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Fame and Fortune Weekly No. 1: A Lucky Deal; or The 'Cutest Boy in Wall Street

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<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> IN WHICH JACK HAZARD MAKES A HERO OF HIMSELF. When Jack Hazard left his home that morning, after kissing his mother and sister, as was his invariable custom, he was in good spirits. “I’ll get something to do to-day sure,” he said to himself. “Mother has the rent, thank goodness, and I haven’t that on my mind.” He found his particular friend, Ed Potter, waiting for him at the corner. Ed worked in a Vandewater Street printing house, and he and Jack always walked down town from the neighborhood of Grand Street together of a morning. “Haven’t caught on yet, have you, Jack?” inquired Potter. “No; but I’ve a dozen places here I’ve cut out of the ‘World’ that I’m going to look up.” “Hope you’ll connect with one. If you knew anything about typesticking I could put you on to a job. There’s a shop on Nassau Street wants a boy to pull proofs, hold copy, and fill in at the case on plain reprint. If you were only up in the business you could get seven or eight dollars a week.” “I should like to earn as much as that,” said Jack, eagerly, “but I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with less to start with.” “Why, one of these jobs is in Brooklyn,” said Ed. “You aren’t going over there after work, are you?” “Sure, if I fail to get it on this side of the bridge,” replied Jack, with a determined air. “But it’ll cost you carfare every day.” “No, it won’t; I mean to walk over the bridge.” “You’ll have to leave the house earlier.” “I guess I will, and get home later; but when a fellow is looking for work, things don’t always come his way. However, I mean to try for all my New York ads first.” “Oh, that Brooklyn place will be gone long before you cover all these other jobs. It won’t be worth while bothering about it.” “I’m not letting anything get by me.” Which showed that Jack Hazard was a persevering boy: and perseverance is one of the greatest factors of success through life. The two boys parted at the entrance to the freight elevator of the Vandewater Street printing house, and Jack turned into Frankfort Street, crossed over to William, and began his daily hustle for work. At many places he found a crowd already collected before he arrived, and after waiting a short time failed to secure an interview, as some boy ahead of him got the job. One place the man wanted him to work every Saturday till ten at night, and offered him the munificent sum of $3.50 per week, with a prospective raise of fifty cents at the end of six months. Jack refused this, as he believed he could do much better, and besides he really could not afford to work for so small a sum. At another place he found he would have to work on Sunday every other week, and, this being against his principles, he moved on. “I’m afraid I’ll have to strike that Brooklyn place, after all,” he said as he stepped out of a Water Street ship chandlery that had advertised for a bright boy and had taken a youth on trial an hour before. A fleet of canal-boats was banked up against the wharves opposite, and Jack felt a strong temptation to hang around a little while and watch them take aboard and discharge their cargoes. But, realizing that this wasn’t business, he turned away and hurried up the street. “I might as well cross by Fulton Ferry,” he mused; “it’ll save time, and time is money with me just now.” Although the three cents made a hole in the dime he had brought with him to pay for his lunch, Jack received his change with his customary cheerfulness and walked on board the boat. It was half-past nine, and the boy noticed that quite a number of passengers were on board as the boat pulled out from the dock and headed across the river. He leaned on the rail alongside a fine-looking old gentleman who held a little girl of five years by the hand while he pointed out various landmarks along the receding shore to a stylishly-dressed lady who looked enough like him to be his daughter. “Gran’pa! gran’pa!” cried the child, tugging at the gentleman’s hand. “Yes, my dear,” he answered, smiling down on her. “Lift me up, p’ease; I want to see, too.” The old gentleman raised the little girl and seated her on the rail while he held her about the waist. She looked up and down the sun-kissed river in great delight. “Isn’t it b’utiful, mamma?” “Yes, dear.” Then she noticed Jack’s admiring gaze. He thought she was the most charming little creature he had ever seen. She smiled in a friendly way, and then with some little hesitation held out one of her hands to him. He took it and shook it gently. “Oo is a nice boy, ain’t oo?” The old gentleman looked at Jack, and the lady smiled, while the boy himself flushed a little at the child’s artless remark and the attention it had drawn to him. “Oo! Isn’t dat high!” cried the