Whatever Happened to Dodger?
DISCLAIMER: Believe it or not, I am not Charles Dickens. Gasp! Sorry to disappoint all of you. I assure you that most of these characters and some of the plot belongs to him, wherever he may be buried.
SUMMARY: Did you ever wonder what happened to the Dodger? Charles Dickens gladly tells us what happened to Oliver, Fagin, Charley, Nancy, and Bill, but what happened to that funny boy with the top hat who disappeared from the text around chapter 43?
A/N: I didn't want to write this chapter because I'm lazy, but Kelly made me. She gave me two warnings, which I received within one minute of each other. Then, if I still refused to write I would supposedly die, although she failed to mention how. She also gave me due dates for my chapters. This one has to be up by Wednesday. Let's hope I suddenly feel like writing seeing as it is Tuesday night already.
Chapter 2: The Journey
America was overrated. The Dodger had decided that at the start. He knew it from the moment his twelve-year-old eyes saw the coastline of his destination. He had felt nothing but hatred for the country as soon as his feet had touched the ground.
He now stood on the ship, his passage home, and looked out over the horizon. They would be awake back in America by now. They would have realized he was gone by now. They would have search teams out after him. But none of this mattered, for even if someone had seen him and could identify him to the police, there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. He was already on his way to England.
He wouldn't miss his home of the past six years, if one could even call it a home. He had had no freedom there. Wasn't that what America was about? Freedom? He had lived in a prison, literally. When he was twelve he had been caught picking pockets and sentenced to a lifetime of hard labor, and that's exactly what he got. Well, maybe not exactly.
He had done six of his years. The rest of his time was cut short, but not because of good behavior and whatnot. He had simply been lucky last night. He saw his opportunity to escape and had seized it without hesitation.
He laughed to himself as he imagined the frustration of those know-it-all guards at this very moment knowing that they had been outsmarted by a mere boy. It was all too funny. He felt no pity. That would be stupid, for if he had felt pity, he would not have run away in the first place. For the Dodger to show weakness was about as likely as it was for the sun to fall out of the sky and become extinguished in the ocean.
As for his current situation, the Artful was not pleased. He hated ships. He hated labor. Therefore, labor aboard a ship was quite possibly the worst punishment he could receive. He also hated being nice. He hadn't enjoyed being polite to the captain upon his arrival on the ship, but it was vital that he stay on his best behavior for the rest of the voyage, for if he didn't he would never make it home.
He had no possessions but the small sack of clothes and food and other small items he had managed to take from his cell mates without them noticing. Oh yes, he was still very good at picking pockets after all these years. He had been practicing, unbeknownst to his victims, and he was still very good at it. Although he could have been great by this point had he stayed in London and continued his apprenticeship under Fagin.
How he wished he had not tried to put that handkerchief back in that man's pocket. Even he had to admit that he had not been the sharpest boy of his age, but even a complete mome could tell you that what he did was stupid. He had always been very clever, but never very bright. It did not make much sense when put like this, but considering the Dodger's history it did.
All of that was in the past now, and the Dodger was going back to where he came from. America was behind him and England was ahead. There was no turning back now. He would pick up where he had left off and become a great thief. Many would remember him in years to come for what he would some day accomplish. However, at the moment he had absolutely no idea what that great accomplishment would be. Only time would tell.
"Dawkins!" he heard the captain yell. "Get your head out of the clouds and get to work."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he stomped off to his post.
He slowly began to mop the floor. Suddenly, he heard somebody scream something, but he couldn't tell what had been said over the loud rumble of thunder.
This was not good.
The clouds started to darken and the sun disappeared. The crewmembers began running in all directions. Dodger, not knowing what to do, simply leaned on his mop and watched the chaos unfold.
Men ran in every direction, securing crates and barrels, shouting directions, and lowering the sails. Meanwhile, the Dodger merely watched in amusement.
The captain seemed to notice the slacker and before long Jack Dawkins was working alongside the other men. He did what he was told without much arguing with the captain. He was determined to make it home and some storm wasn't about to stop him.
The rain was coming down it drops the size of saucers. The wind was blowing so hard that one had to strain to hear anything. It was then that the mast began to crack, making sounds as if it was going to break at any moment. The men who were at the top securing the mast began to shout for help. Some even came down. The captain then began to frantically search for someone who could help in some way shape or form. At that precise moment the wind blew a crate clear across the deck of the ship and the Dodger was forced to chase after it. The captain stopped him as he ran by after the runaway crate.
"Dawkins," he began, staring at the Dodger as though challenging him to refuse to do as he was told. "Climb up the mast and help secure the sail."
Dodger looked up the mast then back at the captain as though he was crazy.
"Me? Go up there? What's wrong with you? Why me?"
"Because you're light. You can fight the wind," was the response.
The Dodger failed to see how this was an adequate response, but complied in the end and quickly made his way to the giant wooden pole of death.
He began to climb the rope ladders, which were popping loose around him and flapping in the wind. Why was he doing this? At this rate he wasn't sure he was going to make it home at all.
He somehow managed reached the top safely where men were trying to secure the main sail in vain. It too was threatening to break loose of its binding ropes. By some twist of fate, Dodger and the others managed to secure the sail and climb back to the deck.
The storm carried on for quite some time, flooding onto parts of the ship and causing minimal damage.
Finally the storm ended and everyone managed to go about his business. The Dodger no longer saw the point in mopping the deck, so he decided to take a tour of the ship.
The voyage lasted a very long time, and they ran into just one other storm along the way. Many weeks later, when the ship approached land, the Dodger thought he could never be happier. His voyage had not been pleasant at all, but it was worth it. Right?
As the ship pulled into the harbor, the men began unloading cargo. Dodger helped until the captain called him over.
"So I suppose this is where your voyage ends, eh?" the captain asked.
Dodger tried to act as though he was at least a little bit disappointed.
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid it is."
"You're a fine boy. Not a trouble maker like most of my men."
This caused Dodger to chuckle to himself as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, which was slightly heavier than it had been when he had first left America.
The captain failed to notice this as he continued.
"Here's a bit of money for your help."
Dodger took the money without even mentioning the fact that he had offered to work for free. It would have been stupid of him not to take it. He quickly pocketed the money and thanked the captain.
He waved goodbye to the crew members and turned to see England for the first time in six years.
Now the only question was, how would he get to London?
A/N: I never did get that review I wanted, but I think I'll survive. Please read and review. You can flame me if you want, just please review! So, ignore any mistakes you may see. I was under pressure. I can't say that I was too happy with this chapter. It wasn't quite what I wanted it to be. I an also unfamiliar with ships, so pay no attention to mistakes dealing with the ship.
The play Oliver is coming to New Orleans! I'm so excited! Tickets go on sale tomorrow. I really want to go. My dad might take me if he can get tickets. The play itself won't be until November. The week it will be here is also the week of my birthday, so I might just ask that that be my birthday present if my parents decide they don't want to buy the expensive tickets.
Okay, I seriously doubt you wanted to hear all of that, but since it had to do with the story (sort of) I decided to post it. So, chapter 3 will be up next week sometime. Read and review!
