CHAPTER VII.
THE VISIT TO THE HOLD.
"I don't attend any meeting with those fellows," said the prudent Hyde, as the rebels began to gather at the place indicated.
"There is no harm in hearing what they have to say," replied Lindsley.
"I don't care what they have to say. I won't have anything to do with them. In my opinion they are trying to get us all into a scrape."
"You are in one now, and you may as well be hung for an old sheep as a lamb."
"I would rather be hung for a lamb," answered Hyde, turning on his heel, and walking as far from the foremast as the limits of the steerage would permit.
About a dozen others followed his example, for the meeting was understood to be called by the runaways, who represented the most virulent type of rebellion. They had already lost all their privileges for the season, which could be restored only by the grace of the principal, and they had nothing to sacrifice. It was not prudent to enter into their counsels, and the mildest rebels, like Hyde and Johnson, avoided them.
"We are not making much on this tack," said Howe, when the rebels, who chose to take part in the meeting, had assembled.
"That's so!" exclaimed Lindsley.
"Well, what's to be done? That's the next question."
"Nothing," added Raymond, who dreaded any extreme measures, and did not mean that Howe's party should obtain control of the movement. "As I understand the matter, all is going on right. We have only to hold out, and everything will end well for us."
"But we are shut up in the steerage. We are prisoners. The tables are turned upon us," replied Howe.
"Not at all. We have carried our point so far. We refused to do duty, and we haven't done any. I am in favor of fighting it out in this manner to the end."
"It is a milk-and-water affair as it is now, and won't amount to anything."
"What's the reason it won't?" demanded the champion of the mild party.
"Suppose the main hatch were opened, and the boatswain should call all hands—how many of us do you suppose would be left? There are a dozen of your chickens that would back down so quick it would make your eyes smart," added the champion of the intense party, pointing to the group which had collected around Hyde, who appeared to be forming a party of his own. "And the next time the call was made, a lot more would slump. Before long we should be so reduced in numbers that the brig would hold us all, and a few of us would have to stand the punishment for the sins of the crowd. You led us into the scrape; now you must help us out of it."
"Who led you into it?" asked Raymond, indignantly.
"You and your fellows, of course," retorted the heavy champion.
"I don't see it."
"Don't you? Then you are as green as a tame pigeon," continued Howe, smartly. "Our fellows—of course you know I mean those who ran away in the Josephine—are under the ban already. Did you suppose we were going into an affair like this alone? Not much! We went in because you did; to back up your movement. Now we are in it, you want to back out, and let your fellows show the white feather."
"I don't mean to back out," protested Raymond.
"But those fellows out there do," added the wily rogue.
"Well, there are thirty of us here, who will stick to the end. What do you say, fellows?"
"Of course we will," replied several, very mildly.
"Will you agree, upon your word and honor, to stick as long as any one does?"
"That depends upon circumstances," interposed Lindsley.
"I suppose it does," sneered Howe. "It isn't fair to leave us to bear the brunt of the whole."
"All we ever proposed to do was simply to refuse to do duty till we had explained our position to the principal," added Raymond.
"And kiss the rod, whether you get fair play or not," replied Howe.
"We can't do anything more than that. When the principal understands that over forty of us are dissatisfied, we have gained our point."
"Have you indeed!" flouted Howe. "Then I fancy you have already gained it, for he has found out that you are dissatisfied by this time."
"Well, what do you want to do?" demanded Raymond.
"It's no use to mince the matter. We have made a failure of it so far. The lambs on deck are having a good time, laughing, cheering, and carrying on—making game of us, no doubt, while we are shut up here as prisoners," replied Howe, rolling up his sleeves, as though he intended to do something savage. "We ought to make ourselves felt, which we haven't done yet, for the rest of the ship's company seem to regard our movement as a good joke, and to think we are having the worst of it. Well, I think we are; and we must make ourselves felt."
"Do you call it making yourselves felt when you are pounded on the head with belaying pins, as you were in the Josephine?" inquired Lindsley, dryly.
"We raised a breeze there, and we are bound to do it here."
"A breeze that first knocks you down yourself. I would rather have the wind blow another way," added Raymond.
"I don't mean to get up a fight, or anything of that sort."
"Well, what do you mean?" asked Raymond, impatiently.
"We have plans of our own; but we are not going to disclose them till we have some assurance that the other fellows will stand by us," answered the cautious leader of the intense party. "We are going to make ourselves felt."
"We are not going to agree to anything without knowing what it is," said Lindsley.
"And we are not going to let on to fellows that may go to the principal, and blow the whole thing. I will say this: If your fellows will pledge themselves, word and honor, to stand by us to the end, I will agree that the ship shall return to Havre, or some other port in France, within twenty-four hours, and that the tables shall be turned in our favor."
"How are you going to do it?" asked Lindsley.
