The time fixed for the sailing of the steamer was on Tuesday morning; and Mr. George, in order to have time to communicate with some of the gentlemen to whose care he intended to intrust the two children, planned his journey to New York so as to arrive there in good season on Monday.  He supposed that he should be able, without any difficulty, to find one or the other of them in the afternoon or evening of that day.

“And if worst comes to the worst,” added he to himself, in his reflections on the subject, “I can certainly find them at the ship, by going on board an hour or two before she sails, and watching the plank as the passengers come up from the pier.”

Worst did come to the worst, it seems; for when Mr. George came home at nine o’clock in the evening, on Monday, and Rollo came up to him very eagerly in the parlor of the boarding house, to ask him whom he had found to take charge of them, he was forced to confess that he had not found any one.

“I am glad of it!” exclaimed Rollo, joyfully.  “I am glad of it!  I like it a great deal better to take care of ourselves.”

He then began dancing about the room, and finally ran off in great glee, to inform Jane of the prospect before them.  Rollo was very ambitious of being considered a man.

He found Jane sitting on the stairs with another child of her own age, that she had become acquainted with at the boarding house; for it was at a boarding house, and not at a hotel, that Mr. George had taken lodgings for his party.  This child’s name was Lottie; that is, she was commonly called Lottie, though her real name was Charlotte.  She was a beautiful child, with beaming black eyes, a radiant face, and dark glossy curls of hair hanging down upon her neck.  Jane and Lottie were playing together in a sort of recess at a landing of the stairs, where there was a sofa and a window.  They had tiger and the cage with them.  The door was open and tiger was playing about the cage, going in and out at her pleasure.

“Jane,” said Rollo, “uncle George cannot find any body to take care of you, and so I am going to take care of you.”

Jane did not answer.

“Are you going to England?” asked Lottie.

“Yes,” replied Jane, mournfully; “and there is nobody to go with us, to take care of us.”

“I went to England once,” said Lottie.

“Did you?” asked Jane; “and did you go across the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Yes,” said Lottie.

“Of course she did,” said Rollo; “there is no other way.”

“And how did you get along?” said Jane.

“O, very well,” said Lottie; “we had a very good time playing about the decks and cabins.”

Jane felt somewhat reassured by these declarations of Lottie, and she even began to think that if there was nothing to be done in crossing the Atlantic but to play about the decks and cabins all the way, there was a possibility that Rollo might be able to take care of her.

“My uncle is going on a voyage, too, to-morrow,” added Lottie.

“What uncle?” asked Jane.

“My uncle Thomas,” said Lottie.  “He lives in this house.  He is packing up his trunk now.  He is going to Charleston.  I wish I were going with him.”

“Do you like to go to sea?” asked Jane.

“Yes,” said Lottie, “pretty well.  I like to see the sailors climb up the masts and rigging; and I like the cabins, because there are so many sofas in them, and so many places to hide.”

Little Jane felt much less uneasiness at the idea of going to sea after hearing Lottie give such favorable accounts of her own experience.  Still she was not entirely satisfied.  As for Rollo, his eagerness to go independent of all supervision did not arise wholly from vanity and presumption.  He was now twelve years of age, and that is an age which fairly qualifies a boy to bear some considerable burdens of responsibility and duty.  At any rate, it is an age at which it ought to be expected that the powers and characteristics of manhood should, at least, begin to be developed.  It is right, therefore, that a boy at that age should begin to feel something like a man, and to desire that opportunities should arise for exercising the powers which he finds thus developing themselves and growing stronger every day within him.

The fact that Lottie’s uncle Thomas was going to embark for Charleston on the same day that had been fixed for Rollo’s embarkation for Europe might seem at first view a very unimportant circumstance.  It happened, however, that it led, in fact, to very serious consequences.  The case was this.  It is necessary, however, first to explain, for the benefit of those readers of this book who may never have had opportunities to become acquainted with the usages of great cities, that there are two separate systems in use in such cities for the transportation respectively of baggage, and of persons, from place to place.  For baggage and parcels, there are what are called expresses.  The owners of these expresses have offices in various parts of the city, where books are kept, in which a person may go and have an entry made of any trunk, or bag, or other package which he may wish to have conveyed to any place.  He enters in the book what the parcel is, where it is, and where he wishes to have it taken.  The express man then, who has a great number of wagons employed for this purpose, sends for the parcel by the first wagon that comes in.

