Originally published: 1886
Genres: Children's, Adventure
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63549
Chapters: 41
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
THE GOLDEN MOOSE
Chip! chip!
All day long that same monotonous sound, chip, chip—chip, chip, had echoed through Solomon Bertram’s workroom.
He called himself a ship carpenter, and he was one, for no member of that craft ever did finer work than that he was now engaged in. Before him, upon the bench, fast assuming artistic proportions, was what had been a rough block of wood, what was now very nearly a carved animal’s head.
The old man’s eyes filled with tears and his thin hand trembled more than once as he viewed the few tools at his command, and ever and anon glanced past the half-open door which led into the living rooms of the humble cottage he called home.
For at the present moment grim poverty and want hovered over that threshold, and his brave heart which had never faltered before, became sad and oppressed.
From the window, he could see the quaint Maine town and the shipping in the harbor. Here in Watertown he had lived, man and boy, for nearly half a century, had brought up a happy family, and had accumulated almost a fortune.
Within two years that family had been sadly bereaved, the fortune cut down to a pittance, and one trouble succeeding another rapidly, had made Solomon Bertram a prematurely old man.
Chip, chip!
The mallet and chisel moved less deftly now, for the hand that wielded them was fast growing weary, and the task was almost completed.
There was a sudden interruption that made the work cease entirely. Followed by the smart, quick tramp of hurrying footsteps on the walk outside, a boisterous form dashed through the house and the work-room door, and a bright, boyish face intruded itself upon the carpenter’s solitude.
“Is the ship’s head done, Father?” its possessor asked eagerly, with a glance at the workbench.
“Almost, Will. Where have you been, and what does that mean?”
The boy’s eyes danced with delight and his face flushed excitedly as he laid several small silver coins on the bench.
“It means money, Father,” he cried; “it means that I heard you tell Mother this morning that there was not enough in the house to buy a pound of flour, and I made up my mind to earn some. Look, Father, nearly four shillings!”
The old man’s eyes were suffused with tears as the boy rattled on volubly, and something choked in his voice as he sought to murmur, “My brave boy!”
“You know I’m old enough to begin work, Father, and I know it too. There is not much chance for employment in the town, though, unless it’s among the shipping, and you won’t hear of my going to sea.”
“No, no!”
“Not even when the old tars say I’m a natural sailor and nimble as a monkey among the rigging?”
“Not even then, Will. The sea cost me one brave son. I can’t spare the other.”
“Well, I remembered that and went among the shops. No work anywhere. Finally, I came to the new building they are putting up on the public square, and there I met my luck, as the boys say.”
“How, Will?” inquired the interested Mr. Bertram.
“They were just putting on the spire to the tower, and, ready to arrange the tackle and climb the ropes, was the steeple Jack.”
“What’s a steeple Jack?” inquired the mystified old man.
“He’s a professional climber who makes a business of going up to high places like steeples and towers. They had sent to Portland for him. He wanted one of the workmen to help him by going to the top of the tower, but they said it was too risky, and they were more used to platforms than ropes. Well, to make a long story short, I offered my services.”
“Oh, Will, always venturesome and running into danger!” spoke a reproachful voice.
Will turned and surveyed his mother, who had come unobserved to the door, with a quizzical smile.
“Now, don’t scold, Mother,” he said. “I’m at home among the ropes, as the man soon found. I was on the tower before he was halfway up, and when he had set the vane on the tower, two hours later, he told me he wished he had me for an apprentice. Anyway, I earned a little money, and there it is. Tomorrow I’ll start in for more, and then you’ll receive pay for the ship’s head, Father, and we’ll get along famously.”
Old Solomon Bertram shook his head sadly.
“I shall get no pay for that work, Will,” he said.
“No pay, when you’ve put a week’s time on it! Why, what do you mean, Father?”
Mr. Bertram looked anxiously at his wife as if silently questioning her. She nodded intelligently and withdrew.
“Sit down near me, Will,” said Mr. Bertram, seriously. “I promised to have the figurehead done today, so I will have to work while I talk. You’re a good boy, Will; a dutiful son and a help and comfort to your old parents, and I don’t feel like clouding your life with our troubles.”
