CHAPTER IX.
THE LAST OF THE MUTINEERS.
The gale continued to blow ugly and gusty during the day, until eight bells in the afternoon. The fog hung heavy over the ocean, and the bell was rung every five minutes, in accordance with the English Admiralty instructions. The ship had been standing close-hauled to the north-north-west since noon, when she had tacked, at the warning of the fog signal, made at some light station on the coast of France, in the vicinity of Cape de La Hague. For four hours she had been on her present course, and was therefore approaching the coast of England again. At the beginning of the first dog-watch, there were some signs of a change of weather. The fog appeared to be lifting, and the wind came in less violent gusts.
In the steerage, among the rebels, the most unalloyed misery prevailed. The runaways had exhausted their supply of water under the pressure of thirst caused by the salt provision, though they had not yet begun to be very uncomfortable. Certainly they had, as yet, no thought of yielding, but were rather studying up the means of obtaining a new supply of water. Raymond's party were only waiting for the boatswain's call to ask permission to join their shipmates on deck; but, most provokingly, no call came. Their leader had been discharged from the brig as soon as he ceased to be violent; for the principal did not wish to punish any one for the mutiny, preferring to let it work its own cure on the diet he had prescribed.
With the exception of the rebels, every one seemed to be particularly jolly. The principal had explained his policy to them, and they were entirely satisfied. All the evolutions of seamanship were performed with remarkable precision even in the gale, demonstrating that the crew had not lost their prestige, when the will was right. In the cabin, even, the rough sea did not dampen the spirits of the passengers, who had been, in a measure, accustomed to the rude action of the sea by their voyage in the steamer and in the Josephine. The Grand Protectress of the Order of the Faithful was full of life and spirits, and watched with the deepest interest the progress of the rebellion in the steerage.
In Raymond's party the suffering from thirst had become intolerable. Lindsley's back had been broken early in the forenoon, but Raymond declared that he would never yield—he would die first.
"What's the use?" demanded Lindsley. "We are whipped out, sold out, played out, and used up. My tongue is as dry as a piece of wash-leather."
"I don't like to give it up," replied Raymond. "It looks mean to back out."
"Just look at it a moment. We are suffering for the sins of Howe's fellows. They let off the water, saving a supply for themselves, and our fellows are really the only ones who suffer for their deed. We are sustaining them, even while they won't give us a drop of water to moisten our lips. For one, I never will get into such a scrape again. We have been fools, and whenever I see the runaways go one way, I'm going the other."
"All hands, on deck, ahoy!" shouted the boatswain at the main hatch.
"That means me," said Lindsley, rushing to the ladder. "Come along, Raymond. Howe and his fellows have been stingy and mean enough to be left alone."
Most of the crew were on deck when the call was piped. Lindsley led the way up the ladder, and Raymond followed him. The last argument of his friend had evidently converted the latter, for, however much he disliked to yield, it was not so bad as supporting the cause of such fellows as Howe, who would not even give him a drink of water. And the idea of enduring positive suffering for the evil deed of the runaways was not pleasant. They had let the water out of the tanks, but Raymond and his friends were the only ones who had thus far suffered in consequence of the act. It was these reflections which absolutely drove him upon deck, rather than any disposition to undo the wrong he had done.
A lift of the fog had revealed the Bill of Portland, a narrow neck of land projecting outside the channel from the English coast. The wind was hauling to the northward, and the prospect of fair weather was very good. The order was given to turn out one of the reefs in the topsails. The appearance of the Raymond party was noticed by Mr. Lowington, and even the passengers observed those who wore neither the white nor the blue ribbon. As soon as the rebels reached the deck, they discovered the water breaker in the waist. They charged upon it with a fury which required the interference of an officer; but half a pint was served out to each of them before they were sent aloft.
The reefs were turned out, and the ship came about on the other tack. Nothing had been seen of the Josephine since the fog settled down upon the squadron the night before; but the principal had no fears in regard to her safety. Fog-horns, guns, and bells warn the voyager of his approach to any of the perils of the shore; and the experienced navigator can interpret these signals so as to avoid all danger.
"South-west by west, half west," said Paul Kendall, who was the acting sailing-master on duty, giving out the course to the quarter-master in charge of the wheel.
"South-west by west, half west," repeated the latter.
"Where will that take us?" asked Grace Arbuckle, who watched everything that was said and done with deep interest.
"That course will take the ship to a point off Ushant, which is an island near the coast of France, not far from Brest," replied Paul, who took especial pleasure in explaining to her the working of the vessel.
"How far is it from here?"
"From the Bill of Portland, which is the land you see astern of us, the distance to Ushant is one hundred and fifty-seven miles."
"How long will it take us to go there?"
"That will depend entirely upon the wind," laughed Paul. "We are logging ten knots just now, which would bring us off Ushant about ten o'clock to-morrow forenoon. But the wind is going down, and we may not get there till to-morrow night."
"Well, I'm in no hurry; and I rather hope it will not blow very hard," added Grace.