For persons who wish to be conveyed from place to place, there are carriages all the time standing at certain points by the sides of the streets, ready for any one who calls them, and there are also stables where carriages are always in readiness.  Now, it so happened that Lottie’s uncle Thomas had concluded to have his trunk taken down to the Charleston ship by the express, intending to walk to the pier himself from his office, which was in the lower part of the city not far from the pier where his ship was lying.  So he went to an express office, and there, at his dictation, the clerk made the following entry in his book: ­

     Trunk at 780 Broadway, to steamer Carolina, Pier N North River. 
     To-morrow, at half past nine o’clock.

On the other hand, Mr. George, as he required a carriage to take the children down, did not go to the express office at all.  He intended to take their trunk on the carriage.  So he went to the stable, and there, at his dictation, the clerk made on the book there the following entry: ­

     Carriage at 780 Broadway.  To-morrow, at half past nine o’clock.

In accordance with this arrangement, therefore, a little after nine o’clock both the trunks were got ready at the boarding house, each in its own room.  The chambermaid in Rollo’s room, when she saw that the trunk was ready, offered to carry it down, which, as she was a good strong Irish girl, she could very easily do.  She accordingly took it up in her arms and carried it down stairs to the front entry, and put it down near the door.  One of the waiters of the house was standing by when she did this.

“What is that, Mary?” said he.

“It is a trunk to go to the steamer,” said Mary.  “There is a man coming for it pretty soon.”

She meant, of course, that it was to go to the Liverpool steamer, and the man who was to come for it was the driver of the carriage that Mr. George had engaged.  She knew nothing about any other trunk, as the room which Lottie’s uncle occupied was attended by another chambermaid.

Mary, having deposited the trunk in its place, returned up stairs, to assist in getting Rollo and Jane ready.  A moment afterward the express man, whom Lottie’s uncle had sent for his trunk, rang the door bell.  The waiter opened the door.

“I came for a trunk,” said the man, “to take to the steamer.”

“Yes,” said the waiter.  “Here it is, all ready.  They have just brought it down.”

So the express man took up the trunk, and carrying it out, put it on his wagon; then, mounting on his seat, he drove away.

Five minutes afterward, the carriage which Mr. George had engaged arrived at the door.  Mr. George and the children came down the stairs.  Mr. George, as soon as he reached the lower hall, inquired, ­

“Where is the trunk?”

“The man has taken it, sir,” said he.

“Ah, he has, has he?  That is all right.”

So Mr. George and the children got into the carriage, the driver holding the door open for them as they did so.  As the driver was about to shut the door, Mr. George said, ­

“Steamer Pacific, foot of Canal Street.”

The driver, taking this for his direction, mounted his box, and drove rapidly away.

When the party arrived at the gates which led to the pier, they found a great concourse of people and a throng of carts and carriages blocking up the way.  The great gate was open, and a stream of carriages containing passengers, and of carts and express wagons conveying baggage, was pouring in.  Mr. George’s carriage was admitted, at length, in its turn, and drove on until it came opposite the long stairway which led on board the ship.  Here it stopped, and Mr. George and the children got out.

“Where is the trunk?” said Mr. George, looking before and behind the carriage.  “Why, where is the trunk?  You have lost the trunk off of the carriage, driver, in coming down.”

“No, sir,” said the driver; “there was no trunk.”

“There certainly was,” said Mr. George; “and they told me that you had put it on.”

“No, sir,” said the driver.  “This is the first time I have heard any thing about any trunk.”

Mr. George was now quite seriously alarmed.  He looked about this way and that, and did not seem to know what to do.  In the mean time the line of carriages from behind pressed on, and the drivers of them began to call out to clear the way.  Mr. George found himself compelled to decide upon something very promptly.

“Drive over to the other side of the pier,” said he, “and wait there till I come.”

Then, taking the two children by the hand, he began to lead them up the long plank by which the people were going on board.

Mr. George said nothing, but continued to lead the children along, the throng before and behind them being so dense that they could not see at all where they were going.  When they reached the top of the stairway, they descended by a few steps, and so came on board.  The children then found themselves moving along what seemed a narrow passage way, amid crowds of people, until at length they came to a short and steep flight of steps, which led up to what seemed to Jane a sort of a roof.  The balustrade, or what served as balustrade for these steps, was made of rope, and painted green.  By help of this rope, and by some lifting on the part of Mr. George, Rollo and Jane succeeded in getting up, and, at length, found themselves in a place where they could see.