“Don’t worry about that, Father,” cried Will, eagerly. “If there are any clouds we’ll drive them away.”
Mr. Bertram smiled at Will’s boyish enthusiasm and said:
“Well, up to two years ago, when your brother Alan sailed away for the far north on a whaling voyage, we were happy and comfortable. I owned the house and lot here and another piece of property, besides having two thousand dollars in the bank. I put together and purchased a share in the Albatross. That was the ship poor Alan was captain of.”
“Yes, I remember,” assented Will murmuringly.
“If the whaling voyage proved a success I should have made enough to buy Alan a ship of his own. Alas, my son, the staunch old Albatross, and its brave captain never came back to Watertown again!”
Mr. Bertram stopped his work to wipe away a tear that trickled down his furrowed cheek.
“But one year afterward,” he finally resumed, “the mate of the doomed ship returned—Stephen Morris. He told a thrilling tale of adventure. The Albatross, he said, had gone far north beyond the icebergs, but had met its fate among the glaciers, and all on board had been crushed in an ice floe but himself.”
“Do you believe him, Father?” asked Will, a look of dislike on his face at the mention of Morris’ name.
“He surely would have no object in spreading a wholesale falsehood. No, no, his story seemed true. He said that he saw the ship and men ground under a mighty wall of ice and that he miraculously escaped by being on the ice floe away from the ship when the catastrophe occurred. For months he froze and starved amid horrible solitude, and one day was discovered and rescued by a whaler. He landed at Boston, but came here at once and told the story of his adventures.”
“And he has been here since, hasn’t he, Father?”
“Yes, Will, and that is the strange part of it. Stephen Morris went away a poor man. He came back a comparatively rich one. He claimed that a relative had died leaving him heir to a large fortune. Be that as it may, from mate he rose to captain and ship owner. He has an interest in several coasters and is the sole proprietor of the ocean ship the Golden Moose. It’s for that ship I’m making this figurehead,” and Mr. Bertram resumed work on the same, while Will sat for some moments deeply absorbed in thought.
He had never liked the coarse, rough man his father had named, and despite himself, he seemed to trace some dark mystery in his solitary rescue and the possession of sudden wealth.
“Is that all, Father?” he asked after a pause.
“No, for in addition to Stephen Morris’ other possessions, he seems to have also purchased a mortgage on this house and lot, representing some of the money I borrowed to buy the Albatross. He has been very hard with me about it, for I have had to scrape and save to pay the interest regularly, and this figurehead just makes out the amount to pay him this six months’ interest.”
“And I’ll be ready to pay the next,” cried Will, staunchly. “Father, I’m glad you told me just how we stand. I’m going to be a man and help you, and I’m going to find out just where Stephen Morris got all his money, for I have a suspicion that he is hiding the entire truth. You know how people dislike him. Suppose my brother Alan and the crew never perished at all?”
“No, no, Will,” cried his father, suspensefully, “don’t awaken my hopes only to be plunged in despair again. No man would be so cruel as to deceive a parent like that. Stephen Morris is hard-hearted and rough in his ways, but he would not dare to return with a false story about the Albatross. You are to take this figurehead to Captain Morris. It is to take the place of the moose head that was broken in the last storm.”
“All right, Father,” said Will, cheerily, but he kept thinking of the strange story he had heard.
“Tell Captain Morris to have it gilded at Portland when he goes there. It can’t be done, you know, in Watertown. There, it’s done at last!”
The old man drew back and surveyed his handiwork with some little pride as he gave it a last finishing touch with a chisel.
Then he smoothed off the rough edges and lifted it into Will’s arms.
It was quite a bulky object, but Will professed to be able without difficulty to convey it to its destination.
He carried it carefully by the doorway so as not to injure the broad-spreading antlers and walked down the street in the direction of the harbor.
His young mind was busy forming plans of how he should best secure work and rescue his parents from the poverty that threatened them.
“I will put school days and play days aside,” he said, resolutely, “and begin life in earnest.”
Mark him well, reader, this boy with an honest face and manly bearing and noble determination to win his way in the world, for ere this story ends he is destined to meet with many strange and varied adventures.
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