“Call all hands to loose and furl.”
“All hands, sir,” responded Judson, touching his cap to his superior, as all on board were required to do.
“They are all swells,” said Clyde to his man.
“All hands, loose sails!” shouted the boatswain, as he blew the proper blast on his whistle.
In a few moments every officer and seaman was at his station for the manœuvre indicated by the call. The students, aware that they were simply to “show off,” were fully determined to astonish the wondering crowd on the decks.
“Stand by to lay aloft, the ready-men!” shouted the first lieutenant, as he received the order from the captain.
It was repeated by the second lieutenant on the forecastle, the third in the waist, and the fourth on the quarter-deck.
“All ready, sir!” reported the several officers.
“Lay aloft!”
At the command those whose duty it was to prepare the sails and rigging for the manœuvre sprang up the rigging, and in three minutes the midshipman aloft reported that all was ready.
“Lay aloft, sail-loosers!” continued the first lieutenant.
The seamen, who were arranged in proper order on deck, the royal yard men first, then those who belonged on the top-gallant yards, the topsail, and the lower yards, placed in succession, so that each could reach his station without passing others, leaped into the rigging, and went up like so many cats.
“Man the boom tricing-lines!”
These are ropes by which the studding-sail booms, which lie on the yards, are hauled up out of the way.
“Trice up!”
The studding-sail booms were drawn up.
“Lay out! Loose sails!”
The hands jumped upon the foot-ropes, and worked themselves out to their places on the yards, where they loosed the sails, overhauled the rigging, and made everything ready for the final evolution. The midshipman in the tops reported to the officers on deck when the preparations were completed, and the lieutenants on deck, in their turn, reported to the first lieutenant.
“Let fall!” said the executive officer; and all, as one, the sails dropped from the yards.
The precision of the movement called forth a demonstration of applause from the visitors. Mr. Clyde Blacklock stood with his mouth open, looking up at the students on the yards, but occasionally glancing at the “swellish” first lieutenant, who seemed to be the master-spirit of the occasion, because he spoke in a loud voice, while the captain, who really controlled the evolutions, could hardly be heard, except by the executive officer, to whom alone his order was given.
“Lay in! Lay down from aloft!” said the first lieutenant; and in a moment more all hands were on deck again.
“Do you ever man the yards, sir?” asked a gentleman of the principal.
“Occasionally, sir—not often. You are aware that it requires some preparation, for we are obliged to extend life-lines over the yards,” replied Mr. Lowington. “We are not in condition to do it now. If we should happen to be visited by the king at Copenhagenor Stockholm, and had previous notice, we should certainly do it.”
The crew were then required to go through the manœuvre of furling sails, which was performed with the same precision as the first evolution, and to the great satisfaction of the guests, who were then invited to visit the cabins and steerage of the ship.
“Mother, I like this thing,” said Mr. Clyde Blacklock.
“It’s all very,veryfine, Clyde,” replied the tender mother.
“And the ship’s going up the Baltic, and then up the Mediterranean.”
“Yes, Clyde.”
“And I want to go in her.”
“You, Clyde!”
“Yes, that’s what I say.”
“And be a sailor?”
“I always told you I wanted to be a sailor. Didn’t that head master, or whatever he is, say it would do me good to go to sea?”
“Perhaps he did, but I can’t go with you, my dear.”
“I don’t want you to go with me. I’m not a baby!” protested the indignant youth.
“But you are my only son, dear.”
“If you had forty only sons, it would be all the same to me. I say I want to go in this ship, and be a sailor.”
Mrs. Blacklock was appalled, and was sorely disturbed by the announcement of her son. The young gentleman insisted that he should be entered at onceas a member of the ship’s company. He suggested to his anxious mother that she could travel by land while he went by sea, and that she could see him every time the ship went into port. The lady appeared to see no alternative, but evidently felt compelled to yield to her son’s demand. It was plain enough, even to a casual observer, that Clyde was the head of the family. Mrs. Blacklock promised to speak to the principal, but she hoped he would not be able to take her son. Before she had an opportunity to make the application, the Orlando’s bell rang for her passengers to return. The sound seemed to be a relief to the lady; but Mr. Clyde put his foot down just there, and upset all her hopes.
“Come, Clyde; the Orlando is ready to go,” said she.
