ARTHUR DRAKE

Arthur was the leader of a gang of thugs that terrorized Londoners and shop owners in that area. In his part of town no one was safe, not even the Bobbies. (British policeman)

Most folks would stay out of his way and give him and his gang a wide berth. Even the tough members of his gang were afraid of Art for often times he acted crazy. Arthur had a reputation that was dark and gloomy. He would just as soon lay waste to anyone in his way as cook a meal and eat it.

This English kid left people cringing in his wake. He enjoyed watching ladies of the upper crust flinch when he would cuss up a storm, which he did so well. His mouth often spewed out words that would turn the air blue around him and he would use detestable language in front of anyone if he thought he could use it to his advantage.

The police tried diligently to keep him and his gang away from the better side of town with very little success. When they gave him orders to leave he acted like a wild man and fought like a lion. Most of the time people who messed with him got hurt and sometimes hospitalized.

Funny though he seldom ended up in jail and laughed and made fun of those that brought him in to the lock-up. When they tried to dress him down they'd see a big ole sneer like smile break out on his face and those pure blue eyes of his he kept pretty much guarded. Art seemed to aggravate most everyone he came in contact with.

This young lad had no family and lived on the streets with other kids his own age. He had no one to guide him along life's pathway and he did as he darn well pleased. Doing those things that seemed right to keep up his image as a rough tough thug. In the beginning of his life this English kid didn't have the slightest inkling of what his last name was so he took the name of Sir Frances Drake for his own.

Arthur Drake gave most folks the willies and they shied away from him. His clothes were repulsive filthy dirty rags. English had no real place to call home and slept outside on the ground many a night. The best home he had was a small hole in the ground with a dirt floor and a dirt and tin roof. A narrow tunnel was the doorway into his little underground palace.

Down deep inside Arthur had a hankering for a better life that no one else knew about. He'd heard of the Americas and hoped some day to go there. But that was a long ways off. He was saving some money to make the trip, but it was coming pretty darn slow.

Stealing was the game that kept food in his stomach. With a stroke of luck a man from the Upper East Side became his fence and took most of what he could pilfer. This rotten scoundrel of a man raised Art's standard of living in those troubled times of his life. On certain occasions he'd give Art a list of what he needed and Arthur would get what he could. This kid had light fingers and could pick a man's pockets with the best of them. He had learned the trade from his uncle who was long dead. This English kid had perfected his trade far beyond what he had been taught.

Breaking and entering is where he got most of the things his fence needed. Four or five of his gang members would stake out a few houses in an area. When no one was home they would move on it and strip it of all they could sell and make a sovereign or two. (One-pound sterling) they had a two wheeled cart that they moved their loot with.

A knife was his weapon of choice. That kid was mighty good with the blade. He had some natural skill and quick hand speed. The boy was chain lighting and that was the key to his success. Arthur was a regular ripsnorter in the London area. When big trouble came that he couldn't handle foot speed would get him free.

At the age of seventeen Arthur Drake was learning how to play draw and stud poker in the card room. In these card games most of his money was snookered away from him, until he caught on to their treachery. What he learned from that experience is when men sit in a card game they must see a patsy sitting there or know it's them. When light finally came to him at the card table with these scumbags, Art moved into action. One man ended up in the hospital with knife wounds. Another fellow had long knife wounds on face and chest, one of those cheats had his coat ruined and the last scalawag scurried for cover and got clean away.

Shortly after that episode things began to unravel in Art's life. His fence got caught with some hot merchandise and he fingered Arthur Drake to the police as his pick-up man. Claiming he didn't know it was stolen. He told the police the man they wanted was from the lower west side and produced his name. That is all the information the London Bobbies needed, they all knew him quite well and proceed to do their duty.

Another stroke of luck came his way for Arthur heard that the Bobbies were a looking for him from a member of his gang and knew this time he was buckin' a stacked deck. The only chance he had was to clear out of town and do it quickly. For the first time in Art's life his luck had run out on him. He was in one heck of a mess and needed to skip out of there in a hurry.

He was getting his few belongings together and saying goodbye when he saw three Bobbies coming to roust him out and take him in. Like a flash that boy cut across the street, shot up the alley and lit a shuck on out of there. He had all his good duds in a carpetbag, hid out, and always ready to go at a moment's notice. The boy picked them up on his way to the waterfront.