girl, pointing at the central span of the Brooklyn bridge. “Yes,” answered Jack. Just then the engine bell rang, and the boat stopped in mid-stream, while her whistle gave out several shrill toots. Another gong sounded, and the boat began to back and her head to swerve slowly down the river. Jack looked ahead as well as he could and saw part of a large freight float close aboard. Then came a sudden and violent shock that threw the passengers almost off their feet. The boy grabbed the rail, but the old gentleman went down on the deck, his arm slipping from the child, who went overboard with the shock. The lady, who had been thrown back several feet, gave a heart-rending scream and flew at the rail. “Fanny, my darling! Oh, heaven, she is overboard! Save her!” The little girl had struggled for a moment on the surface of the river and then sank out of sight. One or two men in the midst of the confusion ran to get life-preservers, and everybody else, except Jack Hazard, seemed to be staggered by the calamity, and gazed out on the water with bulged eyes. But the boy never lost his head. Jack whipped off his jacket, mounted the rail, and leaped into the water. He struck out lustily for the spot where the child had gone down, and presently saw one little arm and a portion of her golden hair appear on the surface not far away. “There she is,” he murmured, and redoubled his efforts to reach her before she should go down again. But she went under again before he could seize her, and the plucky boy dived. Though encumbered by his clothes, Jack was so much at home in the water that he had little difficulty in following the descent of the bright-hued dress the child wore, and he had one arm about the unconscious little one in a brief space of time. Kicking out with all his might, he rose to the surface like a duck. A life-preserver floated near. Resting the little girl’s head on it, he pushed it before him toward the ferryboat, the rail and end of which were now black with excited people. Several deck hands were standing outside the folding guards with ropes in their hands, and the moment Jack was seen to be within reach one of them flung his line so that it struck the water close to him. He seized the end with his disengaged hand, and the men began to pull him in at once. Less than ten minutes from the time the girl was pitched into the river Jack had her back on board and regained the deck himself. Dripping like a large Newfoundland, he was instantly surrounded by an admiring group of passengers loud in their commendations on his courage and presence of mind. At the same time another throng gathered about the unconscious child, its well-nigh frantic mother, and the white-haired old gentleman. “Come down into the boiler-room, young fellow,” spoke up a strapping deck hand, “and we’ll dry your clothes for you.” And Jack, glad to get rid of the attentions of the crowd, followed his guide to the warm regions beneath the engine-room. “Hello!” exclaimed a grimy-faced stoker. “Been overboard, eh?” “That’s what he has,” said the deck hand. “Done what’ll put his name in the papers, Jim. Jumped overboard after a little gal that fell in from the rail where she was sitting when that barge run us afoul.” “Is that so?” cried Jim. “Tip us your flipper, lad; you’ve got the real thing in you, all right.” “Strip, young man. It won’t take but a moment or two to take the moisture out of your clothes down here. I reckon you’ll find it hotter than blazes afore you leave.” “It isn’t every fellow would do what you did,” said the sweating coal-heaver, admiringly. “Oh, I didn’t mind it; I’m a good swimmer,” said Jack, modestly. “You ought to make a stake out of this,” said the man, hanging the dripping garments about to the best advantage. “What do you mean?” “The little gal’s people ought to be grateful enough to hand you out something handsome.” “If it’s money you mean,” replied the boy, stoutly, “I shouldn’t accept a cent.” “You wouldn’t?” gasped the man, in surprise. “Not a nickel.” “Why not? You’re entitled to something. You ought to have a new suit of clothes at any rate—the best that can be bought.” Jack was silent. “Maybe you’re well off and don’t want nothing,” said the stoker, after giving the furnace a rake with a long iron implement. “No, I’m not well off; but I don’t take money for such a service as that.” “Well, you’re a curious kind of chap,” replied the man, scratching his head and looking the naked but well-formed lad over from his head down. “I’d take money mighty quick if ’twas me as done the trick. I s’pose you’re too proud, eh?” “You don’t seem to understand,” said Jack, who wished the fellow would talk about something else. “Say,” came a voice down the stoke-hole, “send up that young fellow as soon as his things are dried. The gal’s folks have been asking for him and want to see him bad.” <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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