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STARRY FLAG SERIES

OLIVER OPTIC

[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE CARIBBEE.--Page 273.]




FREAKS OF FORTUNE;

OR,

HALF ROUND THE WORLD.



BY

OLIVER OPTIC,

AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,"
"THE RIVERDALE STORIES," ETC.



BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
of the District of Massachusetts.

COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
All rights reserved.

FREAKS OF FORTUNE.




TO

MY YOUNG FRIEND,

_THOMAS POWELL, JR._

This Book

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.




PREFACE.


"FREAKS OF FORTUNE" is the fourth of the serial stories published in
"OUR BOYS AND GIRLS." It was written in response to a great number of
calls for a sequel to "THE STARRY FLAG." The author was pleased to
learn that Levi Fairfield had made so pleasant an impression upon his
young friends, and the gratifying reception extended to him in the
present story, as it appeared in the Magazine, was quite as flattering
to the writer as to Levi himself. When a good boy, like the hero of
"The Starry Flag," is regarded with so much kindly interest by our boys
and girls, it is convincing evidence that they have the capacity to
appreciate noble conduct, daring deeds, and a true life.

The author is not disposed to apologize for the "exciting" element--as
some have been pleased to denominate it--of this and others of his
stories. If goodness and truth have been cast down, if vice and sin
have been raised up, in the story, an explanation would not, and ought
not to, atone for the crime. The writer degrades no saints, he
canonizes no villains. He believes that his young friends admire and
love the youthful heroes of the story because they are good and true,
because they are noble and self-sacrificing, and because they are
generous and courageous, and not merely because they engage in stirring
adventures. Exciting the youthful mind in the right direction is one
thing; exciting it in the wrong direction is quite another thing.

Once more it becomes the writer's pleasant duty to acknowledge the
kindness of his young friends, as well as of very many parents and
guardians, who have so often and so freely expressed their approbation
of his efforts to please his readers. He has been continually cheered
by their kind letters, and by their constant favor, however manifested;
and he cannot help wondering that one who deserves so little should
receive so much.

                                   WILLIAM T. ADAMS.

HARRISON SQUARE, MASS.,

July 27, 1868.




CONTENTS.


                                                 PAGE

CHAPTER I.
    THREE YEARS AFTER.                             11

CHAPTER II.
    FIRE.                                          21

CHAPTER III.
    THE HOLE IN THE WALL.                          31

CHAPTER IV.
    THE PLANK OVER THE CHASM.                      42

CHAPTER V.
    AN INDUCTIVE ARGUMENT.                         53

CHAPTER VI.
    THE STARRY FLAG.                               64

CHAPTER VII.
    GRAVE CHARGES.                                 75

CHAPTER VIII.
    CONSTABLE COOKE.                               86

CHAPTER IX.
    THE EXAMINATION.                               97

CHAPTER X.
    MR. C. AUGUSTUS EBENIER.                      108

CHAPTER XI.
    THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION.                119

CHAPTER XII.
    HOTEL DE POISSON.                             130

CHAPTER XIII.
    "OFT FROM APPARENT ILLS."                     141

CHAPTER XIV.
    "LOSE HIS OWN SOUL."                          151

CHAPTER XV.
    ANOTHER LITTLE PLAN.                          161

CHAPTER XVI.
    PISTOLS FOR TWO.                              173

CHAPTER XVII.
    THE GOLD RESTORED.                            184

CHAPTER XVIII.
    MAT MOGMORE.                                  195

CHAPTER XIX.
    THE CARIBBEE.                                 207

CHAPTER XX.
    DOCK VINCENT'S LETTER.                        219

CHAPTER XXI.
    THE CARIBBEE SAILS FOR AUSTRALIA.             230

CHAPTER XXII.
    THE TRAVELLER WHO LOST HIS WAY.               241

CHAPTER XXIII.
    OFF SANDY HOOK.                               253

CHAPTER XXIV.
    HALF ROUND THE WORLD.                         264

CHAPTER XXV.
    A HAPPY REUNION.                              275

CHAPTER XXVI.
    CONCLUSION.                                   287




FREAKS OF FORTUNE;

OR,

HALF ROUND THE WORLD.




CHAPTER I.

THREE YEARS AFTER.


"This is the spot, Bessie," said Levi Fairfield, as he paused on the
bank of the brook which flows into the bay near Mike's Point.

"But what was the thing you made?" asked Bessie Watson, as she looked
with interest at the place indicated, though she could not see anything
very remarkable, or even strange.

"It was a young saw-mill," laughed Levi. "It rested on those flat
stones you see there; but the dam is entirely washed away. I made it in
Mr. Mogmore's carpenter's shop, near uncle Nathan's house. After a deal
of fussing and tinkering, I got it so that it sawed through a board two
feet long from one end to the other. It was the proudest day of my life
when I showed Mr. Mogmore the two parts, separated by my machine; and
he declared I should make a good machinist."