They were on what was called the promenade deck.  There were masts, and a great smoke-pipe, and a great amount of ropes and rigging rising up above them, and there were many other curious objects around.  The children had, however, no time to attend to these things, for Mr. George led them rapidly along to that part of the promenade deck which was opposite to the long plank, where the people were coming up from the pier.  Mr. George left the children here for a minute or two, while he went and brought two camp stools for them to sit upon.  He placed these stools near the edge of the deck.  There was a railing to keep them from falling off.

“There, children,” said he.  “Now you can sit here and see the people come on board.  It is a very funny thing to see.  I am going after the trunk.  You must not mind if I don’t come back for a long time.  The ship will not sail yet for two hours.  You must stay here, however, all the time.  You must not go away from this place on any consideration.”

So saying, Mr. George went away.  A moment afterward the children saw him going down the plank to the pier.  As soon as he reached the pier he forced his way through the crowd to the other side of it, where the carriage was standing.  The children watched him all the time.  When he reached the carriage, they saw that he stopped a moment to say a few words to the driver, and then hastily got into the carriage.  The driver shut the door, mounted upon the box, and then drove out through the great gate and disappeared.

What Mr. George said to the driver was this.

“Now, driver, we have got just two hours to find that trunk.  I pay you full fare for the carriage for the two hours at any rate, and if we find the trunk and get it on board that ship before she sails, I pay you five dollars over.  Now take me up to 780 Broadway as quick as you can go.”

When the children found themselves thus left, they could not help feeling for a moment a very painful sensation of loneliness, although they were, in fact, surrounded with crowds, and were in the midst of a scene of the greatest excitement.  Even Rollo found his courage and resolution ebbing away.  He sat for a little time without speaking, and gazed upon the scene of commotion which he saw exhibited before him on the pier with a vague and bewildered feeling of anxiety and fear.  Presently he turned to look at Jennie.  He saw that she was trying to draw her handkerchief from her pocket, and that tears were slowly trickling down her cheek.

“Jennie,” said he, “don’t cry.  Uncle George will find the trunk pretty soon, and come back.”

It might, perhaps, be supposed that Rollo would have been made to feel more dispirited and depressed himself from witnessing Jennie’s dejection; but the effect was really quite the contrary of this.  In fact, it is found to be universally true, that nothing tends to nerve the heart of man to greater resolution and energy in encountering and struggling against the dangers and ills that surround him, than to have woman near him and dependent upon him, and to see her looking up to him for protection and support.  It is true that Rollo was not a man, nor was Jennie a woman.  But even in their early years the instincts and sympathies, which exercise so powerful a control over the human heart in later periods of life, began to develop themselves in embryo forms.  So Rollo found all his courage and confidence coming back again when he saw Jennie in tears.

Besides, he reflected that he had a duty to perform.  He perceived that the time had now come for him to show by his acts that he was really able to do what he had been so eager to undertake.  He determined, therefore, that instead of yielding to the feelings of fear and despondency which his situation was so well calculated to inspire, he would nerve himself with resolution, and meet the emergencies of the occasion like a man.

The first thing to be done, as he thought, was to amuse Jane, and divert her attention, if possible, from her fears.  So he began to talk to her about what was taking place before them on the pier.

“Here comes another carriage, Jennie,” said he.  “Look, look!  See what a parcel of trunks they have got on behind.  That passenger has not lost his trunks, at any rate.  See all these orange women, too, Jennie, standing on the edge of the pier.  How many oranges they have got.  Do you suppose they will sell them all?  O Jennie, Jennie, look there!  See that great pile of trunks going up into the air.”

Jane looked in the direction where Rollo pointed, and saw a large pile of trunks and boxes, eight or ten in all, slowly rising into the air, being drawn up by means of a monstrous rope, which descended from a system of pulleys and machinery above.  After attaining a considerable height, the whole mass slowly moved over toward the ship, and after reaching the centre of the deck it began to descend again, with a great rattling of chains and machinery, until it disappeared from view somewhere on board.

“That is the way they get the baggage on board, Jennie,” said Rollo.  “I never should have thought of getting baggage on board in that way; should you, Jennie?  I wonder where the trunks go to when the rope lets them down.  It is in some great black hole, I have no doubt, down in the ship.  The next load of trunks that comes I have a great mind to go and see.”

“No, no!” said Jane, “you must not go away.  Uncle George said that we must not move away from here on any account.”