“Let her go,” replied the hopeful son.
“But we must go on board.”
“You may go. I’m off to sea in this ship.”
“Not now, my dear,” pleaded Mrs. Blacklock.
“Now’s the time. If you don’t speak to that head master yourself, I shall do so.”
“Not now, my dearest boy. This ship is going to Christiania, and we will speak to the gentleman on the subject when she arrives. Come, Clyde; the boat is waiting for us, and all the other passengers have gone.”
“You can’t fool me, mother. I’m going to sea now. I like this ship, and I rather like those swells of officers.”
Clyde positively refused to leave the ship, though his mother, almost in tears, begged him to accompany her.
“My son won’t go with me,” said she, as Mr. Lowington came towards her to ascertain the cause of their delay.
“If you desire, madam, the boatswain will put him into the boat for you,” replied the principal.
“Put me into the boat!” exclaimed the indignant youth. “I should be glad to see him do it!”
“Should you? Peaks!”
“On deck, sir,” replied the big boatswain, touching his cap to the principal.
“Pray, don’t, sir—don’t!” begged the lady. “Clyde wants to go to sea in your ship.”
“O, does he, indeed!” exclaimed the principal. “We have a vacant place, and he can be accommodated.”
The fond mother’s heart sank at this announcement. Mr. Lowington, though his experience with students of this description had been far from satisfactory, felt that his duty to humanity required him to take this boy, who was evidently on the high road to ruin through the weak indulgence of his mother.
A DAY AT CHRISTIANSAND.
“But, madam, your steamer seems to be on the point of starting,” suggested Mr. Lowington, as the Orlando rang her bell, and whistled violently.
“I cannot help it,” replied the lady, apparently taking no notice of the steamer. “I came over here on a pleasure excursion, and now I feel as though I had lost my son.”
“Lost him, madam! We intend to save him,” laughed Mr. Lowington. “But we have no claim upon him. If you desire to leave in the steamer, the boatswain shall put the boy on board whether he is willing or not.”
“No, no; that would be very,veryharsh. Let the steamer go. This matter is of vastly more consequence than going to Christiania. James,” she added, turning to the man in livery, “you will take the boat, get our baggage from the steamer, and take it to the hotel on shore.”
“Yes, mem,” replied James, as he very deliberately went over the side into the boat.
“This will be a sad day to me, sir,” continued Mrs. Blacklock, as she glanced at her son, who was whistling an air from the last opera, as indifferent as thoughhis mother had been at peace in her own drawing-room.
“I beg to repeat, madam, that I have not the slightest wish to take your son into this institution.”
“But Clyde insists upon joining the ship, and what can I do?”
“You can say no, if you please.”
“You had better not say it, mother; if you do, I will run away, and go to sea in a merchant ship,” added Clyde, shaking his head.
“You hear, sir, what he says,” replied Mrs. Blacklock, with a long and deep sigh.
“That would be the very best thing in the world for a boy troubled with his complaint,” answered Mr. Lowington.
“I have no complaint; I’m not sick,” growled Clyde.
“I’m afraid you are, my boy, though you don’t know it. The most dangerous maladies often make great progress even before their existence is suspected.”
“Nothing ails me,” added Clyde.
“This seems to be a very nice ship, and you say the students are all gentlemen,” continued the lady, glancing around her at the ship and the crew. “If Clyde must go to sea—”
“I must, mother,” interposed the young gentleman, very decidedly.
“If he must go to sea, he had better go with you, sir.”
“If you will walk into the cabin, madam, I will show you our regulations,” said the principal, leading the way down the steps.
Clyde followed, apparently unwilling that a word should be said which he could not hear.
“I want to speak with your mother alone,” interposed Mr. Lowington.
“I’m going too,” persisted Clyde, after Mrs. Blacklock had descended the stairs.
“I prefer to see your mother alone,” added the principal, firmly.
“You are going to talk about me, and I want to hear what is said,” replied the youth, rudely.
“Peaks, remain here,” said the principal to the big boatswain, who had followed them to the companionway.
Mr. Lowington descended the steps, and Peaks slipped in behind him, fully understanding his duty without any explanations. Clyde attempted to follow, but the entrance was effectually blockaded by the stalwart forward officer.