"Where is the saw-mill now?" inquired Bessie, interested in the machine
because it had been made by Levi, rather than because she had a taste
for mechanics.

"It is up in the attic of uncle Nathan's house; at least it was there
three years ago, when I went to live with Mr. Gayles."

"I should really like to see it."

"Should you? Well, you shall, if the thing is still in being. I will go
down to uncle Nathan's and get it, and then I will set it up, and you
shall see it go," answered Levi, as he led the way towards the house of
his uncle.

The water privilege which Levi Fairfield, as a boy of thirteen, had
improved, was located on the brook behind the cottage of Mr. Mogmore.
Bessie did not care to meet uncle Nathan; so she decided to call upon
the carpenter's family; for, having spent three seasons at Rockport,
she was well acquainted in several families near her father's new
house, which was on the shore, not far from Mike's Point.

Bessie--or, as we ought to call her now, Miss Watson, though it does
not sound half so pleasant to the ear, and Levi had been several times
reproved for addressing her in this formal manner--Miss Watson was
"sweet sixteen," or so near it that we give her the full benefit of the
majority fraction. If she was pretty at twelve, she was beautiful at
sixteen. She was rather tall for her age, but exceedingly well formed.
She had spent much of her time in the open air, and on her cheeks
glowed the roses of health.

Mrs. McGilvery, a widowed sister of Mr. Watson, who had been the
principal of a young ladies' seminary before her marriage, was
intrusted with the care of her niece's education. Though Bessie
attended school while in the city, yet she was absent four months in
the year, during three of which she studied with her governess, on the
sea-shore. Fortunately for Bessie, Mrs. McGilvery was an amphibious
lady, and was always ready for a trip in The Starry Flag, Levi
Fairfield's well-tried craft. She had a taste for yachts, not only in
pleasant weather, and on a smooth sea, but when the wind blew anything
short of a gale, and the white caps whipped over the gunwale of the
boat. Bessie, therefore, was frequently on the salt water with her
_duenna_, and her constitution had been wonderfully strengthened by
this healthful exercise.

Levi Fairfield and The Starry Flag were in demand almost every day; and
we need not add that the young skipper did not regard himself as a
martyr in the cause. Though the excursions to Halibut Point,
Straitsmouth, the Selvages, and other places in the vicinity, were
frequently repeated, he was never happier than when at the helm with
Bessie and Mrs. McGilvery on board; not particularly on account of the
latter, though he was quite a favorite with her.

Levi left Miss Watson at the door of Mr. Mogmore's cottage, and walked
over to uncle Nathan's house. Three years had not improved the
appearance of the miser's house, for he spent no money upon it in paint
and repairs. When anything about the building caved in, as it
frequently did, he tinkered it himself. If time had not improved uncle
Nathan or his house, it had improved Levi. He was nearly eighteen, was
"man grown," strong as a lion, and agile as a deer. Within the
preceding three years he had made two fishing trips, though most of his
time had been spent at the academy.

He entered his uncle's house. Though his visits, like angels', had been
few and far between, they were not so because Levi cherished any ill
will towards his former guardian, but because he had been made to feel
that he was not a welcome guest. Uncle Nathan never felt right after
his removal from the position of guardian of his nephew. The care of
the money was taken from him, and he was deprived of the profits he
derived from boarding and clothing his ward. He realized that money had
been taken out of his pocket by the spirited conduct of Levi; and
taking money out of the miser's pocket was the sorest injury that could
be inflicted upon him.

But Levi behaved like a Christian. He did not forget that his uncle and
aunt lived in that old and dilapidated house, and he did his best to
keep the peace with them. In the most literal manner he returned good
for evil. It is true he could not respect his uncle, or get up a very
warm regard for him,--he was too mean, selfish, and unprincipled to win
the respect and regard of any decent person,--but he could treat him
with Christian kindness.

Mr. Gayles, since he had been Levi's guardian, had, by the advice of
Mr. Watson, given his ward a regular allowance of five dollars a week
for pocket money, independent of his actual expenses for clothing
himself. This money was spent in books, in improvements on The Starry
Flag, in charity, and for other proper purposes. Not a cent of it ever
went to the keeper of a grog-shop, billiard-saloon, or other place
which a young man should avoid; but not a little of it, in one way and
another, found its way into the comfortless abode of uncle Nathan.

Though his aunt, by the force of circumstances, had become almost as
mean as her husband, she was not a bad woman in other respects, and
Levi had considerable regard for her. She had but few joys in this
world, and one of them was reading the newspaper, when she was so
fortunate as to procure one, which was but seldom. Levi subscribed for
the Boston Journal for her, which came every day, and for a weekly
religious newspaper. The old lady had a splendid time every afternoon
reading her paper, and enjoyed a "rich season" every "Sabba' day" over
her Sunday paper.