"That's just my wish. If the water only holds out, I don't care."
"But there is something more for the Grand Protectress to do," said Grace.
"A dozen more who are to take the first degree; but I do not know whether they will be willing to be initiated."
"Why not?"
"Raymond, who is generally a good fellow, has been very ugly. Perhaps he feels better now he has quenched his thirst."
"May I speak to him?"
"Certainly, if you wish to do so."
Paul conducted the Grand Protectress to the waist, where the head steward was giving the Raymond party another half pint of water apiece. They were very thirsty, and, as boys understand the word, they had doubtless suffered a great deal for the want of water. As they had returned to their duty, and yielded the point, Mr. Lowington had directed that they should be frequently supplied, until they were satisfied. The general opinion was, that they had already been severely punished, not only by the thirst they had endured, augmented as it was by their diet of salt beef and hard bread, but in the mortification they had experienced at the failure of their scheme. The latter punishment was quite as severe as the former.
"Miss Arbuckle wishes to speak to you, Raymond," said Paul, addressing the discomfited leader of the mild party.
"What for?" demanded he.
"She will explain for herself."
"Does she want to preach to me?"
"I think not. Of course you are not compelled to see her, if you don't wish to do so," added Paul, who could not see why any one should not wish to converse with Grace.
"I will hear what she has to say," said Raymond, with a condescension which Paul did not like.
The commodore presented the delinquent to the young lady. Raymond touched his cap, and bowed politely.
"I am very glad to see you on deck, Mr. Raymond, for I have wished to make your acquaintance since last evening," Grace began.
"Thank you. I was not aware that I had any claims upon your consideration."
"I see you wear no ribbon. Shall I furnish you with one?"
"I don't know what it is for?" said Raymond, glancing at the white ribbon on the commodore's breast. "What does it mean?"
"I can't tell you anything about it just yet. I suppose you are very sorry for what you have done."
"I feel better since I have had a drink of water," replied Raymond, good-naturedly; and there was no doubt that he spoke the literal truth.
"I regret that it was necessary to deprive you of water."
"It was not my fault. I had nothing to do with emptying the water tanks," pleaded the culprit. "It was the runaways who did that."
"Then you were in bad company."
"I think so myself," answered Raymond, candidly, for he was still under the influence of the clinching argument which had induced him to come on deck.
At this point the conversation was interrupted by the call of the principal, who summoned the Raymond party into his presence on the quarter-deck.
"Are you satisfied?" asked Mr. Lowington, with a pleasant smile on his face, when the rebels had assembled before him.
"No, sir," replied Raymond, promptly, and before any other of the party could give a different answer.
"Why did you come on deck, then?"
"We couldn't stand it any longer without water."
"Is that the reason why you came on deck?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you may return to your former diet till you are satisfied," added the principal, pleasantly.
"We don't wish to do that, sir."
"Didn't I understand you to say that you were not satisfied."
"I am not, sir," continued Raymond, stoutly. "I don't think it was fair to—"
"Stop!" interposed the principal, rather sharply. "I do not purpose to listen to your grievances. You have undertaken to redress them yourselves, and I see no reason why you should not persevere till you are satisfied."
"We can't live on salt junk and hard bread without any water, sir."
"Can't you, indeed? You should have thought of that before you joined hands with those who started the water out of the tanks."
"We did not even know that they meant to start the water, or, afterwards, that they had done it, till the cook said so. We are not responsible for what they did."
"Perhaps not; yet you were in the hold, in full fellowship with them. But I do not intend to argue the matter with you."
"We are ready to return to our duty, sir, whether we are satisfied or not," added Raymond.
"O, you are?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, as long as you are willing to do your duty, I suppose it does not matter whether you are satisfied or not."
Raymond made no reply, and could not help wondering that he had been so simple as to believe the principal would ask an explanation of mutineers.
"Are you willing to obey all orders?" continued Mr. Lowington.
"Yes, sir."
"And the others?"
"Yes, sir," replied Raymond's followers.
"Will you refrain from all communication with those in the steerage who still refuse to do duty?"
"I will," answered Raymond, who had before made up his mind to do this.
"Especially you will not inform them of anything which takes place on deck, or give them the benefit of any explanation you may hear," said the principal. "Those who assent to these terms will walk over to windward."
The party, who could not help wondering at this singular treatment of what they regarded as a very difficult matter, walked squarely up to the weather-rail of the ship, and halted there. The remarks of the principal, and the pledge he exacted, seemed to explain the strange conduct of the white and the blue ribbon bands in the steerage. No one had been able to ascertain definitely what those badges meant.
"Very well. I am satisfied, if you are not," said Mr. Lowington, mildly. "You deserve punishment, but it shall depend upon your future conduct whether you receive it or not. You will go forward."
When the party reached the waist, they were confronted by Grace and Paul.
"You have promised to be faithful—have you not?" asked she.
"Yes; but I'm not satisfied," replied the leader.