“Get out of my way; I want to go down there,” said Clyde, in no gentle tones.
“It can’t be done, my hearty,” replied Peaks.
“I’m going down, any way.”
“I think not, my little gentleman.”
“Yes, I am! Get out of my way.”
“Ease off, my hearty. Don’t get up a squall.”
“I want to see my mother,” growled Clyde.
“You were not invited to the cabin, and your mother was,” answered Peaks, very mildly.
“I don’t care if I wasn’t; I’m going down.”
“So you said before;” and the boatswain tried to pacify the youngster, and to induce him to be reasonable; but Clyde had always had his own way, andwas ready to fight for it now, even though he had nothing to gain by it.
Captain Cumberland was still walking with Miss Celia, explaining to her the nature of the discipline on board, and giving her an account of the voyage across the Atlantic. A group of the officers had collected on the quarter-deck, and, much amused at the scene, were observing the conduct of Clyde. As he became more violent, his sister tried to quiet him, and induce him to behave like a gentleman; but he replied to her in a tone and with words which made the captain’s cheeks tinge with indignation.
Finally, when he found that abuse had no effect upon the stout boatswain, he drew back, and made a desperate plunge at his heavy opponent. Peaks caught him by the shoulders, and lifted him off his feet like a baby. Taking him in his arms, with one hand over his mouth, to smother his cries, he bore him to the waist, where his yells could not be heard by his mother.
“Be quiet, little one,” said Peaks, as he seated himself on the main-hatch, and twined his long legs around those of the prisoner, so that he was held as fast as though he had been in the folds of an anaconda. “Hold still, now, and I’ll spin you a sea-yarn. Once on a time there was a little boy that wanted to go to sea—”
“Let me go, or I’ll kill you!” sputtered Clyde; but the boatswain covered his mouth again, and silenced him.
“Kill me! That would be wicked. But I’m not a mosquito, to be cracked in the fingers of such a dearlittle boy as you are. But you snapped off my yarn; and if you don’t hold still, I can’t spin it ship-shape.”
Clyde had well nigh exhausted his breath in his fruitless struggle, and before his sister went far enough forward to see him, he was tolerably calm, because he had no more strength to resist. Then the boatswain told his story of a boy that wanted to go to sea, but found that he could not have his own way on board the ship.
In the cabin, Mrs. Blacklock told a pitiful story of the wilfulness of her son; that she was obliged to do just as he said, and if he wanted anything, however absurd it might be, she was obliged to give it to him, or he made the house too “hot” for her. Her husband had died when the children were small, and the whole care of them had devolved on her. Clyde had made her miserable for several years. She had sent him to several celebrated schools; but he had got into trouble immediately, and she had been compelled to take him away, to prevent him from killing himself and her, as she expressed it. Her husband had left her a handsome property, but she was afraid her son would spend it all, or compel her to do so, before he became of age.
Mr. Lowington repeated only what most of her friends had told her before—that her weak indulgence would be the ruin of the boy; that he needed a strong arm. He was willing to take him into the Academy ship, but he must obey all the rules and follow all the regulations. The perplexed mother realized the truth of all he said.
“You will take him as an officer—won’t you, sir?”she asked, when she had in a measure reconciled herself to the discipline proposed.
“Certainly not, madam,” replied the principal. “If he ever becomes an officer, he must work himself up to that position, as the other students do.”
“But you could let him have one of the rooms in the cabin. I am willing to pay extra for his tuition.”
“No, madam; he must go with the other students, and do precisely as they do.”
“Where will his servant lodge?”
“His servant?”
“Yes, James. He will want a servant, for I don’t know that he ever dressed himself alone.”
“He can have no servant, except those of the ship.”
“That’s very,veryhard.”
“Perhaps it is, but if the boy can’t dress himself alone, he must lie in his berth till he acquires the art by hard thinking. I wish you to understand the matter thoroughly before you leave him, madam.”
Mrs. Blacklock struggled with the hard terms; but even to her the case seemed like a desperate one, and she was willing at last to try the experiment, though she intended to follow the ship wherever she went, to save him from suicide when his situation became absolutely hopeless. The terms arranged, she followed Mr. Lowington on deck, where Clyde was discovered in the loving embrace of the big boatswain, who released him as soon as he saw the lady.