“So he did,” said Rollo.  “Well, I won’t go.”

After a short time, Jennie became so far accustomed to her situation as to feel in some degree relieved of her fears.  In fact, she began to find it quite amusing to watch the various phases which the exciting scene that was passing before her assumed.  Rollo endeavored still more to encourage and cheer her, by frequently assuring her that their uncle would soon come back.  He did this, indeed, from the best of motives; but it was not wise or even right to do so, for he could not possibly know when his uncle would come back, or even whether he would come back at all.

In the mean time, the crowd of carriages and people coming and going on the pier was continually increasing as the time for the departure of the ship drew nigh.  There were more than one hundred passengers to come on board, and almost every one of these had many friends to come with them, to bid them good by; so that there was a perpetual movement of carriages coming and going upon the pier, and the long plank which led up to the ship was crowded with people ascending and descending in continuous streams.  The paddle wheels were all the time in motion, though the ship, being yet fastened to the shore, could not move away.  The wheels, however, produced a great commotion in the water, covering the surface of it with rushing foam, and at the same time the steam was issuing from the escape-pipe with a roaring sound, which seemed to crown and cover, as it were, without at all subduing the general din.

Rollo had one very extraordinary proof of the deep and overwhelming character of the excitement of this scene, in an accident that occurred in the midst of it, which, for a moment, frightened him extremely.  The pier where the steamer was lying was surrounded by other piers and docks, all crowded with boats and shipping.  It happened that not very far from him there lay a small vessel, a sloop, which had come down the North River, and was now moored at the head of the dock.  There was a family on board this sloop, and while Rollo was by chance looking that way, he saw a small child, perhaps seven or eight years old, fall off from the deck of the sloop into the water.  The child did not sink, being buoyed up by her clothes; and as the tide was flowing strong at that time, an eddy of the water carried her slowly along away from the sloop toward the shore.  The child screamed with terror, and Rollo could now and then catch the sound of her voice above the roaring of the steam.  The sailors on board the sloop ran toward the boat, and began to let it down.  Others on the shore got ready with poles and boat hooks, and though they were probably shouting and calling aloud to one another, Rollo could hear nothing but now and then the scream of the child.  At length a man came running down a flight of stone steps which led from the pier to the water in a corner of the dock, throwing off his coat and shoes as he went down.  He plunged into the water, swam out to the child, seized her by the clothes with one hand, and with the other swam back with her toward the steps, and there they were both drawn out by the bystanders together.

This scene, however, exciting as it would have been under any other circumstances, produced very little impression upon the great crowd that was engaged about the steamer.  A few boys ran that way to see how the affair would result.  Some others, standing on the decks of the ship or on the pier, turned and looked in the direction of the child.  Otherwise every thing went on the same.  The carriages went and came, the people walked eagerly about among each other, exchanging farewells.  The paddle wheels continued their motion, the steam pipe kept up its deafening roar, and the piles of trunks continued to rise into the air and swing over into the ship, without any interruption.

The time passed rapidly on, and Mr. George did not return.  At length but few new carriages came, and the stream of people on the great plank seemed to flow all one way, and that was from the ship to the pier; while the crowd upon the pier had increased until it had become a mighty throng.  At length the officer in command gave orders to rig the tackle to the great plank stair, with a view to heaving it back upon the pier.  The last, lingering visitors to the ship, who had come to take leave of their friends, hastily bade them farewell and ran down the plank.  The ship, in fact, was just on the point of casting off from the pier, when suddenly Mr. George’s carriage appeared at the great gate.  It came in among the crowd at a very rapid rate; but still it was so detained by the obstructions which were in the way, that before it reached its stopping-place the plank had begun slowly to rise into the air, and the men on the pier had begun to throw off the fastenings.

“You are too late, sir,” said a man to Mr. George.  “You cannot get on board.”

“Put the trunk on board,” said Mr. George.  “That’s all.”

The man took up the trunk, which was by no means heavy, and just succeeded in passing it through into a sort of porthole, near the engine, which happened to be open.  Mr. George then looked up to the place where he had left the children, and shouted out to them, ­

“Good by, children; don’t be afraid.  Your father will come to the ship for you at Liverpool.  Good by, Jennie.  Rollo will take excellent care of you.  Don’t be afraid.”

By this time the ship was slowly and majestically moving away from the pier; and thus it happened that Rollo and Jennie set out on the voyage to Europe, without having any one to take them in charge.