"Leave that to me. I have a plan which cannot fail. Do the fair thing by us, and we will get you out of the scrape."
"I will agree to this, and nothing more: I will stand out till we have a chance to be heard," replied Raymond, who began to have some hope of the mysterious movements of Howe. "I will do nothing but stand out."
"We don't ask you to do anything else. We will do the rest, if you back us up."
"We don't back you up, for we don't even know what you are going to do."
"We will tell you what we are going to do."
"Hold on! Perhaps we had better not know anything about it," interposed Raymond.
"No, you don't!" exclaimed Howe. "We will tell those who will take the oath."
"The oath!" ejaculated Lindsley. "Are we joining the Knights of the Golden Fleece?"
"No, no! I mean the promise," answered Howe, impatiently. "Word and honor—that's all I want."
The runaway portion of the rebels were doubtless already familiar with the extraordinary means which was to turn the ship back to the ports of France. The others, who attended the meeting, were largely influenced by curiosity. They were intensely mortified at the defeat, which they were unwilling to acknowledge. It would afford them immense satisfaction to have the tables turned in their favor; but they were utterly unable to imagine what powerful machinery Howe and his associates could bring to bear upon the obdurate principal; how they were to compel him to put the ship about, and return to France.
The mild party retired to consider whether it would be prudent for them to enter into a compact of this description with such dangerous characters as the runaways. They were prejudiced against the measure, but victory in the undertaking, in which they had engaged, was so earnestly coveted, that they were tempted to join hands even with Howe, Little, Wilton, and other desperate fellows. When a person has once gone astray, the inducements to go farther increase. But Raymond and his friends were not quite willing to pledge themselves in advance to measures which they were not allowed to understand; and they finally agreed to bind themselves to secrecy, in regard to the nature of the scheme, if Howe would explain it on these terms, and then engage in it if it were not too wicked. The party returned to the foremast, and Raymond stated their position.
"That won't go down," promptly replied Howe, with his bullying, self-sufficient air. "We are to tell you what our plan is, and let you adopt it or not, as you please! No, sir!"
"We pledge ourselves beforehand to keep your secret, whether we join with you or not."
"We won't trust you."
"Very well," added Raymond, decidedly. "Nothing more need be said. Come, fellows."
The leader of the mild party turned on his heel, and moved aft, followed by his adherents.
"What do you suppose they mean to do?" asked Lindsley, as they halted under the skylight, near the middle of the steerage.
"I don't know; but it must be something desperate to compel the principal to put back," replied Raymond. "It may be to make a few auger-holes in the bottom of the ship."
"I wouldn't do anything of that sort," added Lindsley, shaking his head.
"No matter what it is; we offered to do the fair thing."
"Suppose you had agreed to keep still, and they had proposed to bore holes in the bottom of the ship; would you have kept your promise, and said nothing about it?" asked Lindsley.
"I would not have let them do it; and then there would have been nothing to conceal," answered Raymond.
"Precisely so! That's a good idea. Why not agree to their proposition, and then, if they mean to do anything which endangers the ship, we can easily prevent them from doing it," said Lindsley, who was exceedingly curious to know what the runaways wished to do.
Others were affected with the same desire, and their curiosity was rapidly overcoming their prudence. While they were discussing the question, Hyde and his party, seeing that Raymond and his associates had withdrawn from the runaways, came to the spot, and disturbed the conference with irrelevant questions. If all the mild mutineers could be induced to cling together, they could easily overrule Howe and his party. Just then, there was not that unity which alone insures success. There were actually three parties in the steerage, and it was necessary to reconcile them, or the rebellion would end in an ignominious failure. But this was found to be quite impossible, so far as Hyde and his party were concerned; for if the boatswain's call had sounded at that moment, they would have returned to their duty, if permitted to do so. Raymond would not consent to make terms with Howe, without the concurrence of all the others, including Hyde.
Howe was quite as much disgusted with the situation as any of the milder rebels. He had hoped and expected to drag them into any desperate scheme which might be adopted, and after Raymond and his party retired, he looked rather blankly at his friends.
"They are nothing but babies—little spoonies!" said he, contemptuously. "It isn't safe to do anything with them."
"Nor without them," suggested Spencer.
"I don't believe that," added Little. "They are in for it already. They will be held responsible for anything done below, as well as we. Let's go on with the job, just as we intended."
After considerable discussion, the suggestion of the little villain was adopted, with a modification, however, proposed by himself, by which the whole party were to be implicated in the mischief. No time was to be lost, for a portion of the faithful, who appeared still to be having a good time on deck, would soon come below to turn in. Howe and Little went to the main scuttle, which opened into the hold, and raised it.
"What are you going to do?" asked Raymond.
"We are going to hide in the hold, just for the fun of the thing," replied Little. "Won't you come down with us?"
"That's not a bad idea," suggested Lindsley. "When they come down to look for us, they won't find us. That will make a sensation, at least, and then we shall not be entirely ignored."