"Then I confer upon you the first degree of the Order of the Faithful," added Grace. "Its emblem is a yellow ribbon;" and she pinned the decoration upon Raymond's breast.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
She explained its meaning, and then initiated his companions.
"How happens it that we have yellow ribbon while others have white or blue ones?" asked Lindsley.
"Because you have taken only the first degree, being the last ones to come. If you do well, and are faithful, you shall be raised to the second, and then to the third degree," replied Grace, with a vivacity which was not at all impaired by the laughter of the initiates, who, as others before them had, regarded the order as a pleasant joke.
"When you have proved yourselves worthy, you will be advanced to the second degree by the Grand Protectress," added Paul. "The motto of the concern is, 'Vous ne pouvez pas faire un sifflet de la queue d'un cochon;' and I think you have fully proved the truth of the saying. The meaning of the sentence is one of the secrets of the order. Do you promise not to reveal it?"
"I do, for one," laughed Lindsley. "I haven't the least idea myself what it means."
"Nor I," added all the others."
"Then you will all be discreet. The motto contains a very valuable moral lesson, which bears on your case, and I hope you will take it to heart," said Paul.
"I should like to take it to head first," replied Lindsley.
"I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Raymond," continued Grace.
"Not at all. I am willing to do my duty, rather than be starved on salt junk, and choked to death for the want of water; but I am not satisfied."
"Not satisfied!" exclaimed Grace. "Not after you have been initiated into the noble and magnanimous Circle of the Order of the Faithful!"
"Not much!"
"You should say, 'Nicht viel,' when you want to use that expression," laughed Grace, who did not like American slang, and had already partially cured Paul, who had a slight tendency in that direction.
"Well,nicht viel, then. It was not fair, when we had been promised a trip into Germany, to send us off to sea, just to please Shuffles."
"Captain Shuffles is a good young man. If you say anything against him, you shall be expelled from the Order of the Faithful!"
"Well, I won't say anything against him, then, Miss Arbuckle; but they say the ship is bound for Belfast."
"Do you see that land, Mr. Raymond?" she added, pointing to the light on the headland.
"I do."
"What land is it?"
"I don't know."
"It is the Bill of Portland. Now, which way is the ship headed?"
"About south-west," replied Raymond, after looking through the skylight at the tell-tale in the steerage.
"South-west by west, half west," she added.
"Bully for you!"
"Instead of that, you should say, "Bulle für ihnen." In other words, you should utter all your slang in German: it sounds better."
"I only meant to say that you reeled off the course like a regular old salt," laughed Raymond.
"If the ship were bound to Belfast, its course would be nearer west. We are not going to Belfast. We are going to Brest. Mr. Lowington said the ship's company needed a little exercise to perfect the discipline, and to save the trouble and expense of going into the dock at Havre, the vessels will be left in the harbor of Brest. He never had a thought of giving up the trip down the Rhine."
"Is that so?" asked the leader of the mild rebels.
Paul repeated the explanation to the penitents which the principal had given the day before.
"We understood that we were going to sea just to please Shuffles," said Lindsley.
"The captain certainly wanted better discipline, and he did propose a day or two at sea for its improvement," added Paul.
"I don't care for two or three days at sea, if we are to go to the Rhine," continued Raymond. "I'm satisfied now."
The conversation was continued till the starboard watch was piped to supper. Raymond was fully satisfied now that he had made a fool of himself, and, what was even worse, that he and his companions had been the dupes of the runaways. Those who belonged in the starboard watch were permitted to go to the table, and they did ample justice to the cold roast beef, butter toast, and tea which covered the mess tables. Peaks and the head steward paced the steerage, as before, and no one without a ribbon was allowed to partake. At six o'clock, after the port watch had been relieved, the second supper was served, and the rest of the hungry and thirsty delinquents enjoyed the change in their bill of fare.
Then the runaways sat down to their supper of salt beef and hard bread, without tea or water. The food did not suit them, and they turned up their noses at it. The thirst created by their salt breakfast in the morning had required large draughts upon their water bottles, and before dinner they had exhausted the supply. They were very thirsty, though none of them were actually suffering. The fact that they could not get any water made them want it all the more. They ate none of the salt meat, which by this time was loathsome to them. Ship bread was dry feed, and they could eat very little of it. Doubtless it was a hard case for them, the sons of rich men; but they had only to obey the boatswain's pipe, and "eat, drink, and be filled."
"I can't stand this," said Monroe, when a group of them had gathered in their mess-room after the unpalatable supper.
"Can't you? What's the reason you can't?" growled Howe.
"I'm almost choked."
"So am I," added several others.
"Are you going to back out?" demanded the leader.
"Rather than perish with thirst, I am," answered Herman.
"What's the use? All the rest of the fellows have deserted us," added Ibbotson. "Even Raymond is sporting a yellow ribbon, and is as jolly as a lord now."
"We can't make anything by it," said Monroe. "I move you we back out, and get a drink of water. All hands will be called at eight bells, I think, to put on more sail."