“Now, Clyde, my dear, we have arranged it all,” said Mrs. Blacklock; and it ought to be added that such a result would have been utterly impossible if the subject of the negotiations had been present.
“I don’t care if you have,” replied Clyde, bestowing a fiery glance upon the boatswain, who was smiling as blandly as though earth had no naughty boys.
“Why, what’s the matter, Clyde!” demanded the anxious mother.
“I’ve had enough of this ship,” howled the little gentleman, as he glanced again at the stout forward officer.
The complacent face of Peaks maddened him, and Clyde felt that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he had lost a battle. He could not bear the sight of the boatswain’s placid features, unruffled by anything like anger or malice. He felt that he had not even provoked his powerful adversary. He howled in his anger, and then he cried in his desperation. Suddenly he seized a wooden belaying-pin from the rail, and shied it at the boatswain’s head. Peaks caught it in his hand, as though he had been playing toss-ball with his victim; but the next instant his anaconda fold encircled the youth again. Mrs. Blacklock screamed with terror.
“There is no harm done, madam,” interposed the principal. “We don’t allow boys to throw things here.”
“You are very,veryharsh with the poor boy.”
“And the poor boy is very, very harsh with us. He throws belaying-pins at our heads.”
“He did not mean any harm.”
“Perhaps not; but that’s an unpleasant way of manifesting his regard.”
“I’ve had enough of this ship! I won’t go in her!” howled Clyde, struggling to escape from the grasp of the officer.
“Do you hear that, sir? Poor boy!”
“He will soon learn better than to behave in this violent manner. We can cure him in ten minutes after you have left the ship.”
“What! whip him?” exclaimed the mother, with horror.
“No, madam; we never strike a student under any circumstances, unless it be in self-defence; but if a boy won’t go when ordered, we carry him. We always have force enough to do this without injury to the person.”
“But see the poor boy struggle!”
“It will do him no harm.”
“He says now that he will not go in the ship.”
“If I were his parent, it would be as I said, not as he said, after he had ceased to be reasonable. I would consult the wishes and opinions of a boy of mine, as long as he behaved properly—no longer. You have only to leave him, and I assure you he shall be treated as kindly as he will permit us to treat him. I do not wish to influence you, but I am confident that ruin lies in that boy’s path, unless he is reformed.”
Mrs. Blacklock actually wept. She loved the boy with a blind affection in spite of the disrespect and even abuse that he heaped upon her. It was a terrible struggle to her, but she finally decided to leave him on board of the ship, perhaps satisfied that nothing else could ever save him from himself, and her from the misery his reckless conduct constantly occasioned her.
“You wished to go to sea, Clyde, and I have decided to leave you in this ship,” said the poor mother, trembling with emotion.
“But I tell you I won’t stay in this ship,” roared Clyde, as Peaks, at a signal from the principal, released his prisoner.
“I can do nothing with you, my dear boy. You won’t obey me, and I must leave you to those who can control you. I am going on shore now, but I shall see you again at Christiania.”
“I won’t stay!” howled Clyde.
“Good by, Clyde,” said Mrs. Blacklock, desperately, as she folded her son in her arms, and kissed him on both cheeks.
“I tell you I won’t stay!” cried the angry youth, breaking away from his mother’s embrace.
“Make it short, madam,” suggested Mr. Lowington.
“Do try to be good, Clyde, and then you can come home very,verysoon,” added Mrs. Blacklock, as the principal conducted her to the accommodation ladder, where the first cutter had been manned to put her on shore.
“I tell you again, I won’t stay! If you leave me, I’ll jump overboard.”
“O!” groaned the weak mother.
“If you do, young man, we will pick you up with the greatest pleasure,” said Mr. Lowington, as he hurried the lady to the side.
“O, if he should!” gasped she.
“There is not a particle of danger, madam; Mr. Peaks will take excellent care of him,” replied her comforter.
The boatswain, at a nod from Mr. Lowington, again embraced Clyde, but did not injure him, nor permithim to injure himself. The lady was handed into the boat, and Captain Cumberland politely performed this service for Miss Blacklock. Of course the poor mother was in an agony of doubt and anxiety, but the students in the cutter seemed to be so cheerful, contented and gentlemanly, that she hoped for the best.
