"My gracious, we've sailed!"

The words came with a groan from Nelson. They were no longer at the dock in New York, but on the sea. What was to be done next?

"They are not going to carry me off!" he told himself, and rushed aft.

"Hullo! so you've got around again," sang out Captain Grabon, on catching sight of him.

"Yes, I've got around, and I want to know what this means."

"What what means, lad?"

"Why did you carry me off?"

"You carried yourself off. I told you we were about to sail. You had no business to come on board."

"I want to go ashore."

To this the captain made no answer.

"Where is Darnley?" went on our hero, and began to look around. Soon he espied the bully helping some sailors trim one of the sheets.

"Here, you stay where you are," cried Captain Grabon, as Nelson started forward, and he caught our hero by the arm. "We are on the sea now, and I am master here, and I don't propose to allow you to interfere with any of my men."

"I told you I want to go ashore," insisted Nelson.

"Well, I'm not going to stop my vessel for every monkey like you who gets himself in a pickle. You can go ashore—when we make a landing, not before."

"When will that be?"

"Keep your eyes open, and you'll soon find out."

The captain of the Victory turned away, leaving Nelson much nonplused. To tell the truth, our hero's head ached so hard he could think of little else. He walked over to a pile of rope and sat down.

"I hope they land soon," he thought dismally. "I don't want to get too far from home. I wonder what George Van Pelt thinks of my absence?"

An hour slipped by, and soon the Victory was well on her way down the bay and heading outside of Sandy Hook. The air was cool and bracing, and under any other conditions the newsboy would have enjoyed the sail very much.

But by noon he began to grow alarmed again. Instead of putting in, the ship was standing still further from shore.

"See here, this doesn't look as if you were going to land soon," he said to one of the sailors who happened to pass him.

"Land soon?" repeated the tar. "That we won't, lad."

"Well, when will we land?"

"Not afore we get to the West Indies, I reckon."

"The West Indies!" And Nelson leaped up as if shot. "You don't mean it."

"All right; ask the cap'n." And the sailor sauntered off.

The captain had gone to the cabin, and thither Nelson made his way without ceremony.

"You told me you were going to land soon?" he cried.

"No, I didn't tell you anything of the kind," answered Captain Grabon, with a leer. "I told you to keep your eyes open, and you'd soon find out what we were going to do."

"I was told you wouldn't land until you reached the West Indies."

"That's right too."

"I don't intend to go with you to the West Indies."

"All right, lad; as you please."

"You have no right to carry me off like this."

"As I said before, you carried yourself off. You came aboard my vessel without my permission, and you engaged in a row with one of my hands. Now you must suffer the consequences."

"Then you intend to take me to the West Indies with you?"

"I will, lad; but you must work your passage, as soon as you're over being knocked out."

"It's a shame!" cried Nelson indignantly. "I shan't submit."

"You can do nothing. You are on my ship, and I am master here. If you have any row to settle with Darnley, you can settle it when we land. I've told him, and now I tell you again, I won't have any more quarreling on board."

"You are not fair," pleaded our hero, half desperately.

"I know what I'm doing. Now get back to the fo'castle with you, and remember, to-morrow you take your place with the crew." And so speaking, Captain Grabon waved the lad away.

Nelson returned to the deck with a heavy heart. Had the shore been within a reasonable distance he would have leaped overboard and risked swimming, but land was far away, a mere speck on the western horizon.

At noon Nelson messed with the crew, and feeling hungry he ate his full share of the food, which was not as bad as might be supposed. He was not allowed to go near Darnley, and the bully was wise enough to keep his distance.

Slowly the afternoon wore along. The breeze remained good, and having passed Sandy Hook, the Victory stood straight down the New Jersey coast.

"Might as well learn the ropes, sooner or later," said one of the sailors to Nelson, as he lounged up.

"I don't want to learn," was the ready answer. "I wasn't cut out for a sailor. City life is good enough for me."

"And I can't stand shore life at all. Queer, aint it? The minit I'm ashore I'm in trouble and wanting to go to sea again."

"What kind of a man is this Captain Grabon?"

"Hard to please, lad. You'll have your hands full with him. Better learn your duty at once, and save trouble."

"I shall not do a hand's turn on this ship."

"Didn't you sign articles with him?"

"I did not. But that other young fellow did."

"But how came you here?"

"I followed that other fellow on board. He's a thief, and I was after him."

"Did he rob you?"

"He did. I wanted to hand him over to the police when we were on the dock, but Captain Grabon interfered. I suppose he didn't want to lose the hand."

"That's the truth—we are short, as it is. Well, now you are on board, what do you intend to do?"

"I don't know." Nelson looked the sailor straight in the eyes. "Can I trust you?"

"You can, my lad. If it's as you say, I'm sorry for you."

"If you'll help me to escape I'll give you all the money I have in my pockets—two dollars and a half."

"How can I help you?"

"Didn't I see you steering a short time ago?"

"You did."

"When will you steer again?"

"In a couple of hours."

"Then, if you get the chance, steer close to some other boat, will you? I mean some small craft that belongs along this shore."

"And if I do, what then?"

"I'll jump overboard and trust to luck to have the other boat pick me up," explained Nelson.

The two talked the plan over, and at last the sailor agreed for the two dollars to do as our hero desired—providing the opportunity arose. He insisted upon Nelson keeping the remaining fifty cents.

"I won't clean you out, lad," he said. "And I sincerely trust all goes well with you." And they shook hands.

The sailor took his next trick at the wheel at six o'clock, and half an hour later a sloop hove in sight, far to the southwestward. He nodded to Nelson, but said nothing. Most of the sailors were below, and Captain Grabon had also disappeared.

"Go on to supper," said the mate of the vessel to our hero, and turned away to inspect something forward.

"What shall I do?" whispered Nelson to the man at the wheel.

"Get your grub, lad," replied the sailor. "When we're close to that craft I'll begin to whistle 'Annie Laurie.'"

"All right; I'll listen with all ears," responded our hero.

He was soon at the mess, and eating as though nothing out of the ordinary was on his mind. But his ears were on the alert, and no sooner had the first bars of the sailor's whistle risen on the evening air than he pushed back his seat.

"I've had all I want," he muttered, for the other sailors' benefit.

"Getting seasick, I reckon," said an old tar, and laughed. Billy Darnley was already sick, and lay on a bunk, as white as a sheet and groaning dismally.

Soon Nelson had picked his way to the stern, being careful to keep out of sight of the mate. The Victory was now close to the sloop, and presently glided by the smaller craft.

"Thanks! Good-by!" called Nelson, to the man at the wheel, and in another moment he had dropped into the ocean and was swimming toward the sloop with all the strength at his command.