Joe's Luck

THE DETECTED THIEF

“Do you expect to be seasick, Joe?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Folsom.  This is the first time I have ever been at sea.”

“I have crossed the Atlantic twice, and been sick each time.  I suppose I have a tendency that way.”

“How does it feel?” asked Joe curiously.

Folsom laughed.

“It cannot be described,” he answered.

“Then I would rather remain ignorant,” said Joe.

“You are right.  This is a case where ignorance is bliss decidedly.”

Twenty-four hours out Folsom’s anticipations were realized.  He experienced nausea and his head swam.

Returning from a walk on deck, Joe found his guardian lying down in the stateroom.

“Is anything the matter, Mr. Folsom?”

“Nothing but what I expected.  The demon of the sea has me in his gripe.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Nothing at present, Joe.  What art can minister to a stomach diseased?  I must wait patiently, and it will wear off.  Don’t you feel any of the symptoms?”

“Oh, no—­I feel bully,” said Joe.  “I’ve got a capital appetite.”

“I hope you will be spared.  It would be dismal for both of us to be groaning with seasickness.”

“Shall I stay with you?”

“No—­go on deck.  That is the best way to keep well.  My sickness won’t last more than a day or two.”

The young man’s expectations were realized.  After forty-eight hours he recovered from his temporary indisposition and reappeared on deck.

He found that his young companion, had made a number of acquaintances, and had become a general favorite through his frank and pleasant manners.

“I think you’ll get on, Joe,” said he.  “You make friends easily.”

“I try to do it,” said Joe modestly.

“You are fast getting over your country greenness.  Of course you couldn’t help having a share of it, having never lived outside of a small country village.”

“I am glad you think so, Mr. Folsom.  I suppose I was very green and I haven’t got over it yet, but in six months I hope to get rid of it wholly.”

“It won’t take six months at the rate you are advancing.”

Day succeeded day and Joe was not sick at all.  He carried a good appetite to every meal and entered into the pleasures of sea life with zest.  He played shuffle-board on deck, guessed daily the ship’s run, was on the alert for distant sails, and managed in one way or another to while away the time cheerfully.

They had got into the Gulf of Mexico, when, one day, there was an unwonted commotion in the steerage.

A poor German had lost forty dollars, the entire capital he was carrying with him to the new country.

“Some tief has rob me,” he complained, in accents of mingled grief and anger.  “He has rob me of all my gold.  He has not left me one cent.”

“When did you miss the money?” inquired the first officer.

“Just now,” said the poor German.

“When did you see it last?”

“Last night when I went to mine bed.”

“Did you take off your clothes?”

“No.”

“What men sleep near you?”

The German pointed to two.  The first was a German.

“But he would not rob me.  He is mine friend,” he said.  “He is Fritz.”

“Who is the other man?”

The German pointed to Henry Hogan, the same man who had defrauded Joe.

“The man’s a fool,” said Hogan.  “Does he mean to say a gentleman like me would steal his paltry money?”

“He hasn’t said so,” said the first officer quietly.  “He only said that you slept near him.”

“He’d better not accuse me,” blustered Hogan.

The officer was a judge of human nature, and Hogan’s manner and words made him suspect that he was really the guilty party.

“My man,” said he, “you are making a fuss before you are accused.  No charge has been made against you.  The man’s money has been taken, and some one must have taken it.”

“I don’t believe he ever had any,” said Hogan.

“Can you prove that you had the money?” asked the officer, addressing the German.  “Has any one on board seen it in your possession?”

An Irishman named Riley came forward.

“That can I do,” said he.  “It was only yesterday morning that I saw the man counting his money.”

“In what denomination was the money?”

Pat Riley scratched his head.

“Sure I didn’t know that money belonged to any denomination, sir.”

The officer smiled.

“I mean, was it in five, or ten, or twenty dollar pieces.”

“There was four tens, sir—­four gould eagles.”

“Is that right?” inquired the officer, turning to the German.

“Yes, sir, that’s what I had.”

“Then,” said the officer, “it seems clearly proved that our German friend here had the money he claims.  Now, I suggest that the two men he has said occupied bunks nearest to him shall be searched.  But first, if the man who has taken the money will come forward voluntarily and return the same, I will guarantee that he shall receive no punishment.”

He paused for a brief space and looked at Hogan.

Hogan seemed uneasy, but stolid and obstinate.

“Since my offer is not accepted,” said the officer, “let the two men be searched.”

Fritz, the young German, came forward readily.

“I am ready,” he said.

“I am not,” said Hogan.  “I protest against this outrage.  It is an infringement of my rights as an American citizen.  If any one dares to lay hands on me, I will have him arrested as soon as we reach California.”

His threat produced no effect upon the officer.  At a signal two sailors seized him, and, despite his struggles, turned his pockets inside out.

Among the contents were found four gold eagles.

“It is my money!” exclaimed the poor German.

“You lie!  The money is mine!” said Hogan furiously.

“There was a cross, which I scratched with a pin, on one piece,” said the German.  “Look! see if it is there.”

Examination was made, and the scratch was found just as he described it.

“The money evidently belongs to the German,” said the officer.  “Give it to him.”

“You are robbing me of my money,” said Hogan.

“Look here, my friend, you had better be quiet,” said the officer significantly, “or I will have you tied up to keep out of mischief.  You are getting off very well as it is.  I have no doubt you have been up to other dishonest tricks before this one.”

“That is true, sir,” said Joe, speaking up for the first time.  “This is the same man who sold me a bogus ticket, two days before we sailed, for fifty dollars.”

“It’s a lie!” said Hogan.  “I’ll be even with you some time, boy, for that lie of yours.”

“I don’t care for the threats of such a scoundrel as you are,” said Joe undauntedly.

“Look out for him, Joe,” said Folsom.  “He will try to do you a mischief some time.”

He would have been confirmed in his opinion had he observed the glance of hatred with which the detected thief followed his young ward.