Arthur for some time now had planned what he would do if this time ever came. He'd been formulating a plan in the back of his mind to leave this place in the dust. Today he knew it was time to put feet to his plan and leave England. Over the course of time he'd saved nigh on to a hundred pounds in cash and was thinking of America and a fresh new start there. He would steal about anything he wanted from folks along the road to the coast, that way he could pick up some more cash to tide him over once he got there. Arthur made his way toward a harbor along the coast and booked a one-way passage on a small ship that was headed for New York City in America. The ship was small but it was leaving right away.

He'd gotten free of London and the Bobbies and he felt kind of smug with himself in his narrow escape. Down deep inside ole English had a gut feeling that he was on his way to a much better life with a whole lot better prospect in New York City and the United States.

The little ship he booked passage on was the Downey Cruiser a small cargo ship (a tub) and Arthur was the only passenger on board other than the captain and his motley crew. After Art came on board the ship and just before the crew set sail the captain of this small tub was seen talking to a Bobby at the foot of the gangplank and some money changed hands.

Arthur looked like he was ready to make a jump into the scum covered water of the harbor below when the Bobby turned and walked away with never a backwards glance. Right then and there the ship's crew that saw this knew that Mr. Drake was in a whole lot of trouble for the captain was looking for a couple more mates to go along on this trip.

Everyone on board the Downey Cruiser knew that many hands made for light work. Art was a new hand and didn't even know it yet. The ship was a good day and a half out to sea when that boy's life of luxury came to an abrupt end. The captain and three men descended on his little cabin in the middle of the night and took everything of value they could find and left him with some old clothes that were left behind by some long dead sailor. Arthur was dragged kicking and fighting from his stateroom and received a whack on the head for his trouble and then thrown down into the hole of the ship, put in leg irons and for two days he got no food and only a dab of water to drink. He'd been bucking the long odds and he finally came to the end of his string.

This kid from London Town had a hostile and mean streak in him a mile wide and was brought up to be aggressive, unfriendly, resentful, conniving and shrewd in his own way.

Because of the choppy sea the poor boy was as sick as a dog and heaved his cookies all over the place. The kid was getting as weak as a kitten from all his loss of body fluids and had to be dragged up out of the hole. The Captain of the Downey Cruiser was trying to get him to submit to his authority. He didn't want him to die for he needed the extra hand. It took quite a long while for him to come around, but in the end he had to submit or die. The boy was not stupid he would bide his time and wait for a chance to jump ship and escape this rat infested tub.

I took time to study the young man really well and decided to be his friend if he would let me. This young man needed someone about now to show him the ropes and help keep him out of trouble. I let him know that we were all in the same boat and wanted off the Downey. "Son, ya got to play it cool and don't rock the boat or you'll never get a chance to shake loose of this tub."

Several members of the crew were waiting for the chance to separate themselves from this ole scow. Many of us had been shanghaied at one time or another and we spent our time in port, down in the hole of the ship. We'd been kidnapped to work on this rat infested tub on the high seas. The Downey Cruiser was sea worthy but small for an ocean going vessel and no one would hire on or stay for over one trip if at all possible.

This English kid was a fighter and held out for four days and three nights, he didn't give up easily. Even when he did you could see that he hadn't really. This stubborn kid never threw in the towel but was only playing a waiting game. He was biding his time waiting for a chance to go over the side and escape this wooden bathtub. The captain knew it and whenever we were close to land some of us were thrown into the bowels of the ship and made to help unload the merchandise from down in the hole and when we finished the doors were locked for the duration of our stay.

You could almost see the wheels turning in that tricky little mind of his; English was always looking for a way to escape. He watched the captain and first mate real close whenever we got near land and made a mental note of what they did and how they acted. He hoped to use this information later on to help him escape. There were others that were looking for a way to free themselves from the Downey.

In our travels we played with Art Drake's last name and called him things like Quack, Quack, Ducky, Gander, Mr. Duck and anything that was pulled from the last name Drake. We even used English all in good fun. Because we were good friends he took it as a joke.

His plan was to get ready to jump ship when we came close to some shoreline. After six months he got his clothes back, that were stolen from him, when he came aboard. I found out later he had some money and a knife hid out in that cabin down below.

