cutters!" piped the boatswain's mate, as Messenger crossed the deck to perform the duty assigned to him.

"He's alive!" shouted a dozen of the idlers on the rail, who had not removed their gaze from the waif in the small boat.

"He isn't dead any more than I am!" added a juvenile tar, springing into the main rigging, as if to demonstrate the amount of his own vitality.

The waif in the bateau had produced this sudden change of sentiment, and given this welcome relief to the crew of the Young America, by rising from his reclining posture, and standing up in the water at the bottom of his frail craft. He gazed with astonishment at the ship and the other vessels of the squadron, and did not seem to realize where he was.

"Avast, fourth cutters!" interposed the first lieutenant. "Belay, all!"

If the waif was not dead, it was hardly necessary to lower a boat to send to his relief; at least not till it appeared that he needed assistance.

"Boat, ahoy!" shouted Ryder.

"On board the ship," replied the waif, in tones not at all sepulchral.

"What are you doing out here?" demanded the first lieutenant.

"Nothing," replied the waif.

"Will you come on board the ship?"

"Yes, if you will let me," added the stranger, as he picked up a broken oar, which was floating in the water on the bottom of his boat.

"Yes, come on board," answered the first lieutenant, prompted by Captain Cumberland, who was quite as much interested in the adventure as any of his shipmates.

The waif, using the broken oar as a paddle, worked his water-logged craft slowly towards the ship. The accommodation ladder was lowered for his use, and in a few moments, with rather a heavy movement, as though he was lame, or much exhausted, he climbed up the ladder, and stepped down upon the ship deck.

"Fill away again!" said the captain to the first lieutenant, as a curious crowd began to gather around the stranger. Ryder gave the necessary orders to brace up the main yards, and set the mainsail again, and the ship was soon moving on her course towards the Naze of Norway, as though nothing had occurred to interrupt her voyage.

"What are you doing out here, in an open boat, out of sight of land?" asked Captain Cumberland, while the watch on deck were bracing up the yards.

The waif looked at the commander of the Young America, and carefully examined him from head to foot. The elegant uniform of the captain seemed to produce a strong impression upon his mind, and he evidently regarded him as a person of no small consequence. He did not answer the question put to him, seeming to be in doubt whether it was safe and proper for him to do so. Captain Cumberland was an exceedingly comely-looking young gentleman, tall and well formed in person, graceful and dignified in his manners; and if he had been fifty years old, the stranger before him could not have been more awed and impressed by his bearing. So far as his personal appearance was concerned, the waif appeared to have escaped from the rag-bag, and to have been out long enough to soil his tatters with oil, tar, pitch, and dirt. Though his face and hands, as well as other parts of his body, were very dirty, his eye was bright, and, even seen through the disguise of filth and rags that covered him, he was rather prepossessing.

"What is your name?" asked Captain Cumberland, finding his first question was not likely to be answered.

"Ole Amundsen," replied the stranger, pronouncing his first name in two syllables.

"Then you are not English."

"No, sir. Be you?"

"I am not; we are all Americans in this ship."

"Americans!" exclaimed Ole, opening his eyes, while a smile beamed through the dirt on his face. "Are you going to America now?"

"No; we are going up the Baltic now," replied Captain Cumberland; "but we shall return to America in the course of a year or two."

"Take me to America with you--will you?" continued Ole, earnestly. "I am a sailor, and I will work for you all the time."

"I don't know about that. You must speak to the principal."

"Who's he?"

"Mr. Lowington. He is in the cabin now. Where do you belong, Ole?"

"I don't belong anywhere," answered the waif, looking doubtfully about him.

"Where were you born?"

"In Norway, sir."

"Then you are a Norwegian."

"I reckon I am."

"In what part of Norway were you born?"

"In Bratsberg."

"That's where all the brats come from," suggested Sheridan.

"This one came from there, at any rate," added Mayley. "But where is Bratsberg, and what is it?"

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