Noddy’s duty on the journey to Brighton was to assist in keeping the cattle on their feet.  When the poor animals become weary, they are disposed to lie down; but they are so closely packed that this is not possible for more than one or two in a car; and if one lies down he is liable to be trampled to death by the others.  The persons in charge of the cattle, therefore, are obliged to watch them, and keep them on their feet.

The train occasionally stopped during the night, and was several times delayed, so that it did not reach its destination till the middle of the following forenoon.  The drover provided him a hearty breakfast in the morning, and Noddy was in no haste.  The future was still nothing but a blank to him, and he was in no hurry to commence the battle of life.

When he arrived at Brighton he assisted in driving the cattle to the pens; and then, with half a dollar, which the drover gave him for his extra services, he started for Boston, whose spires he could even then see in the distance.  He reached the city, and from the Mill Dam ­the long bridge he had just crossed ­he walked to the Common.  Being quite worn out by two nights of hard work, and the long walk he had just taken, he seated himself on one of the stone benches near the Frog Pond.  It was a warm and pleasant day, and he watched the sports of the happy children who were at play, until his eyelids grew heavy, and he hardly knew the State House from the Big Tree.

For a boy of his age he had undergone a severe experience.  The exciting circumstances which surrounded him had kept him wide awake until his physical nature could endure no more.  Leaving the seat he had occupied, he sought out the quietest place he could find, and stretching himself on the grass, went to sleep.

It was nearly sunset when he awoke; but he felt like a new being, ready now to work and win at any business which might offer.  He wandered about the streets of the city for two hours, and then ate a hearty supper at a restaurant.  It was too late to do anything that night, and he asked a policeman to tell him where he could sleep.  The officer, finding he was a friendless stranger, gave him a bed at the station-house.

In the morning he made his way to the wharves, and during the long day he went from vessel to vessel in search of a berth as cabin-boy.  He asked for this situation, because he had frequently heard the term; but he was willing to accept any position he could obtain.  No one wanted a cabin-boy, or so small a sailor as he was.  Night came on again, with a hopeless prospect for the future; and poor Noddy began to question the wisdom of the course he had taken.  A tinker’s shop, with plenty to eat, and a place to sleep, was certainly much better than wandering about the streets.

He could not help thinking of Woodville, and the pleasant room he had occupied in the servants’ quarters; of the bountiful table at which he had sat; and, above all, of the kindness and care which Miss Bertha had always bestowed upon him.  With all his heart he wished he was there; but when he thought of the court-house and the prison, he was more reconciled to his fate, and was determined to persevere in his efforts to obtain work.

It was the close of a long summer day.  He had been wandering about the wharves at the north part of the city; and as the darkness came on, he walked up Hanover Street in search of a policeman, who would give him permission to sleep another night in the station-house.  As he did not readily find one, he turned into another street.  It made but little difference to him where he went, for he had no destination, and he was as likely to find a policeman in one place as another.

He had gone but a short distance before he saw a crowd of ragged boys pursuing and hooting at a drunken man who was leading a little girl ten or eleven years of age, ­or rather, she was trying to lead him.  Under ordinary circumstances, we are afraid that Noddy would have joined the ragamuffins and enjoyed the senseless sport as well as any of them; but his own sorrows raised him above this meanness in the present instance, and he passed the boys without a particle of interest in the fun.

He was going by the drunken man and the little girl, when one of the boldest of the pursuers rushed up and gave the man a push, which caused him to fall on the pavement.  The young vagabonds raised a chorus of laughter, and shouted with all their might.  The little girl, who was evidently the drunkard’s daughter, did not desert him.  She bent over him, and used all her feeble powers to assist him to his feet again.

“My poor father!” sobbed she; and her heart seemed to be broken by the grief and peril which surrounded her.

The tones with which these words were spoken touched the heart of Noddy; and without stopping to consider any troublesome questions, he sprang to the assistance of the girl.  The man was not utterly helpless; and with the aid of Noddy and his daughter he got upon his feet again.  At that moment another of the unruly boys, emboldened by the feat of the first, rushed up and grasped the arm of the little girl, as if to pull her away from her father’s support.

“Don’t touch me!  Don’t touch me!” pleaded the grief-stricken girl, in tones so full of sorrow that our wanderer could not resist them, if her vagabond persecutor could.

He sprang to her assistance, and with one vigorous and well-directed blow, he knocked the rude assailant halfway across the street, and left him sprawling on the pavement.  Noddy did not wait to see what the boy would do next, but turned his attention to the poor girl, whose situation, rather than that of her father, had awakened his sympathy.

“What is your father’s name?” asked Noddy, who proceeded as though he had a sovereign remedy for the miseries of the situation.

“Captain McClintock,” sobbed the little girl, still clinging to her father, with no sting of reproach in her words or her manner.

“Don’t cry, little girl; I will do what I can for you,” said Noddy, warmly.  “I can lick those boys, if I can’t do anything more.”

“Thank you!” replied the afflicted daughter.  “If I can only get him down to the vessel, I shall be so glad!”

“Want to fight?” shouted the young ruffian, whom Noddy had upset, coming as near the party as he dared.

“I’ll give you fight, if you come near me again,” replied the champion of the poor girl.

“Come on, if you want to fight,” cried the little bully, who had not the pluck to approach within twenty feet of his late assailant.