"No, no! Don't back out," interposed Howe. "We haven't made ourselves felt yet."
"That's so," groaned Herman. "No one takes any notice of us. Even those fellows that went up last won't speak to us, not even to answer a civil question. The principal evidently regards us with perfect contempt. I go in for doing something, or backing out. As it is, we are making a milk-and-water affair of it. We are starved and choked. That's all we have to show for what we have done."
"Why don't you preach, and say, 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' or something of that sort, which is original," snarled Howe.
"I should judge from your talk that you did not feel very good," added Herman.
"I don't; I'm as dry as any of you, but I have no idea of backing out."
"What are you going to do? What's to be the end of this?" demanded Ibbotson. "I've got enough of it."
"That seems to be the general opinion," continued Herman.
"Where's Little?" demanded Howe, who could not help realizing that the fortunes of the last of the mutineers were becoming desperate, and that it was not an easy thing to contend against such enemies as hunger and thirst. "I shall not give it up so. Let us do something. Let us make ourselves felt, even if we are hanged for it."
"What can we do?" inquired Herman, earnestly. "We are caged here like a lot of donkeys, and I have had enough of it."
"Will you hold on for a couple of hours longer, fellows?" persisted Howe.
"I will hold on till the boatswain calls all hands, and not an instant longer," replied Herman. "My tongue feels as though it were cracking with thirst."
Howe rushed out of the room to find Little, who was the man of expedients for the runaways. He found him in an adjoining room, and stated the case to him. The little villain was as uncomfortable and unhappy as the rest of the mutineers, and, to the surprise of Howe, counselled yielding rather than suffering any longer.
"I didn't think that of you, Little," sneered Howe.
"Didn't you? Well, it's only a question as to who can stand it the longest on a diet of salt horse without water," replied Little. "I can hold out as long as any fellow; but we shall not make anything by it. If we could, I would stick."
"Let us do something, at least, to make a sensation before we give in. I don't like the idea of being conquered just in this way."
"What can we do?"
"Let us set the ship afire, or bore holes in the bottom," whispered Howe.
"Of course, you don't mean anything of that sort," added Little, with a grim smile.
"I would rather do it than be whipped out in this manner. I never felt so cheap and mean in my life," continued Howe, kicking the front of the berth, and pounding with his fist to indicate the intensity of his wrath.
"Nor I either; but what are you going to do about it."
"Well, you furnish gumption for the crowd, and I came to ask you what to do. Our fellows' backs are broken, and they will go on deck when the boatswain's pipe sounds again."
"I shall go with them," replied Little, quietly.
"Can't we get into the hold, and find some water?"
"No; Bitts put a lock on that scuttle this morning, and the forward officers are watching all the time. You can set the ship afire if you like. I don't think of anything else you can do to make yourself felt."
"I'll do it!" exclaimed Howe.
"No, you won't," added Little, mildly.
"What's the reason I won't?"
"You dare not."
"You see!" said the discomfited leader, bolting out of the room.
Some men, and some boys, are the most easily overwhelmed by letting them severely alone. If Howe could have made a sensation, he would have been better satisfied, even if he had been committed to the brig. He was vain and proud, and it hurt him more to be ignored than to be beaten. It was questionable whether he was desperate enough to put his savage threat into execution; but he collected a pile of books and papers in his mess-room, and declared his intention to Herman, Monroe, and others, who were his messmates. No student was allowed to have matches, and he lacked the torch to fire the incendiary pile.
"Don't be an idiot, Howe!" said Herman, disgusted with the conduct of his leader.
"I'm going to do something," persisted he.
"You are not going to do that."
"Yes, I am! As soon as the steward leaves the steerage, I shall borrow one of the lanterns, and there will be a blaze down here."
"No, there won't!"
"What's the reason there won't?"
"The fellows won't let you do any such thing. A fellow is a fool to burn his own ship at sea."
"Of course it won't burn up; but it will bring Lowington down here, and he will find out we are somebody."
"Nonsense!"
"But I mean it."
"No, you don't! It is all buncombe."
"You wait and see if it is. If I can only bring Lowington down here, and see him scared out of his wits, I shall be satisfied. I shall be willing to go into the brig, then, and stay there for the rest of the cruise."
"You are a fool, Howe."
"I'm desperate."
"You shall not kindle any fire here. If you say you mean to do it, I will call Peaks at once."
"I said it, and I'll do it," said Howe, leaving the room.
His messmates followed him. The steward had left the steerage, and Howe, in order to take down the lantern, leaped upon a stool. Herman kicked it from beneath him, and he fell upon the floor.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Howe, with clinched fists.
"Don't you touch that lantern—that's all!"
"Yes, I will;" and he tried to mount the stool again.
Herman, Ibbotson, and Monroe seized him, and dragged him back into the room. The noise attracted the attention of the rest of the mutineers, and some others, who were below.
