CHAPTER VIII.
THE WRONG SIGNALS.
Tommy lost no time in getting on deck, and reaching the bridge, found that the third officer was in charge, the captain and the second officer having retired to the cabin of the former to consult the chart as to some questions in dispute between them.
"Give me those lights," exclaimed the third officer, who had been instructed to burn them.
They were handed over, and at once sent up.
Bright and brilliant they shot up, and flashed in the clear, dark blue sky.
Scarcely had they died away when the captain returned and took his place on the bridge.
"Signaled her, Mr. Simmons?" he said.
"Yes, sir," replied the third officer.
Scarcely had he spoken when an answering signal appeared shooting up from the deck of the passing steamer.
"By jingo! that's queer," said the captain.
"Very strange, indeed, sir," replied the third officer.
"What do you understand by that?"
"It's heave to, or I'm mistaken; but, really, I don't understandthe whole code as well as I ought. I must take the book in hand."
"See, she's altering her course. We'll show our ensign, and alter the ship's course a few points to the northwest."
"Ay, ay, sir."
The necessary change was made, and the two steamers approached each other.
When they got within hailing distance a voice shouted:
"Ship ahoy!"
"Umbria," was the reply.
"Where from, and how long out?"
"New York, six hours."
"What in thunder," was the next question, "do you want to fool us by signaling that you were in distress and out of provisions?"
"We sent up the ordinary signals, to make out who you were."
"Some mistake. Do you want anything?"
"No."
"Then good-by. We're theAsia, and we'll have a good joke on you."
The captain of theUmbriamuttered some improper words, and gave the order to go ahead.
Soon the mighty machinery began to creak and groan,and the good ship was speedily flying across the ocean at the rate of sixteen knots.
The vessels parted, their lights grew dim in the distance, and the captain had full leisure to vent his displeasure upon those who deserved it.
He sought the quartermaster, who was still busy in his cabin.
"Why did you send me the wrong signals?" he demanded.
"I pointed to the locker, sir, and told the boy to help himself. He must have mistaken the lights."
"Yes, and a nice laughingstock he has made of us."
"What did you send up, sir?"
"In distress and short of provisions, when we were only six hours from port."
The quartermaster with difficulty repressed a smile.
"Who burned the lights?" he inquired.
"The third officer, and it's my opinion that none of the men on board this boat know their business," quoth the captain.
With this severe shot he went on deck again, and sent the boatswain to find out Tommy.
"When you've got him," he added, "give him the taste of a rope's-end, to make him smarter in future."
Luckily for Tommy, the boatswain was unable to findhim, as he had, on seeing that something was wrong, gone below and got into his berth.
But again he had made a mistake, for in the darkness he had entered the purser's cabin, and got into his bed.
The purser had been playing a game of whist in the smoking room and drinking some hot whisky, which, with the fatigue of the day, consequent on leaving port, made him feel unusually sleepy.
Kicking off his boots, he turned into his bunk without looking inside, and was greatly surprised to find it occupied.
"Oh! Charley," exclaimed Tommy, "ain't you heavy. Get off me, or you'll have me smothered, sure."
The purser sprang out again and took one look at the bold intruder.
"You young cub!" he cried, "come out of that double-quick, or I'll skin you alive!"
"Ain't it Charley?"
"No, it's me. How dare you have the cheek to turn into my bunk? Clear out!"
Tommy made a snatch for his clothes, and got out.
"Beg pardon, sir, but where do I sleep?" he asked.
"Hang me if I know, and I'm blessed if I care," replied the purser. "Take your hook out of this, youngster."
Tommy attempted to run, but a well-directed kick fromthe purser sent him on his hands and knees, when the door was banged behind him.
"Bounced!" he heard a voice say close to him.
"That's sure as I'm alive, and badly bounced, too. Why, Charley, is that you?"
"It is. What's up?"
"I'm down," replied Tommy. "The fact is, I got into the wrong cabin, and was yanked out."
"You're always making mistakes. It's rough on you, I'll admit, but it serves you right."
They turned in after this, and the next day very little was seen of Tommy, as the weather was very rough, and he was so seasick he kept in his berth.
The gale was over in a couple of days, and he appeared again, serene and smiling, having found his sea legs, as his friend, Wild Charley, expressed it.
The boatswain's pipes whistled cheerily at this moment.
Some sailors were climbing up the shrouds.
"Anything I can do, sir?" inquired Tommy.
"Go aloft and help set that sail," was the reply.
Though he had never been in the rigging before, Tommy was too proud to refuse to comply with this command.
Accordingly he shinned up the shrouds, but hadn't gone far before he lost his hold and fell in a lump to the deck.