The crowd of boys still shouted, and some of them carried their hostility so far as to throw sticks and stones at the little party; but as long as they kept at a respectful distance, Noddy did not deem it wise to meddle with them, though he kept one eye on them, and stood ready to punish those who ventured too near.

“Come, Captain McClintock,” said he, as he attempted to lead the drunken father, “let’s go on board.”

“Heave ahead, my hearty!” replied the captain, as he pressed forward, though his steps were so uncertain that his two feeble supporters could hardly keep him on his feet.

The remarkable trio passed down Fleet Street, and, after many difficulties and much “rough weather,” reached the head of the wharf, where the little girl said her father’s vessel lay.  They were still closely followed by the merciless ragamuffins, who had pelted them with stones and sticks, until the patience of Noddy was severely tried.

“Come, my boy, now we’ll ­hic ­now we’ll go and ­hic ­go and take something ’fore we go on board,” said the drunken captain, suddenly coming to a dead halt in the middle of the street.

“O, no, father!” cried the daughter; “let us go on board.”

“Something to take, Mollie, and you shall ­hic ­you shall have some ­hic ­some soda water.”

“I don’t want any, father.  Do come on board.”

“You are a good girl, Mollie, and you shall ­hic ­you shall have some cake.”

“Not to-night, father.  We will get it in the morning,” pleaded poor Mollie, trembling with apprehension for the consequences which must follow another glass of liquor.

“Come, Captain McClintock, let’s go on board,” said Noddy.

“Who are you?” demanded the inebriated man.

“I’m the best fellow out; and I want to see your vessel.”

“You shall see her, my boy.  If you are ­hic ­the best fellow out, come and take something with me,” stammered the captain.

“Let’s see the vessel first,” replied Noddy, tugging away at the arm of the drunken man.

“She’s a very fine ­hic ­fine vessel.”

“Let me see her, then.”

“Heave ahead, my jolly roebuck.  I’ve got some of the best ­hic ­on board zever you tasted.  Come along.”

Noddy and Mollie kept him going till they reached the part of the wharf where the captain’s vessel was moored; and the end of their troubles seemed to be at hand, when the boys, aware that their sport was nearly over, became very bold and daring.  They pressed forward, and began to push the drunken man, until they roused his anger to such a degree that he positively refused to go on board till he chastised them as they deserved.  He had broken away from his feeble protectors, and in attempting to pursue them, had fallen flat upon the planks which covered the wharf.

Mollie ran to his assistance; and as she did so, one of the boys pushed her over upon him.  Noddy’s blood was up in earnest, for the little girl’s suffering made her sacred in his eyes.  He leaped upon the rude boy, bore him down, and pounded him till he yelled in mortal terror.  Some of the boldest of the ragamuffins came to his relief when they realized how hard it was going with him, and that he was in the hands of only one small boy.

Noddy was as quick as a flash in his movements, and he turned upon the crowd, reckless of consequences.  One or two of the boys showed fight; but the young lion tipped them over before they could make up their minds how to attack him.  The rest ran away.  Noddy gave chase, and in his furious wrath felt able to whip the whole of them.  He pursued them only a short distance; his sympathy for poor Mollie got the better even of his anger, and he hastened back to her side.  As he turned, the cowardly boys turned also, and a storm of such missiles as the wharf afforded was hurled after him.

By this time two men from the vessel had come to the assistance of the captain, and raised him to his feet.  He was still full of vengeance, and wanted to chastise the boys.  The young ruffians followed Noddy down the wharf, and he was compelled, in self-defence, to turn upon them again, and in presence of the drunken man he punished a couple of them pretty severely.  One of the sailors came to his aid, and the foe was again vanquished.  The appearance of a policeman at the head of the wharf now paralyzed their efforts, and they disbanded and scattered.

“You are a good fellow!” exclaimed Captain McClintock, extending his hand to Noddy as he returned to the spot.

“The best fellow out,” replied the little hero, facetiously, as he took the offered hand.

“So you be!  Now come on board, and ­hic ­and take something.”

“Thank you, captain.  I should like to go on board of your vessel.”

“Come along, then, my jolly fellow,” added the captain, as he reeled towards the vessel.  “You are a smart little ­hic ­you are a smart little fellow.  If you hadn’t ­hic ­licked them boys, I should ­hic.”

Noddy thought he did “hic;” but with the assistance of the sailors, the captain got on board, and went down into his cabin.  His first movement was to bring out a bottle of gin and a couple of glasses, into which he poured a quantity of the fiery liquor.  He insisted that Noddy should drink; but the boy had never tasted anything of the kind in his life; and from the lessons of Bertha and Ben he had acquired a certain horror of the cup, which had not been diminished by the incidents of the evening.  He could not drink, and he could not refuse without making trouble with his intoxicated host.

But Mollie saw his difficulty, and slyly substituted a glass of water for the gin, which he drank.  Captain McClintock was satisfied, and overcome by his last potion, he soon sank back on the locker, and dropped asleep.  With the assistance of the mate he was put into the berth in his state-room, to sleep off the effects of his debauch.

“I’m so grateful to you!” exclaimed Mollie, when all her trials seemed to have ended.

“O, never mind me.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere.”

“Have you no home?”

“No.”

“Where do you stay?”

“Anywhere.”

“Where were you going to sleep to-night?”

“Anywhere I could.”

“Then you can sleep here.”

Noddy was entirely willing, and one of the eight berths in the cabin was appropriated by the mate to his use.