"Go, and call Peaks, Monroe," said Herman. "I will hold him till you come back."
"Don't do that," interposed the desperate leader, becoming suddenly calm, and apparently reasonable. "You are all cowards. Let me alone. I might as well yield, with such milk-and-water fellows around me. Don't say anything to Peaks."
"You are a bigger fool than I thought you were," added Herman, taking no pains to conceal his disgust at the conduct of his leader.
"All hands, on deck, ahoy!" piped the boatswain.
All hands, Howe included, answered the call. The mutiny was ended.
CHAPTER X.
WHAT THE RUNAWAYS WERE GOING TO DO.
It was an astonishingly stupid mutiny, not relieved, even a shade, by the sensational conduct of Howe, the leader, in its last moments, that terminated twenty-four hours after its commencement, on board of the Young America. However, it was hardly more stupid than any other wilful evil-doing. Captain Shuffles, like the potentates of the old world, wishing to have his accession to power signalized by an act of clemency, had pleaded earnestly that the runaways might be forgiven, and permitted to visit Germany with the rest of the ship's company. Mr. Lowington had endeavored to reconcile the granting of the request with his views of discipline. It is not necessary to ask with what success he considered the matter, for the delinquents had now effectually put it out of his power to grant them any favor.
The fog had lifted, and from the north-west came up the clearing of the blue sky, as the sun went down. The wind had moderated, though the sea still rolled uneasily in the channel. The principal had directed the head steward to estimate the supply of water on board, and on his report had decided that the ship should proceed directly to Brest. She had been under easy sail, but as soon as the course was given to the captain, he called all hands. For the first time since the departure from Havre, all hands answered the call. Though it was quite dark, the presence of the runaways was promptly recognized. The volunteer officers, who were serving as seamen, were directed to take their regular stations in working ship.
The water breaker in the waist was in demand, as soon as the last of the mutineers came on deck; and without a word in regard to the past, the steward served them out a pint of water apiece. Their prompt attention to the water ration caused a smile among the Faithful, and the officers considerately deferred further orders until their pressing want was supplied.
"Shall we admit them to the Order of the Faithful?" said Grace to the commodore, when it was announced that the bottom had dropped out of the mutiny.
"I think not," replied Paul. "They have been the cause of all the trouble on board, and Mr. Lowington does not wish that anything should be said to them. They are the ones who emptied the water tanks."
"Really, I don't think they deserve to be admitted to the Order of the Faithful—at least, not till they have proved their fidelity to duty."
"Raymond, and those who came on deck before, are generally very good fellows; and we all believe now that they were led away by the runaways," added Paul. "We shall soon see whether all hands intend to do their duty."
When the thirsty ones had been supplied with water, the order to set the courses was given, and the runaways severally took their stations, and performed their duty without making any confusion. The top-gallant-sails and royals were then shaken out. The discipline now seemed to be perfect, and the principal's method of dealing with the mutiny was fully justified, though he took pains to explain to some of the professors that he did not consider this treatment practicable in all cases. The conduct of the rebels, and the facts developed, indicated that they wished to be noticed; that they believed the ship could not sail without their permission and assistance. This blunder was fatal to all their calculations, and they were unable to "make themselves felt."
But the runaways were no better satisfied than Raymond had been; and though they performed their duty in setting sail with entire precision, they were sour and morose. The sting of an overwhelming defeat thorned them. They were mortified, humiliated, and crest-fallen. They were enraged at the conduct of their rebellious companions of the milder stripe, who had deserted them, and they were reaping the general consequences of evil-doing. They did their work, but when it was done they avoided their shipmates, and even avoided each other. Howe had ruined himself as a leader by his silly conduct, and there was not likely to be any further concerted action among them.
Mr. Lowington had faithfully followed out his plan, and had directed Mr. Fluxion to adopt the same treatment for those who refused to do duty in the Josephine—to keep them in the steerage, and feed them on sailors' fare. The result of the treatment in the consort was yet to be learned, for she had not been seen since the supply of water had been procured from her.
At midnight the wind blew fresh from the north-west, and with all sails set, the ship logged twelve knots. The three lights on the Casquets, at the western extremity of the Channel Islands were in sight, and the prospect of seeing Ushant early in the forenoon was good. As all hands were now on duty, the system of quarter watches was restored, so that each part could have six hours of uninterrupted sleep. There was nothing for the watch on deck to do, except to steer, and keep a lookout; and there was a great deal of discussion about mutiny in general, and the Young America mutiny in particular. It was generally conceded even by the rebels, that it "did not pay."
After the runaways had in some measure recovered from the first blush of defeat, some of them wanted to know about the ribbons; but the members of the Order of the Faithful did not consider themselves authorized to impart the secrets of the organization, and declined to explain them. Doubtless they enjoyed the mystery, and desired to keep it up for their own amusement. Howe, when he found a tongue, reproached his companions in mischief for their cowardice, and boasted of what great things would have been accomplished if they had supported him to the end; but his most intimate associates were disgusted with him, and avoided him as much as possible.