"Are you going to stay there all night?" inquired Raymond.
"Yes—why not?" answered Lindsley. "It is not quite so comfortable a place to sleep as the mess-rooms; but we can stand it for one night."
Even the mild rebels, Hyde and Johnson, were pleased with the plan, for it looked like an adventure. The persuasions of Lindsley induced them to yield whatever scruples they had. It would be a rich thing to have the principal or the officers come down into the steerage, and find it empty. There was still a chance to make the principal do something, even if it were only to call them up for punishment; for anything seemed better than being entirely ignored.
Little and Howe, each with a lantern in his hand, which he had taken from the lamp-room forward, led the way into the hold. All the members of the three parties followed; the mild rebels regarding the movement rather as a piece of fun than as anything which added to the guilt they had already incurred. When the last one had descended the ladder, Howe put on the scuttle, and the steerage was "like some banquet hall deserted," for the stewards were either on deck or in the kitchen, where they spent their leisure hours.
As soon as the rebels were all in the hold, they separated into three parties again, as they had been in the steerage. Little, with his lantern, went forward, where he was soon joined by the rest of the runaways; Hyde and his companions went aft; and Raymond's party remained near the main scuttle. The hold was divided into store-rooms, forward and aft, while the space amidships was devoted to the stowage of boxes, barrels, water casks, and other articles. The water tanks were near the heel of the foremast, where Howe and his party had located themselves. They contained the entire supply of the ship, while she was going from port to port, or lying in harbor. They had been fitted up under the direction of Mr. Lowington. The water was drawn from them by means of a pump in the kitchen, the pipe of which could be adjusted to either of them with screw connections.
"We must do the job quick, and get out of this place, or we may be fastened down here, as we were in the steerage," said Little, in a low tone, though he need not have troubled himself to use this precaution, for the dashing of the sea against the side of the vessel made so much noise, that those who were twenty feet distance could not have heard him.
"Are you sure we are not burning our own fingers?" asked Ibbotson. "My experience in the Josephine, when we were short of water, taught me what it was to be without it, especially when you have to feed on salt horse and hard bread."
"That's so," added Spencer.
"Can't we save some for ourselves?" inquired Wilton.
"What's the use? We shall return to Havre as soon as the officers find that the water tanks are empty," added Little.
"But why not save some?" persisted Wilton. "There are lots of bottles on the ballast, and a tunnel on the vinegar barrel. Hurry up, and fill a bottle for each fellow."
A dozen of the rebels rushed aft, and procured the bottles, while Little started the faucets which were used in drawing off the water, when it was necessary to clean out the tanks, or for use when the pump above was out of order. This was the precious scheme by which the intense rebels intended to compel the principal to return to port immediately. There could be no doubt that it would be an effectual one, for with no fresh water the ship could not remain a single day at sea without causing great discomfort, if not actual suffering, to those on board. This happy expedient had been devised by Little, and it was diabolical enough to be the invention of his fertile genius.
The bottles were brought up, and with the aid of the tunnel, a dozen and a half of them were filled—just enough for the Howe party, for they did not intend to look out for the comfort of those who would not fully join them in their plans. The water rushed from the tanks, and flowed away into the ballast underneath. The faucets were large, and in a short time the tanks were empty. As the ship rolled each way, almost the last drop in them was poured out.
"Now let us get out of here before we are fastened in," said Little, after he had adjusted the faucets.
"There will be a sweet row when they find out the tanks are empty," added Howe, fully believing that the party had now done something to make themselves felt.
"It will please me to hear them howl," continued Wilton.
"Keep your bottles out of sight," said Howe. "Don't let those fellows see them, or they will smell a mice."
"Don't you suppose they know what we have been doing?" inquired Monroe.
"How should they? The swashing of the sea made so much noise they couldn't hear the water running out," answered Little.
"Don't let on."
The party concealed their bottles under their clothing, and moved towards the ladder by which they had descended.
"What were you doing with all those bottles?" asked Raymond.
"What bottles?" demanded Little.
"We saw you take a lot of bottles from the ballast there," replied Raymond, whose party had been discussing the probable use to which they were to be applied, though they reached no satisfactory conclusion.
"Well, I'll tell you what they were for," answered Little. "We were going to have some fun, pelting them with stones, just as we used to play duck on shore, you know; but we concluded not to do so, lest the stewards in the kitchen should hear the noise, and make a row about it—that's all."
"Where are you going now?" inquired Lindsley, who was not quite satisfied with this lucid explanation—as though fellows engaged in a mutiny would care to amuse themselves pelting bottles!
"We have just made up our minds that it is not quite safe to stay down here any longer."
"Why not?"
"Suppose they should fasten us in?"
"Suppose they should? I thought you intended to stay down here," said Raymond, who concluded that the runaways were very fickle in their purposes.
