By the Great Horn Spoon!: Chapters 1–2

Hundreds of gold-seekers had been left at the dock clamoring for passage.

The California fever was sweeping through the cities and towns and villages like a heady wind.

He felt very nearly frozen solid, but permitted himself a most contented smile.

“Is that you, Praiseworthy?” came a young, muffled voice from the depths of the barrel.
“Your obedient servant,” the man replied and lifted the lid.

There rose from this barrel a school boy of twelve. He had been sucking a raw potato to slake his thirst.

Jack gazed at the dark cargo shapes piled high around them and listened to the scrape of the sea along the wooden hull.

“Go?” Jack replied. “Go where?” He fully expected to pass the voyage below decks with the cargo. He had read dire accounts of the treatment handed out to stowaways on ships of the sea.

The ship gave a lurch and the stowaways, gathering up their two carpetbags, picked their way through the darkened passages of the hold.

Jack saw men of every description and some who defied description.

The man lifted his sword cane and pointed. “Up there, up there,” he snapped, and returned to the fray.

The door banged shut and Jack, now wide-eyed, stared at the ship’s master as if he were a stout devil in brass buttons and frozen whiskers.

“Do you know what the Sea Raven carries in her cargo holds!” Captain Swain bellowed. “Miners’ boots and flannel shirts and mosquito netting. Mosquito netting! She’s so light in the water her keel is hardly damp!”

“If I may make an observation,” said Praiseworthy.
“You are obviously too civilized for such pirate tricks.” “Bah!”

“It was not our intention to defraud the shipping company. The moment there was posted notice of the Lady Wilma's departure for California, Master Jack and I were in line to buy a ticket. But in the push and clamor some clever cutpurse helped himself to our passage money, leaving us penniless. No doubt he bought a ticket for himself and is aboard this very ship, sir.”

“An unlikely story,” Praiseworthy said, “but true. Naturally, we had no choice but to become stowaways. And if I may add—it is imperative, sir, that Master Jack reach the gold fields and make his fortune. Without delay.”

“Bah! This California fever is spreading like a plague! New England will be left half empty in another six months, by grabs! Anything with a keel is calling itself a gold ship and putting to sea—scows with rotten bottoms, fishing trawlers, whaling ships! Argonauts of old, they are, chasing after the golden fleece. Every man-jack thinks he will make his fortune. Bah!”

Instead of informing Aunt Arabella, for she would never consent to such a venture, Praiseworthy kept Jack’s secret—and more.

“Blast!” said the captain, standing at a porthole.

“There’s nothing a butler cannot do. I open doors. I close doors. I announce that dinner is served. I supervise the staff and captain the household—much as you do this ship, sir. A most exacting job, if I may say so.”

“Don’t pay any attention to Master Jack,” said Praiseworthy quickly. “The boy is light-headed from sheer hunger. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday and he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

By this time the captain had recovered his voice and a smile lurked in his eye. “By grabs, here’s a lad with stuffings. He doesn’t want an easy berth. Wants a man’s job. All right, to the coal bunkers, both of you.”

After many days, like a dog after a rain, the Lady Wilma shook winter from her masts and riggings. She entered the southern latitudes.

The sun came out bright and fresh as if newly forged, and the nights were speckled over with stars.

“This infernal firebox,” Praiseworthy said, wiping the sweat from his face. “We must think of a plan. We must expose the rogue who light-fingered our passage money.”

“This infernal firebox,” Praiseworthy said, wiping the sweat from his face. “We must think of a plan. We must expose the rogue who light-fingered our passage money.”

The truth of the matter was that neither Jack nor the butler had the slightest idea how to go about catching a thief. But Praiseworthy was undaunted.

Meanwhile, they fed the flames, strengthened their backs, toughened their hands and slept on deck under a balmy sky.

I will leave this letter unfinished and take up my pen again as adventures befall us.

And Praiseworthy answered, “You may recall that Master Jack and I suffered a slight misfortune at the very outset of this voyage. Some blasted—er, that is to say—some despicable thief made off with our funds. Master Jack here has hit upon a scheme to expose the rascal.”

They joked and joshed, glad for something to do, for they were not used to the idleness of life at sea.

“This cut-purse has already struck, gentlemen. He lifted the savings of Mr. Praiseworthy and his young partner. You’ve seen them working off their passage at the coal bunkers. The thief may strike again. Any one of you may be his next victim. He may be standing at your elbow. I’ll now turn the meeting over to the aforementioned persons, who have a plan to capture the scoundrel.”

At that signal, Jack led the big black hog to the center of the saloon and tied her to a post. The men began to exchange baffled glances. What had a large sow to do with catching a thief?

One by one the gold-seekers approached and ran a finger along the sow’s back. A minute passed. Two. Not a sound from the hog. The passengers scuffed across the deck in their boots, touched the hog and retired.

Almost at once there was an outcry from one corner of the saloon. “We got him!”

“It’s the judge!”
“Judge, my eye! He’s an imposter!”