He would have seriously injured himself had not the officer been standing directly under him.
Tommy fell upon the officer's broad back, bringing him with a thud to the deck.
He jumped up unhurt, but the officer was much bruised and shaken.
"Deuce take you for a fool!" he cried.
"Anything else I can do, sir?" asked Tommy.
The officer rose and picked up a belaying pin.
"If you don't make yourself scarce," he replied, "I'll pound you into a jelly."
Tommy disappeared below, but the men had seen the fall and heard Tommy's remark of "anything else I can do, sir?" which became quite a word in the forecastle during the remainder of the voyage.
During the rest of the morning he was sent by the steward to wait upon the cabin passengers, and answer the smoking-room bell.
The ladies kept him busy carrying up wraps and chairs, as it was fine on deck, and the gentlemen occupied his time in orders for Bass' ale and cigars.
Mrs. Nathan S. Stocker, of Chicago, had a mortal aversion to a dog, and a maiden lady named Jones had a Scotch terrier which she insisted upon giving all the privileges of the saloon.
The two ladies entered the saloon together as Tommy was dusting the piano.
Miss Jones' dog ran up and pawed her.
"Boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Stocker, "remove this animal."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Touch him if you dare! Dogs have as much right here as children," replied Miss Jones.
"That remark does not apply to me, as I have left all my precious ones at home; but I will maintain that the butcher's shop is the place for dogs. Boy, go to the purser, and say that I wish this brute taken away."
"Certainly, ma'am," answered Tommy.
The ladies glared at one another, and Tommy sought the purser, who was in his cabin.
"Well, what do you want?" he asked.
"Say, sir, what am I to do with Miss Jones' dog? Mrs. Stocker says——"
"Oh! hang the dog!" replied the purser, impatiently. "I've heard all that before. I can't be bothered."
Tommy entered the saloon again with a piece of rope.
"What does he say?" asked Mrs. Stocker, eagerly.
"The dog's to be hanged, ma'am."
"What!" cried Miss Jones, "hang my Fido!"
"I always said the purser was a gentleman," remarked Mrs. Stocker, smiling triumphantly.
"I will appeal to the captain!" exclaimed Miss Jones. "Touch Fido, if you dare, till I return."
She rushed away, and Tommy stood, irresolute how to act.
"Boy," said Mrs. Stocker, "carry out the purser's orders. Execute that detestable brute of a dog, and I will never forget you."
"All right, ma'am," answered Tommy.
He put the dog under his arm, and going on deck, slung the rope over a yard, made a noose, and having put it round the dog's neck, hauled him up about two feet from the deck.
Fido struggled and kicked, and his eyes were nearly starting from his head in all the agony of strangulation.
Suddenly Miss Jones, followed by the captain, rushed upon the scene, wringing her hands and uttering piercing cries.
"My dear, dear Fido! Save him! oh, save him!" she exclaimed, in piteous accents.
The captain took out a claspknife and cut the rope; then he gave Tommy a box on the ear.
Consequently Fido fell on the deck, very much resembling a dead dog, and his executioner tumbled in a heap on top of him.
Miss Jones pulled him off, and taking up her dear dog,hugged it in her arms, being rewarded by a feeble wag of the tail.
"He lives! yes, he breathes! I was in time!" she cried, tragically, "and my darling is saved!"
The captain looked sternly at Tommy.
"Who gave you authority to hang people's dogs?" he demanded.
"Purser's orders, sir," answered Tommy.
The purser chanced to come on deck, and was just about offering his arm to a lady who was taking a promenade, when the captain called him.
"Why did you order this lady's dog to be killed, Mr. Kinsey?" he asked.
"I, sir? I did nothing of the sort," replied the purser.
"This boy says you did."
"Yes, indeed, sir. Don't go back on me!" pleaded Tommy. "You said, 'Hang the dog!'"
"But I didn't mean it that way, you fool! It was an exclamation of impatience. I had heard of this dog trouble, and didn't want to be mixed up in it."
"Take the dog to the butcher, and let him mind him until the end of the voyage."
"Yes, sir."
"Madam, I am glad to have been of service to you,"continued the captain, making a polite bow to Miss Jones and going on the bridge.
Tommy took the dog to the butcher and received a severe talking to from the purser, who said:
"Are you a fool, or are you putting on?"
"Really, sir, I thought that you were in earnest."
"Thought my eye! thought my grandmother!" replied the purser. "If I thought you were trying on any more larks with me, I'd tan your hide, my lad, and don't you forget it!"
Tommy shrank away, somewhat abashed, wondering why people would say what they didn't mean.
But he had made a friend of Mrs. Stocker, who in the end proved of great service to him.