"We did intend to do so; but we hadn't looked over all the ground. It has just occurred to us that the thirty lambs, who kiss the rod that smites them, would not come into the steerage to-night. It will take about the whole of them to stand watch, and if any of them go below, they will sleep on the floor of the main and after cabins, where they cannot be corrupted by such wicked fellows as you and I, Raymond. So, you see, if we can't get up any sensation by sleeping on the ballast, what's the use of making yourself uncomfortable for nothing. That's the idea. Let us go into the steerage, and turn in for the night."
"I don't believe in backing out," said Raymond, not very well pleased to hear Little class him with himself.
"Don't back out, then, my dear fellow. Stay here all night, and have a good time," added the little villain, as he ascended the ladder, and opened the scuttle.
"I'm not going to stay here if the rest don't," interposed Lindsley; and all the Howe party followed the runaways.
Hyde's party, seeing that all the others were retreating, came to the ladder, and asked for an explanation. Howe replied that the runaways were sick of the game, and had returned to the steerage; and the third squad followed the example of the other two. The hold was left as empty of human beings as the tanks were of water.
By this time the watch on deck had been stationed, and the rest of the crew were permitted to retire. As there was no danger that the mutineers would escape from the ship, the grating was removed from the main hatch; but a portion of the watch, including Peaks and the head steward, were posted near it, to prevent any seaman not wearing the white ribbon of the Order of the Faithful from coming on deck. Fifteen of the thirty who had done their duty came below to turn in. Their appearance created a sensation among the disaffected. Now they would ascertain what had been said on deck about their refusal to answer the call. Now they could hear, second-handed, the sermon which the principal had preached, and which they had heard the faithful applaud. Now, they could learn what terrible fate had been marked out for the rebels.
When the faithful came into the steerage, the first thing the rebels noticed was the white ribbons which adorned their breasts. Of course they wanted to know what it meant; but they felt a little embarrassed under the circumstances, and did not like to ask direct questions at first. They wished and expected the faithful to open the subject by telling them what a mistake they had made in not being "good." But the lambs did not say a word to them; did not appear to notice them, or to indicate by their actions that any unusual event was in progress on board. There was a great deal of silent skirmishing in the steerage. Raymond, who had always been pretty intimate with Tremere, as they both berthed in the same mess-room, continually threw himself in the way of the latter, in order to tempt him to speak of the evening's occurrences. Tremere was as silent as a marble statue, though he looked as composed and good-natured as ever; indeed, rather more so than usual.
"How's the weather on deck, Tremere?" finally asked Raymond, when no hint would induce the faithful one to speak first.
"It looks like a change. I shouldn't wonder if all hands were called to furl top-gallant sails and reef topsails before eight bells," answered Tremere.
"How did you get along working ship?"
"For further particulars, inquire of the principal," replied he.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Speech is silver, silence is golden."
"Humph!" sneered Raymond, puzzled by the singular replies of his friend.
"Yours truly," laughed Tremere.
"Why don't you speak?"
"I haven't learned my piece."
"You have learned a piece of impudence."
"'He that hath but impudenceTo all things has a fair pretence.'"
"'He that hath but impudenceTo all things has a fair pretence.'"
"'He that hath but impudence
To all things has a fair pretence.'"
"Are you mad, Tremere?"
"'Though this be madness, yet there's method in it.'"
"Quit your quotations! What's that on your coat?"
"A coat-ation."
"If you are mad with me, Tremere, say so."
"'I am not mad! no, no, I am not mad!'" shouted the member of the Order of the Faithful, with appropriate gestures and expression.
"Come, quit fooling! Can't you talk sense?"
"I can and will; for
"'Want of decency is want of sense.'
"'Want of decency is want of sense.'
"'Want of decency is want of sense.'
"'In college halls, in ancient times, there dweltA sage called Discipline.'"
"'In college halls, in ancient times, there dweltA sage called Discipline.'"
"'In college halls, in ancient times, there dwelt
A sage called Discipline.'"
"But you didn't go to school to the old fellow, Raymond."
"I believe you have lost your wits! Now, be reasonable, and talk like a sensible fellow. What is this?" asked Raymond, putting his finger on the white ribbon.
"A ribbon."
"What is it for?"
"For me."
"Who gave it to you?"
"The person who had it next before I did."
"Humph! How silly you are! Where did you get it?"
"On deck."
"But who gave it to you."
"The donor thereof."
"Who is the donor thereof."
"The one who gave it to me."
"If you won't answer me, say so. Don't try to make a fool of me."
"I usurp not nature's kindly office."
"Do you mean to insult me?"
"No; I mean to turn in, for I may be called before I have had my snooze out;" and Tremere, yawning as if he were bored and very indifferent, walked into the mess-room which contained his berth.