In the early part of the voyage Arthur Drake was assigned to me to learn the ropes and be a good sailor. As time went on Arthur became a topnotch mate but he always had that far away look in his eyes. At times he was an awful fright, his nerves made him as jumpy as a frog on a hot cook stove. He didn't trust anyone aboard ship, but the four of us.

My name is Harley MacDonald, from Scotland, but most of the time I was called Big Mac. Arthur only trusted me and three others on board the Downey Cruiser, Justin Jenkins (J J.) from Pennsylvania plus Dick and Tom Ames who were from Maine. The five of us became thick as thieves and had our heads together and talked a lot.

Our main topic of conversation, when we were alone and away from the others, was always how are we were going to escape this floating prison we were on. We pretty much wanted to get free of Captain Nelson Rodgers and this slow moving, ole tub the Downey Cruiser.

We preferred an English speaking port and hoped for America. We didn't care where we departed this bathtub we just needed to get off this dinghy on to dry land. The idea was for us to disembark this little two by twice craft and become landlubbers once again. This Arthur Drake was a good worker and over the course of time he settled into the ship's routine and became a good sailor. But in the back of our minds we all knew he was looking for a way to flee this slow moving scow. I'd been shanghaied four years ago in London, England and had all but lost my will to break free of this bathtub. Way too many lashes had taken that nonsense out of me.

But this kid from London, England took each beating in stride and seemed to grow stronger with each strike of the lash. Just being around him renewed my will to abandon this ship, if I got half a chance. This wasn't a defeatist attitude I was carrying around anymore, but a will to be free. This ole sailor drew strength from watching English fight his battles; in fact he gave me the will to fight this feeling of submission. At this point in our trip English had been on board ship nigh on to two and a half years. We kept our bags packed and our paltry wages ready to go in a moment's notice. This slow moving little scow of a ship was headed for land on the west coast of the Americas. We were pretty sure that it was the west coast of California. Just before dark I climbed the rigging and saw mountains in the distance. When I came down we made preparations to leave our prison. A twelve foot dinghy was packed with our stuff and some food and water that we'd saved for this trip.

Arthur looked for and found the money he'd hid in his cabin when he first came on board. He also picked up that two edged knife he'd brought along. We had to leave the biggest share of our wages with the captain or tip our hand to our escape plans.

Two of our five man party was on watch that night and it made it easier as we left the ship and headed south. Our little lifeboat would not strike for land right off, but sail parallel to the coast for a day or so then head for shore. This we hoped wouldn't allow the captain to find us and haul us back to the Downey Cruiser and string us up by the thumbs from the yardarm. To be caught meant death by hanging.

That my friend wasn't very appetizing to any of us, so we hustled as fast as our little boat could take us. The slight breeze was in our favor and moved our little dingy right along. We put lots and lots of blue green water between our little lifeboat and that ole tub behind us as we ventured south. Two days later we struck the coastline and made an easy landing on a sandy beach. A small Mexican fishing village was our home for the next couple of days. It took us almost that long to get our land legs back and working on an even keel.

We tried to buy a couple of horses with our funny money from England but no one wanted our English paper currency. We had some gold and silver coins that would spend. We did swap the dingy for a couple of old mules and an old rusty shotgun. The nags weren't much but they belonged to us. We were about as broke as any five men can get. Even if a big ole herd of large Belgium horses had trampled us into the ground we couldn't be any more broke.

For a long month and a half we split rails for fences to earn money enough to purchase six horses to ride out of here on. That gave us six horses and a team of mules

Our English paper funny money wasn't worth very much to these people. The locals had no faith in our English currency, out here in California, so we took a beating on everything we acquired here in California.

We sailor boys were all as green as grass; only three of us had ever ridden a horse before. The Mexican rancher and his caballeros got a good laugh as they watched these greenhorn swabbies try to mount these green-broke horses. We ended up on the ground on our backs way to many times in the next day or so. We finally got the hang of it or the mounts were tired of us climbing onto their backs.

With a little instruction and lots of bumps, bruises and bangs we were ready to leave and head inland to a new life. We had no idea what was ahead of us out there in this wild, vacant and desolate land. We had heard that Indians covered the land from the east coast to the Pacific Ocean and most were unfriendly. They told us we must head inland right away to avoid capture by the law and the Captain of the Downey Cruiser. We were five men on the dodge and we looked like it. But first we must try to exchange the remaining English monies for American currency. For that job we needed a fairly large town with a good size bank and not too far from the coast.