At seven bells in the morning, a breakfast of coffee, mutton chops, potatoes, and hot biscuit put most of the runaways in the port watch in better humor than before, and another did a similar service for those in the starboard watch half an hour later. They ate and drank all they could, rather than all they needed, and probably shuddered when they thought of the consequences of evil-doing, as embodied in salt beef and hard bread, without a drop of water.
At one bell in the forenoon watch, the lookout in the foretop shouted, "Land, ho, on the lee bow." An hour after, the bold rugged shores of Ushant were plainly in sight, and Dr. Winstock informed Paul and Grace that they were in the very waters where the English fleet, under Admiral Sir Edward Hawkes, had won the great naval victory over the French in 1759.
"Sail, ho!" shouted the lookout.
"Where away?" called the officer forward.
"On the weather bow. It's a topsail schooner, and looks like the Josephine."
Glasses were in demand, and the officers soon satisfied themselves that the sail ahead was the consort. It was evident that, hugging the wind closely, she had gone farther from the coast than the Young America. She took a pilot off Ushant, and continued on her course, though Mr. Lowington was anxious to communicate with her, and learn the result of the mutiny which had also prevailed on board. Off the island, the ship was boarded by a pilot, and following the Josephine, passed through the Goulet de Brest, which is the only entrance to the harbor. This passage is not more than a mile wide, and is defended on each side by strong forts. The harbor is a land-locked bay, deep enough for vessels of the largest class, and with space enough to accommodate, at least, five hundred of them. Brest is the most important naval station of France, and its fortress and docks were full of interest to the young tourists. The city, which contains a population of eighty thousand, is built on the summit and slopes of a hill, some of the streets upon whose sides are so steep as to be impassable for vehicles.
The Josephine had already come to anchor, and the ship followed her example, taking position as near to her as it was safe to lie. As usual, when the vessels came into port, there was a great excitement on board, for new sights and sounds are peculiarly agreeable after the voyager comes from the monotony of the swelling ocean; and the students made the most of them. In coming into port, all hands had been on duty; and after the sails had all been furled, Captain Shuffles declared that he was perfectly satisfied with the discipline of his crew. The runaways, who were generally good seamen, whatever else they were, did not deem it prudent to "pipe to mischief" again, or to attempt to create any confusion. All eyes were fixed on them if anything went amiss, and if they were disposed to do wrong, they made a merit of necessity. But Brest was an old story to them, and brought up unpleasant memories. They knew the harbor, and were familiar with the sights, having served on board of the Josephine in this port for three weeks after the runaway cruise. Indeed, their knowledge of the harbor brought them into favor with others, who asked them many questions about the objects to be seen.
After everything was made snug on board of the ship, the yards squared, and every rope hauled taut in man-of-war style, the first cutter was lowered, and the principal visited the Josephine. As he went over the side, he saw Adler, Phillips, and others of the runaways, who belonged to the consort, on deck, and he concluded that his plan had worked as well in her as in the ship.
"Well, Mr. Fluxion," said he, as he grasped the hand of his able assistant, "I see the Josephine has not yet been taken away from you."
"No, sir. We had but a dozen mutineers on board," replied the vice-principal, "and they are about the sickest dogs you ever saw. I kept them in the steerage, and fed them on salt beef and hard bread, as you suggested to me."
"Did you give them any water?"
"Not a drop. After I learned that your ruffians had stove the water tanks, I concluded they were all in the same boat, and that my fellows were as responsible for the deed as yours. I suppose it was all a contrived plan before we left Havre."
"I don't know whether it was or not. I should have treated it in a different manner if the young rascals had not dragged in a large number of the students who seldom give us any trouble."
"The plan worked well, though I did not very strongly approve of it at first. Last night, the rebels sent for me, and begged, with tears in their eyes, to be permitted to return to their duty, promising to be faithful as long as they remained on board. I gave them a pretty severe lecture, but they declared they had nothing to do with staving the water tanks in the ship, and did not know anything about it. I'm not apt to believe what those fellow say."
"It matters little whether they knew it or not; they certainly agreed together to refuse to do duty. Well, they have come to their senses now, and both vessels seem to be in good order. Of course, after what has happened, it is not proper to take these mischief-makers with us into Germany," added Mr. Lowington.
"Certainly not," replied Mr. Fluxion, promptly.
"Then, as you are going to Italy, what shall be done with them while we are absent?" asked the principal, anxiously.
"My sister, who intends to spend the winter in Italy with her husband, desires to see me on a matter of business connected with her private property. As she is an invalid, I think she wishes to consult me in regard to the disposition of her estate, so that her children may enjoy it after her decease; for, as I have told you before, her husband is not a reliable man. If it were a matter of any less consequence, I would not think of leaving."
"Undoubtedly it is your duty to go, and you must do so. But I do not like the idea of leaving thirty such students as Howe, Little, and Phillips in the sole charge of Dr. Carboy. He is a good man; but he has not quite tact and energy enough for such a responsibility."