Those who had listened to the conversation were very much amused by it, and the rest of the Faithful took their cue from Tremere. Not one of them would answer a question or give a particle of information in regard to what had transpired on deck. All of them appeared to be astonishingly good-natured, and no one seemed to be disconcerted by the rebellion, except the rebels.
CHAPTER VIII.
SHORT OF WATER.
"They may play bluff as much as they like; but you had better believe there will be a sensation in the morning, if not before," said Howe,—after the fifteen members of the Order of the Faithful had retired to their rooms,—addressing Raymond, who manifested no little vexation at the cavalier manner in which he had been treated by his friend and messmate.
"What will that be?" asked the milder rebel.
"Wait, and you will see," replied Howe, mysteriously. "We didn't go down into the hold for nothing."
"What did you go down for?"
"You will find out soon."
"Well, I want you to understand that I didn't have anything to do with your plots and schemes," added Raymond, cautiously.
"You didn't! Who said you didn't? I say, Raymond, you are a good fellow to kiss the hand that smites you; and I hope you will keep on kissing it. What did you try to pump Tremere for, after you saw what he was up to?"
"I wanted to know what he was up to."
"Don't you know? It is a game of bluff. Those fellows pretend to be indifferent to what we are doing."
"They certainly seem to be very indifferent. Have you any idea what that white ribbon means?"
"Have I? Certainly I have. Can't you see through the side of the ship, when there's a port in it? That ribbon is to distinguish the lambs from the black sheep, like you and me."
"Pooh! What's the use of that?"
"So that the officers can tell them in the dark as well as at noonday. But Little has given those fellows a name already. He calls them the White Feathers. We must laugh at them, make game of them, whip them with their own weapons. Hark!" said Howe, suddenly turning his head towards the kitchen, near the door of which they stood.
"What's the matter?"
"They are trying the pump," replied Howe, as both of them plainly heard the sucking, "squilching" noise made by the copper pump, from which the cook was trying to draw water from the tanks below.
"What of it?" demanded Raymond, who did not see anything remarkable in the circumstance.
"Never mind; you will find out soon enough," answered the chief runaway, as he left his companion thoroughly mystified, and not a little alarmed; for it was evident that some terrible mischief had been perpetrated.
The pump sucked and groaned under the efforts of the cook, who had been directed to make a pot of coffee for the use of the watch, and was now trying to obtain water for that purpose. None would come, and it was plain to him that the pump was out of order. Taking a bucket and a lantern, he passed into the steerage, and opened the scuttle. The runaways observed him with intense interest; for the time had come when they were to "make themselves felt." The cook went down into the hold, and was absent about a quarter of an hour. He returned with an empty bucket in his hand, and hastened on deck with the alarming intelligence that the water tanks were all empty, which he communicated to the head steward.
As the tanks had been filled just before the ship left the dock at Havre, the head steward was not willing to believe the startling report. He went into the hold himself with the cook. By this time the runaways thought it prudent to keep out of sight, and all of them retired to their rooms, and most of them to their berths. The head steward tried the tanks, and was satisfied with the truth of the report. When the ship rolled, the faucets on the lee side poured out a few drops of water. Sounded with a mallet, the tanks gave forth only a hollow, empty sound. The steward was astonished and mortified at the discovery, for he was responsible for keeping the ship supplied with water, as well as with all other necessaries in the culinary department. He inquired very particularly in regard to the state of the faucets when the cook had first come below to draw water, and was assured that they were firmly closed. He lifted up some of the ballast, and saw that it was wet. He went to the well, where all the leakage of the ship is collected to be thrown up by the pumps.
The ship was regularly pumped out twice a day, and this duty had been performed just before the crew were piped to supper. There should have been but little water in the well; but there was enough to satisfy the head steward that the contents of the water tanks had flowed into it. Dipping one of his fingers into the water, he tasted it, and its freshness was another convincing proof of the fact.
"Has any one but the cooks and stewards been in the hold?" he inquired.
"Not that I know of," replied the cook. "I haven't been out of the kitchen since supper."
"Over forty of the students have been in the steerage since the ship sailed."
"The stewards told me that the boys were standing out."
"In my opinion, some of them have been in the hold, and started those faucets."
"You don't think they'd do that—do you?" exclaimed the cook.
"Some of them would sink the ship, if they dared. I think the principal did not manage this affair just right. He ought to have seized the young rascals up to the rigging, and kept them there till they were ready to do duty without grumbling. Now let us see if there is water in any of the casks."
"No, sir; the boatswain broke 'em out, and cleaned the casks, while we were in the dock."
The head steward took the mallet, and sounded upon the head of each cask. They were all empty; and it was clear enough that there was not a drop of fresh water in the hold, except that which was already mingled with the foul bilge-water under the ballast. The ship was going to sea, and both clouds and barometer indicated heavy weather. The steward was troubled, and immediately hastened to the principal with the alarming intelligence. He found Mr. Lowington in the main cabin, and announced the discovery he had made.
