Facing the World by Jr. Horatio Alger (rainbow fish read aloud .TXT) 📕
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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Do I speak to Mr. Harry Vane, the young vocalist?” asked the stranger, with a deferential smile.
“That’s my name,” answered our hero.
“You are alone?”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, a little puzzled.
“It is well. I will come to business at once. You have probably heard of me, eh?”
“Probably I have, but I do not remember names well.”
“The name of Mendelssohn Brown, is pretty well known, I flatter myself,” said the visitor, complacently. “To be brief—I heard you sing last evening, and was much pleased with your rendition of the various selections.”
Harry bowed.
“I am about to form a juvenile Pinafore company, and would like to have you take the leading part. You would make an excellent Admiral. I propose to take my opera company all over the United States. I should be willing to pay you, as the star performer, twenty-five dollars a week.”
Harry opened his eyes in amazement.
“Do you think me capable of singing in opera?” he asked.
“Yes, after being trained by your humble servant. What do you say?”
“I thank you for your flattering offer, Dr. Brown, but I don’t feel at liberty to leave Professor Hemenway.”
The doctor frowned.
“Let me tell you, you stand in your own light, Mr. Vane,” he said, impatiently. “There is some difference between a common juggler, like the Magician of Madagascar,”—the doctor laughed ironically—“and a well-known musical director, who could make you famous. Does Hemenway pay you as much as I offer?”
“No, sir.”
“I thought so. Then how can you hesitate?”
“We are about to make an Australian tour,” answered Harry, “and, apart from all other considerations, I am glad to have a chance to travel.”
“Couldn’t you put it off?”
“No, sir.”
“Then,” said Dr. Brown, rather crestfallen, “I can only bid you good-morning. I think you are making a mistake.”
“Perhaps, after I return from Australia, I might be ready to accept your offer.”
“It will be too late,” said the doctor, gloomily.
“Twenty-five dollars a week is large pay,” thought Harry, “but I don’t believe I should ever get it. Dr. Brown doesn’t look much like a capitalist.”
Half an hour later Professor Hemenway entered the hotel.
“Well, my boy,” he said, “the die is cast! Next Saturday we sail from Long Wharf, bound for Australia.”
“But professor, I have just had an offer of twenty-five dollars a week to sing in Pinafore.”
“And have accepted!” exclaimed the magician in dismay.
“No; I respectfully declined. I would rather go with you.”
“You shan’t regret it, Harry!” said the professor, relieved. “If I am prosperous, you shall share in my prosperity.”
“Thank you, professor; I am sure of that. What is the name of our vessel?”
“The Nantucket. It’s a good, solid-looking craft, and I think it will bear us in safety to our destination.”
CHAPTER IX THE PASSENGERS
The Nantucket, Capt. Jabez Hill, master, was a large vessel, stanch and strong, and bore a good record, having been in service six years, and never having in that time met a serious disaster. It was a sailing vessel, and primarily intended to convey freight, but had accommodations for six passengers. Of these it had a full complement. Harry and the professor I name first, as those in whom we are most interested.
Next came John Appleton, a business man from Melbourne, who had visited the United States on business. He was a plain, substantial-looking person, of perhaps forty-five. Next came Montgomery Clinton, from Brooklyn, a young man of twenty-four, foolishly attired, who wore an eyeglass and anxiously aped the Londen swell, though born within sight of Boston State house. Harry regarded him with considerable amusement, and though he treated him with outward respect, mentally voted him very soft. Fifth on the list was a tall, sallow, thin individual, with a melancholy countenance, who was troubled with numerous symptoms, and was persuaded that he had not long to live. He was from Pennsylvania. He carried with him in his trunk a large assortment of pills and liquid medicines, one or another of which he took about once an hour. This gentleman’s name was Marmaduke Timmins. Last came a tall, lean Yankee, the discoverer and proprietor of a valuable invention, which it was his purpose to introduce into Australia. Mr. Jonathan Stubbs, for this was his name, was by no means an undesirable addition to the little circle, and often excited a smile by his quaintly put and shrewd observations on topics of passing interest.
It was the third day at sea, when Harry, who had suffered but little from seasickness, came on deck, after a good dinner, and saw the dudish passenger, till now invisible, holding himself steady with an effort, and gazing sadly out upon the wild waste of waters without the help of his eyeglass.
“How do you feel, Mr. Clinton?” asked Harry.
“Horribly, Mr. Vane,” answered Clinton, with a languid shudder. “I never thought it was such a bore, crossing the ocean, don’t you know. I’ve a great idea of offering the captain a handsome sum to land somewhere, I don’t care where.”
“I don’t think we shall go near any land, Mr. Clinton. I think you will have to make the best of it.”
Hearing a step behind him, Harry turned, and his eyes rested on the melancholy countenance of Marmaduke Timmins, the chronic invalid.
“Good-morning, Mr. Timmins,” said our hero. “I hope you stand the voyage well?”
“I’ve had several new symptoms since I came on board,” responded Mr. Timmins, gloomily, “and I’ve made a dreadful discovery.”
“What is it?” inquired Montgomery Clinton, in alarm.
“I find I’ve mislaid or forgotten to bring my box of Remedial pills. I don’t know what I shall do without them.”
“I’ve got a box of Brandeth’s pills downstairs,” said Clinton. “You’re welcome to a part of them, I’m sure.”
“They wouldn’t do! What can you be thinking of, young man? Do you think there’s no difference between pills?”
“I’m sure I can’t tell,
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