"Suppose I take them with me," suggested Mr. Fluxion, with a smile.
"That is hardly practicable."
"I mean in the Josephine," added the vice-principal.
"It's a long voyage round through the Strait of Gibraltar."
"I am in no hurry to reach Italy. How long shall you be absent in Germany?"
"About three weeks."
"Say twenty-one days," said Mr. Fluxion, musing. "The Josephine is a fast vessel. Under the most favorable circumstances, she would make the run in eight days. A fair passage would be twelve days. If I remain one day in Genoa, where my sister lives, the cruise would last twenty-five days."
"A few days' time, or a week, is of no consequence," added Mr. Lowington.
"But suppose you take the ship to Lisbon, on your return, and I will meet you there, say about the twenty-seventh or eighth of the month."
"I rather like the plan; but isn't it a little hard on the boys?"
"Not at all. It's giving them plenty of sea-service; but that is what they need for their complaint. We shall feed them well on fresh provisions, and it is a pleasant trip up the Mediterranean at this season of the year. But I only mention the idea to solve the difficulty you suggest."
"I will consider the matter, and give you an answer before night," added Mr. Lowington, thoughtfully.
"If the plan is adopted, I should like to have Peaks and Bitts with me, to act as watch officers with Cleats and Gage."
"You shall have them," replied Mr. Lowington, as he directed the officer of the boat to call his crew, who had been permitted to come on board.
In the first cutter's crew were three of the runaways, who had taken the opportunity to communicate with Adler, Phillips, and other of the runaways in the consort. After each party had related to the other its experience in rebellion, and commented on its unsatisfactory results, they touched upon the old topic—how to get to Paris, where remittances from their friends were waiting for most of them.
"Old Carboy is to have charge of us while the crowd are gone," said Sheffield, irreverently. "We can easily come it over him."
"If we can only get on shore, we are all right," added Phillips.
"Only we have no money to pay our fare to Paris," interposed Adler.
"I can raise some," suggested Sheffield. "My father sent me a letter of credit on a Paris banker; but any banker will let me have some money on it, if I draw on Paris in his favor."
"That's the idea!" exclaimed Adler. "I have a letter also."
"But we are not to go together this time," added Little.
"Any way, if we are only to go," said Phillips, as the coxswain of the first cutter called away his crew, and ended the conversation.
It was renewed as soon as the ship was reached and the boat hauled up. The runaways had abandoned all thought of joining the excursion to the Rhine; and "how to get away" was an exciting topic to them. In the tops, out on the bowsprit, and in other secluded places, small knots of them gathered to discuss the subject. Promises made to do better were forgotten, and the bitter experience of the past was wholly ignored. If they could get away from the ship or the consort,—in whichever one they were to be confined,—they would make amends for all their sufferings and all their humiliations. Herman and Little were especially earnest, though they still avoided their late leader, Howe. Perth was regarded as lost to them, for he wore a white ribbon on his breast, and had done his duty as an officer.
"We will all be pious for a day or two, till Carboy closes his eyes," said Little. "You, and Ibbotson, and I will look out for ourselves, and the rest of the fellows must do the same. I have an idea."
"Have you? What is it?" demanded Herman.
"We shall all be sent on board the Josephine as soon as the lambs get ready to start for Germany."
"Yes, I suppose so," added Herman, eagerly.
"Then it will be an easy matter. But I don't want to talk about it yet. Too many cooks spoil the soup," continued Little, with his air of mysterious assurance.
"Tell us what it is. We won't mention it."
"I've got it all arranged; and if the rest of our fellows are smart, they can take advantage of it. We all know this harbor pretty well," added the little villain.
"Why don't you tell us what the idea is?"
Little rose from his seat in the main-top, and looked over to see that no inquisitive person was concealed on the cat-harpings.
"You are not to mention it to any one, you understand, or hint at it. We three, I repeat, are to look out for ourselves only. Ibbotson is to find the money to get to Paris, and I furnish the brains."
"What am I to find?"
"Find your way to Paris, if you can. You are a good fellow, Herman, and I will take you in because you are some punkins."
"But you haven't told us the plan," said Ibbotson, not particularly pleased with the self-sufficiency of his little companion.
"I will tell you," whispered Little, throwing an arm around the neck of each of his friends, and drawing their heads together near his mouth. "At night, when everything is quiet, one of us will just unbit the cable, and let it run out. Then another shall sing out that the vessel is going adrift. That will make a row. Then we will try to do something. You, Herman, and I, will offer to carry a line to another vessel—the ship, for instance. Carboy—who don't know any more about a vessel than a kitten does of the ten commandments—will tell you to do it. Then we three will jump into a boat, and carry off the line. We can carry it to the ship, or not, just as we think best; but you may bet your life we don't return to the Josephine! How does that strike you?"
"Yes; but where are Cleats and Gage all this time? They know all about a vessel, if Carboy don't," suggested Herman.