"It is a scheme to drive the ship back to port," added the principal, after he had satisfied himself, by questioning the steward, that the tanks had really been filled while the ship was in the dock.
"Well, sir, it seems to me that the plan must be successful," added the steward, with a grim smile.
"Doubtless it will be; but we will not return to Havre. We shall be off Cherbourg in the morning, and we will make a harbor there. But there must be some water on board."
"Only what is in the water-jars, sir. Possibly there are ten or fifteen gallons in all of them."
There was a large water jar in the steerage, and one in each of the two cabins, which had been filled just before the ship sailed. The steward was directed to draw them off, and save the water, to be dealt out as sparingly as the emergency might require. There were several tons of ice in the store-room, which had been filled at Havre; and there was no danger of any suffering for the want of the needed element. The principal went on deck with the steward, and observed that the wind was freshening, with a decidedly nasty look to windward. It might not be possible to go into Cherbourg the next morning with safety; and Mr. Lowington did not like the idea of being driven into port before the mutiny had been suppressed. The Josephine was half a mile to windward, under easy sail; and, in the present state of the sea, it was an easy matter to communicate with her, as it might not be a few hours later. He therefore explained the situation to Captain Shuffles,—who was still on deck with Grace and Paul, too nervous and too anxious to retire,—and directed him to call all hands.
The boatswain piped the call. Peaks and the head steward at the main hatch, in accordance with their instructions, would permit none who did not wear the white ribbon of the Order of the Faithful to come on deck. Hyde and his party proposed to return to their duty. They had had mutiny enough, and their leader, speaking for the whole, asked permission to be reported to the principal. The steward bore the message to him, while the twelve penitents waited at the ladder. The runaways remained in their rooms; but Raymond made an ineffectual effort to induce them to be firm.
"Come up!" said Peaks, when the principal appeared at the hatch, and gave the order.
"We wish to return to our duty, sir," Hyde began; "we are very sorry for our disobedience, and are willing to take the consequences."
"How many of you are there?" asked Mr. Lowington.
"Twelve in our party, sir."
"Will you conform, in every respect, to the requirements of the present occasion?"
"We will, sir."
"But they must join the order," interposed Grace, who had accompanied Paul to the waist. "They are not entitled to the white ribbon, for they have come in at the eleventh hour."
Mr. Lowington smiled, and directed the penitents to repair to the quarter-deck.
"I am so glad they have yielded!" said Grace.
"So am I. You can let them take the second degree to-night," laughed Paul.
"Yes; and that shall be a blue ribbon. The next ones that come shall have the yellow ribbon, and be the first degree. That's all the different colors I have," added Grace, as she hastened to her state-room to procure the material for the decoration of the penitents, who were standing before the principal, abaft the mizzen-mast.
"Are you really sorry for what you have done, or do you back out because your plan does not work well?" asked the principal of the delinquents.
"I am really sorry for it, sir," answered Hyde; and there is not a doubt that he spoke the simple truth.
"Have you been into the hold this evening?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hyde, promptly.
"For what purpose?"
"We only went because the others did; but we did not stay there long."
"Have you meddled with the water tanks?"
"No, sir."
"Has any one?"
"I do not know, sir. Down in the steerage, we were divided into three parties, because we did not agree very well;" and Hyde explained the views of each party, and the localities which they had occupied during their visit to the hold.
Mr. Lowington readily comprehended the object of the runaways, when they induced the other two parties to visit the hold. In fact, he saw the whole truth just as it was; that the Howe party had made the mischief from the beginning, and that the others were the victims of their cunning schemes. He believed that his plan was working well, since it was eliminating the comparatively innocent from the guilty.
"You may return to your duty, on this condition—that you have no communication with either the Howe or the Raymond party," added Mr. Lowington. "You will not inform them in regard to anything which has transpired, or may transpire, on deck. Do you accept the conditions?"
"I do, certainly, sir," replied Hyde.
Others gave the required pledge, astonished to be restored to their duty on such mild terms. They took their stations with the crew. But Grace Arbuckle soon appeared with the blue ribbons, and Hyde was conducted to her by the commodore.
"I confer upon you the second degree of the Order of the Faithful, and decorate you with the blue ribbon. When you have proved yourself faithful to your duty, and worthy of promotion, you will be advanced to the third degree, the emblem of which is the white ribbon," said Grace, as she pinned the decoration upon his breast.
"Thank you," replied Hyde, rather bewildered by the ceremony.
The rest of the penitents were brought up, and, in like manner, initiated into the Order of the Faithful. Of course they wanted to know more about it, and the new organization was explained to them.
"I'm glad you backed out, Hyde," said Tremere. "When are the rest coming?"
"I don't know that they are coming at all. I got enough of it."
"What do those fellows want to do?"
