“Oh!  I could not stay all night.  The mate would be uneasy about me, and might send the crew to look for me.  I’m just as thankful, but I couldn’t stop,” said Tommy.

“But you never can find the bay on such a night as this; and I’ve no pass, or I would show you into Broad street, and then you could find the way.  I am afraid of the guardmen, and if they caught me and took me to the station, my friend would abuse me awfully,” said Angeline, for such was her name; and she laid her hand upon his arm to feel his wet clothes.

He now arose from the chair, and putting on his hat, she followed him to the door and directed him how to proceed to find Broad street.

He proceeded according to her directions, and soon found it.  Now, he thought, he was all right; but the wind had increased to a gale, and having a full sweep through the street, it was as much as he could do to resist it.  He had scarcely reached half the distance of the street when it came in such sudden gusts that he was forced to seek a refuge against its fury in the recess of a door.  He sat down upon a step, and buttoning his little jacket around him, rested his head upon his knees, and while waiting for the storm to abate, fell into a deep sleep.  From this situation he was suddenly aroused by a guardman, who seized him by the collar, and giving him an unmerciful twitch, brought, him headlong upon the sidewalk.

“What are you at here?  Ah! another miserable vagrant, I suppose.  We’ll take care of such rascals as you; come with me.  We’ll larn ye to be round stealing at this time o’ night.”

“No, sir! no, sir!  I didn’t do nothing”—­

“Shut up!  None of your lyin’ to a policeman, you young rascal.  I don’t want to hear, nor I won’t stand your infernal lies.”

“Oh do, mister, let me tell you all about it, and I know you won’t hurt me.  I’m only going to the vessel, if you’ll show me the way,” said the little fellow imploringly.

“Stop yer noise, ye lying young thief, you.  Ye wouldn’t be prowling about at this time o’ night if ye belonged to a vessel.  ’Pon me soul, I believe yer a nigger.  Come to the light,” said the guardman, dragging him up to a lamp near by.  “Well, you a’n’t a nigger, I reckon, but yer a strolling vagrant, and that’s worse,” he continued, after examining his face very minutely.  So, dragging him to the guardhouse as he would a dog, and thrusting him into a sort of barrack-room, the captain of the guard and several officials soon gathered around him to inquire the difficulty.  The officers listened to the guardman’s story, with perfect confidence in every thing he said, but refused to allow the little fellow to reply in his own behalf.  “I watched him for a long time, saw him fumbling about people’s doors, and then go to sleep in Mr. T—­’s recess.  These boys are gettin’ to be the very mischief-most dangerous fellows we have to deal with,” said the policeman.

“Oh, no!  I was only goin’ to the brig, and got turned round.  I’ve been more than two hours trying to find my way in the storm.  I’m sure I a’n’t done no harm.  If ye’ll only let me tell my story,” said Tommy.