"Wherever you please," replied Little, confidently.
"Suppose they happen to be on deck, and are disposed to take the boat and carry out the line themselves?"
"So much the better! Thanks to the prudence and good management of the principal, there are four boats belonging to the Josephine," answered the little villain, who appeared to have provided for every emergency which could possibly occur. "The moment the boatswain and carpenter are clear of the vessel, we will suggest that another line ought to be carried to some other vessel; and Mr. Carboy will see the necessity of the measure."
"Perhaps he won't see it," interposed Ibbotson.
"Then I'll fall overboard."
"Fall overboard?"
"Precisely so," replied Little.
"I don't see what that has to do with it," said Herman.
"Don't you? Well, I hope you and Ibbotson would have the courage and the energy to save me from a watery grave, and all that sort of thing."
"What! jump in after you?" inquired Herman.
"No! How heavy your wits are to-day! You need not dampen your trousers. Just drop the fourth cutter into the water, pick me up, and then we will find our way to the shore."
"Some other fellows might take it into their heads to rescue you from a watery grave, and all that sort of thing," added Herman.
"If they do, so much the better for them. You and Ibbotson must make sure that you get into the boat, whoever else does. There will be no officers to bother, unless Perth happens to be left on board. If he is, all right. He will know what to do. If the other fellows don't want to go to Paris with us, or rather on their own hook, they can return to the vessel, and mildly break it to the professor, that we were all drowned. There will not be a particle of trouble about the business. There are twenty other ways of managing the case. As soon as the lambs are off, and we are put on board of the Josephine, we will arrange everything."
"Perhaps we shall remain in the ship," suggested Herman.
"So much the worse for the ship, for her cable can be unbitted, as well as the schooner's."
"That's so."
"In the dark, with the ship adrift and liable to be thrown on shore, or to run afoul of another vessel, there will be a big excitement, and we can do anything we wish. When the rest of the fellows see what is up, they can take care of themselves," continued Little, who did not believe in the possibility of a failure.
"Very well; we will suppose we get on shore all right—what then? We shall be in Brest, which is a fortified city, with gates through which none can pass without permission," said Ibbotson.
"Never mind the gates. We shall leave by railroad for Paris. As soon as you raise some money to pay for the tickets, I will take care of the rest."
"I have no doubt we can raise the money. My father sent me a letter of credit for five hundred francs. I heard my cousin say he could get money in any large city on his letter of credit, for the bankers know each other," added Ibbotson.
"If he had only sent you a circular letter of credit, you could draw almost anywhere," said Herman.
"Well, if we can't raise any money on the letter, I have a gold watch that cost about a hundred dollars in New York. I can raise two hundred francs on it, and redeem it when we come back," continued Ibbotson.
"That's the talk!" exclaimed Little. "I like to see energy in a fellow. There isn't a ghost of a doubt in my mind but that we shall be in Paris in two or three days from now."
This interesting conversation was interrupted by the boatswain's call, piping all hands to muster. The crew were then drilled for an hour in all the evolutions of getting under way, and making sail. The runaways dared not repeat the experiments which had been tried with so much apparent success at Havre, for they feared the squadron would be sent to sea again if the drill was not perfect. The various movements were admirably performed, and entirely to the satisfaction of Captain Shuffles. The ship's company were then piped to dinner. When they came on deck, the signal, "All hands, attend lecture," was flying on board the ship. This was a hopeful sign for those who were impatient to visit the Rhine, and most of the crew were ready to hear Professor Mapps's description of Germany.
While the ship's company were waiting for the arrival of the Josephine's, a very interesting ceremony was performed in the waist. The Grand Protectress of the Order of the Faithful raised the members of the second degree to the third, adorning them with the white ribbon. They had been faithful in the discharge of all their duties, and Grace insisted that all the members should now stand on an equal footing. Those who wore the yellow ribbon were advanced to the second degree; but Grace promised them that if they listened attentively to the lecture, they should receive the white ribbon before night.
With the crew of the Josephine came Mr. Fluxion, who immediately retired to the main cabin with the principal, where the further details of the cruise to Genoa were discussed. It was finally agreed that the vice-principal's plan should be adopted, and that the Josephine should sail as early the next day as she could be fitted out for the voyage. The two vessels were to meet at Lisbon, near the end of the month, and from that port proceed on the homeward voyage. Peaks and Gage were sent for, and were very willing to be temporarily transferred to the consort; while Leach was to remain as ship-keeper, in charge of the Young America, during the absence of the party in Germany.
While the professor was engaged upon his lecture in the steerage, Mr. Fluxion returned to the consort with the two forward officers, and, taking in the head steward, proceeded to the shore. In half an hour a water boat was alongside the Josephine, filling up the water tanks and casks. Later in the day several shore boats came off to deliver the provisions and supplies which the steward had purchased. Before night the Josephine was ready for the long cruise up the Mediterranean, though none of the students on board of the ship knew that anything unusual was in progress.