"Get their rights."
"Well, they'll get them when they return to their duty, and not before, unless it is the right to be punished for their disobedience," added Tremere.
"I still think it was not fair to give up the trip to the Rhine, after the promise that we should go, though it was a great mistake of mine to refuse to do duty," added Hyde.
"Who says the trip is given up?"
"All the fellows;" and Hyde rehearsed the arguments which had been used to sustain the proposition.
"As you are now a member of the Order of the Faithful, you may know its secrets," laughed Tremere. "Mr. Lowington made an explanation to those who did not take the law into their own hands;" and he proceeded to give the substance of this statement.
Hyde was all the more disgusted with the course he and his friends had adopted, and was fully resolved to do his duty in future, whatever his personal opinions might be. The mildest of the mutineers were thus disposed of, and a dozen pair of hands added to the force of the ship.
While this conversation was in progress, the Young America had been headed towards the Josephine. Peaks had fired one of the guns on the forecastle, which was the signal, in the night, for the consort to heave to. Hyde's party had been restored to their several stations, while the volunteer officers still filled the places of those who did not answer the boatswain's call. The Josephine promptly obeyed the signal, and the ship ran up to her, as near as it was prudent to go, backed her main-topsail, lying to on her quarter. The first cutter was manned and lowered, vacancies in her crew being filled with the stoutest hands available. A dozen breakers, or kegs, used for boat service, were put on board, and with Peaks to assist in the stowage, the cutter shoved off, and pulled for the schooner.
The officer in charge of the boat explained to Mr. Fluxion what had occurred on board of the ship, and the twelve breakers, with six more belonging to the consort, were filled and stowed in the boat, which returned without delay to the Young America. The cutter was hoisted up, and again the squadron stood on its course. The new supply of water was immediately secured under lock and key, in one of the store-rooms. The quantity was still very meagre, being hardly enough for two days' consumption on full allowance. The watch below was again dismissed. It included one half of the penitents, who were beset by Raymond's party with questions and abuse; but they were true to their pledge, and the rebels were none the wiser.
The noise of the gun and of the lowering of the cutter had been heard by the runaways, and the appearance of the eighteen breakers, as they were passed down into the hold, was the assurance of another failure to them.
"We are dished," said Monroe, as the forward officer passed down the kegs.
"Perhaps we are, and perhaps we are not," replied Howe. "The end hasn't come yet."
"I suppose there is room enough in the run for the contents of all those breakers," added Little.
"Hyde and the rest of those babies have returned to their duty," continued Monroe, who was always the first to despond.
"No matter for that; we will keep on this tack till something happens," persisted Howe. "By this time we are pretty sure of being left behind when the fellows go to Germany; and for my part, as Fluxion is going away, I think that is the best thing that can happen to us. We shall find a chance to strike out on our own hook."
But the arrival of the water breakers carried consternation to the runaways, whatever they said and did. They were tired of the battle, though, if any of them had a thought of repentance, they subdued it. Raymond's party were angry at the defection of Hyde and his associates, and the future looked dark and hopeless, so far as remedial agencies were concerned, but their pride still prompted them to hold out. Wearied with anxiety and hope deferred, they turned in as the night advanced.
At eight bells, all hands were called again. The wind was blowing half a gale, and the starboard watch had taken in the light sails. It was deemed advisable still further to shorten sail, and a reef was put in the topsails. The starboard watch then turned in, the port having the deck till four in the morning. The wind came in heavy gusts from the south-west, and shortly after midnight it began to veer to the west, which brought up a dense fog. At four bells in the mid watch, the wind came square from the west in heavy squalls. The ship went about, and stood to the southward, the principal intending to go into Cherbourg if the weather would permit.
At eight bells, when the morning watch was called, another reef was put in the topsails. At daylight the fog was too dense to think of making a port, and the ship tacked again. There was a heavy sea running, but everything went along very well. Captain Shuffles remained on deck all night, but no emergency occurred which required the exercise of more than ordinary skill and energy. The wind was blowing a gale, though not a very severe one. All the students on board had been in worse weather, and it produced no excitement whatever.
At seven bells in the morning, the port watch was called to breakfast, according to the regular routine of the ship. The meal consisted of coffee, beefsteak, fried potatoes, and the rolls which had been baked the preceding afternoon. Peaks and the head steward were in the steerage, and when some of the runaways appeared, and attempted to seat themselves at the mess tables, they were forbidden to do so. Only those decorated with white or blue ribbons were allowed to breakfast. At eight bells the port watch went on deck, and the starboard, relieved from duty, came down to their morning meal, when the tables had been reset. A fresh supply of hot steaks and potatoes was brought from the kitchen, for the breakfast of each watch was cooked separately, and they fared precisely as the other watch had. The rebels were still excluded from the mess tables, and violent was the grumbling thereat.