Levi did more than this. He not only carried to the house a great many
fish he caught himself, but a leg of veal or lamb, a roasting-piece of
beef, a pair of chickens, or a turkey was not unfrequently laid upon
the kitchen table by him. Uncle Nathan ate the roast beef, the turkeys,
and the chickens, but he hated the giver none the less. It was a
shameful waste of money to buy such things; and these delicacies
reminded him of the dollars and half dollars that had slipped away from
him when he lost Levi, rather than the kindness and Christian charity
of the young man in presenting them.

It was not so with Mrs. Fairfield, though the savage flings and unkind
allusions of her husband to his nephew were not without their influence
upon her. She could not help feeling a great regard for the donor of
the newspapers, and the substantials which gave the table such an
unwonted attractiveness. As far as her dull nature would permit, she
appreciated the kindness and good will of Levi. It is true that on
several occasions uncle Nathan had sold the turkeys, chickens, and
roasting-pieces his late ward had given him; yet it had never been
without a protest on the part of aunt Susan. It was an awful waste for
him to eat these luxuries; but selling the gifts of Levi was monstrous
to her, and her protest was so energetic that she carried her point,
and the miser was compelled to eat food which was so costly that it
almost choked him.

Uncle Nathan did not get fat on the bounty of his liberal nephew. He
had too many corroding cares, too many financial terrors, too many
fears that the banks would break, his creditors fail, his stocks
depreciate, to eat and sleep like a Christian. Misers never grow
liberal as they grow old, and he was no exception to the rule. A
financial panic had just swept over the land, and though he had lost
nothing by it, it caused him more anguish than thousands who had lost
their all. He was afraid of banks, afraid of men, afraid even of good
mortgages on productive real estate. He dreaded some calamity he could
not define, which would wrest from him every dollar he had in the
world.

To guard against this horrible event, he had actually converted some of
the less reliable of his securities into gold, and concealed it in his
house, preferring to sacrifice the interest to the safety of the
principal, bitter as the necessity seemed to be.

For two months uncle Nathan had kept four thousand dollars in gold in
the house, groaning at the loss of sixty-six and two thirds cents a day
in interest; but a bank somewhere in the state had failed, and he dared
not trust the money out of his own possession. It had been hidden in
the cellar, hidden in the parlor, hidden in the kitchen, and hidden in
his chamber; but no place seemed to be safe, and the miser trembled
when awake, and trembled when asleep, in his dreams, lest the
figurative description of riches should be realized, and his gold
should take to itself wings and fly away.

Ruin and decay had invaded the sleeping-room of the miser, as it had
every other part of his house. There was many a hole in the plastering,
and many a hole in the floor; but there was one particular hole in the
wall, about a foot above the floor, in a corner behind the bed. This
particular hole was selected as the receptacle for the gold. He had cut
away the laths, so that he could thrust his arm down into the aperture,
and deposit the bag on the sill of the house.

He had begged a piece of board of Mr. Mogmore to cover this hole, and
had fastened it over the plastering with four screws. While he was thus
engaged, Mat Mogmore, the carpenter's son, had come for the
screw-driver uncle Nathan had borrowed at the shop. Mrs. Fairfield, not
knowing what her husband was doing, sent him into the chamber for it.

"Stoppin' up the cracks to keep the cold out," whined the miser. "I
cal'late I got the rheumatiz out of this hole."

Mat wanted the screw-driver, but he helped fasten up the board before
he took it, and wondered what the old man had cut away the laths for.
The board was put up, and the money was safe; but the miser hardly
dared to go out of sight of the house.




CHAPTER II.

FIRE.


Levi entered the house. Uncle Nathan was not at home, but he was
probably somewhere in the vicinity. Aunt Susan was in the kitchen
baking her weekly batch of brown bread, the staple article of food in
the family, because it was cheaper than white bread.

"Aunt, I want to go up in the garret and get that little saw-mill I
made four or five years ago," said Levi.

"Well, I s'pose you can," replied she, filling up the old brick oven
with pine wood, which cracked and snapped furiously in the fierce
flames.

"It's up there now--isn't it?"

"I s'pose 'tis, if you put it there; I hain't teched it."

"Will you give me a little piece of candle, too, if you please?"

"You can take that piece in the candlestick on the mantel-tree piece,
if it's long enough."

"That will do just as well as if it were a foot long," replied Levi,
taking the piece of candle, and rolling it up in a bit of newspaper.

He went up into the attic, found the saw-mill just as he had left it,
though it was covered with half an inch of dust and cobwebs. When he
came down, he heard uncle Nathan's voice in the kitchen. He was
growling because his wife used so much wood to heat the oven, and Levi
concluded not to see him that day, for he seemed to be in a more than
usually unamiable frame of mind. He went out at the front door, and
Bessie joined him as he passed Mr. Mogmore's house. The saw-mill was
taken to the spot where it had stood before. The dam was reconstructed
much more readily than the rebel states.

Taking the candle from his pocket, Levi greased the running parts of
the machine, hoisted the gate, and away went the saw as briskly as a
bee after its