When the regular breakfast was finished, the tables were again cleared, and the mutineers began to think they were to be starved into subjection; but they were mistaken, in part, at least, for the tables were again set. This time there were no hot beefsteaks, no fresh rolls, no fried potatoes, no coffee—nothing but cold corned beef and hard tack. None of the cooks or stewards said anything, no one made any remarks of any kind. There was the breakfast—salt junk and hard tack—regular sailor's fare. The head steward mildly indicated that breakfast was ready for those who had not already been served. The two parties of rebels seated themselves, and turned up their noses at the fare.
"Steward, bring me a mug of coffee," shouted Howe to the nearest waiter.
"It takes water to make coffee," replied the man, solemnly, and as he had doubtless been instructed to answer.
"What if it does? Bring me some coffee," repeated Howe, angrily.
"No coffee for this crowd," interposed the head steward, as solemnly.
"But I'm going to have my coffee," added Wilton, whose temper was not the sweetest in the world, as he rose from his stool, and rushed towards the kitchen door.
"Avast, my lad!" said Peaks, taking the rebel by the collar with no gentle force. "It takes water to make coffee."
Wilton was afraid of the boatswain, for there was a tradition on board that he had, on one occasion, laid hands upon a refractory boy, and he was evidently in the steerage for a purpose. He skulked back to his place at the table.
"Can't I have some coffee?" demanded Raymond, of the head steward, when that official came near his seat.
"You cannot."
"Why not?"
"Because it takes water to make coffee."
"What of that?"
"Owing to circumstances, the supply of water on board is rather short," answered the head steward, as solemnly as before.
"That's nothing to do with me. I didn't start the water tanks."
"I obey orders, and don't argue with any one; but there's an old saying that a man is known by the company he keeps, and I suppose a boy is, too."
The steward passed on, and refused to answer any more questions.
"If we can't have coffee, give us some water," said Lindsley.
"Water is water," replied the steward.
The rebels were hungry, and they ate, though very sparingly, of the unpalatable food which was set before them. Like most other boys belonging to "the first families," they did not relish corned beef at any time; and that before them, though of excellent quality, was very salt, having been a long time in the brine. They partook of the beef and the hard bread simply because there was nothing else with which to satisfy their hunger. Some of them wanted to "make a row" about the fare; but Peaks was a very formidable obstacle in the way of any such demonstration. They ate what they could, rather than what they wanted, and retreated to their mess-rooms.
"Well, what do you think now?" said Lindsley, as he threw himself into his berth.
Raymond only shook his head and grated his teeth.
"I think we are sold, and the sooner we back down, the better," added Lindsley.
"I won't back down!" snapped Raymond, savagely.
"How long do you think you can eat salt horse, without any water to wash it down?"
"I can stand it till I die!"
"I don't think it is worth while to stand it quite so long as that."
"I do! What right has the principal to deny us even a drop of water?"
"What right have we to stand out, and refuse to do our duty? Howe's fellows started the water tanks, and—"
"We didn't do it!" interrupted Raymond, savagely. "I won't stand it."
Rushing out into the steerage, he went to the water jar, in one corner. It was empty, though there was a breaker of water on deck for the use of the Faithful, who were thirsty. He was mad, and ready for desperate steps. He hastened to the mess-room of Howe, and entered just as that worthy was taking a draught from the bottle he had filled at the tanks the evening before.
"What's that?" demanded he.
"Water," replied Howe, good-naturedly.
"Give us a drink—will you? I'm almost choked," asked Raymond, glad to see that there was still an alternative.
"No, I thank you," answered Howe, putting the stopper back into the bottle. "We don't do the heavy jobs, and then provide for those who are too cowardly to help us."
"We are in the same boat with you; and it isn't fair to let our fellows suffer while you have water."
"You wouldn't go in with us. We have only a bottle apiece," pleaded Howe.
Raymond appealed to others in the room, but all of them were of one mind. The salt beef had created a tremendous thirst among those who had eaten it, and all who had water made large draughts upon the supply. The bottles had contained pickles, olives, ketchup, and other similar articles, so that the water was not very palatable. In the course of the forenoon, Raymond and his party stealthily attempted to obtain possession of these bottles, but the runaways were too vigilant for them; and before dinner the thirsty ones were exceedingly uncomfortable, to say the least. They tried to conceal their condition from the Faithful as much as possible, but they were all very nervous and disquieted.
At one o'clock, after the regular dinner of roast beef and rice pudding had been served to the Faithful, the tables were again prepared for the rebels; but the bill of fare was corned beef and hard bread—not a drop of water. Peaks and the head steward paced the unsteady floor, as they had done at breakfast time. Raymond, whose tongue and lips were parched with thirst, became desperate again, and attempted to force his way into the kitchen. He was seized by the boatswain, and the more he struggled, the more he was shaken up. He refused to behave himself, and Peaks thrust him into the brig.