Clyde was appalled at the situation, and one of the stern realities of life seemed suddenly to dawn upon him. As soon as his mother disappeared over the side, he ceased to struggle, for he gained nothing by it, and the students appeared to be amused by his sufferings. Peaks released him, and the victim of wholesome discipline looked about him with a wondering stare; but there was no mother to cajole or intimidate, and he was thrown entirely upon his own resources for the means of resistance, if he purposed to resist. He appeared to be stupefied by the situation, and Mr. Lowington, taking advantage of his bewilderment, invited him into the main cabin, where he kindly but firmly “laid down the law” to him. Clyde was by no means conquered, but was rather considering how he should escape from this trying position. At the close of the interview, the principal handed the patient over to one of the stewards, and requested him to see the new comer clothed in the uniform of the ship. Peaks was directed to keep an eye on the victim while the crew were on shore.
All hands were soon seated in the boats, and in half an hour all the students in the squadron were turned loose in the streets of Christiansand. Though the instructors were of the party, they were not required to exercise any particular supervision over their pupils.There was hardly anything to be seen, and as a large number of the students had never crossed the Atlantic before, they wanted to know if they had come so far to see such a town. Most of the houses were of wood, but they were neat and well kept. As the capital of the province of Christiansand, the town was the residence of the Stift Amtmand, or governor, and of the bishop of the diocese. It was founded in 1641, and having an excellent harbor, it is a place of considerable commercial importance, having a population of about ten thousand.
The boys visited the cathedral, which is a fine building of gray stone, and being the first which most of them had seen, it had a considerable interest to them. They observed the people, and their manners and customs, so far as they could, with more interest than the buildings, which differed in no important respect from those in the United States. Passing across the water front of the town, they came to the Torrisdal River, over which there is an excellent bridge. They crossed the stream, and walked to an antiquated church. Some of the houses on the way were very neat, pretty structures, not unlike the one-story dwellings seen all over New England.
“Here’s a Runic stone,” said Dr. Winstock, as the captain and several of the officers followed him into the burying-ground connected with the ancient church.
“What is a Runic stone?” asked Lincoln, the third lieutenant.
“A stone with Runic characters upon it.”
“I haven’t the least idea what the word means, though Poe sings, in the ‘Bells,’——
‘Keeping time, time, time,In a sort of Runic rhyme!’
Runic is derived from a word which means secret; and a Runic stone is any memorial, table, or column, on which Runic characters are inscribed, as a tombstone, a boundary mark. There are sixteen of these characters, forming an alphabet, which were used by the ancient Scandinavians, and were thought by them to possess magical properties, and willow wands inscribed with them were used by the pagans of the north in their magic rites. Sticks were used as almanacs, to keep the account of the days and months, and also constituted the day-books and ledgers of the ancients. In Germany, in modern times, the baker, for example, and the purchaser of bread, each had a stick, and the number of loaves delivered was notched upon both. Scarcely less primitive was the custom of some of our American farmers, who kept their accounts on the barn door; and I have heard a story of one who, when required to produce his books in court at a lawsuit, carried in the barn door, and held it up before the judge and jury. In Denmark and Sweden you will see more Runic writings, especially in the museum at Copenhagen.”
“They seem to bury people here, in about the same manner as with us,” said Captain Cumberland.
“There is not half so much difference between things here and those at home as I expected to find,” added Judson.
“The houses are almost the same, and so are the people,” continued Norwood.
“People coming to Europe are often disappointedbecause they find almost everything so near like what they have been accustomed to,” replied the doctor. “You will find Norway and Sweden more like New England than any other countries on the continent. But I think you will find differences enough to excite your interest and attention before you return.”
The students walked back to Christiansand, and having exhausted the town, went on board the vessels of the squadron, ready and even anxious to continue the voyage. The pilots were on deck, Paul Kendall and lady had returned to the Grace, and the principal only waited the arrival of the steamer Moss, from Frederiksværn, to give the order to get under way. The boats were all hoisted up except the first cutter, which was to bring off the unfortunate crew of the professor’s barge, as soon as they arrived.
At eight o’clock the steamer came in, and the first cutter, with the principal on board, hastened to her landing-place, to meet Sanford and his companions. To his great astonishment and regret, they were not on board of the Moss. The captain, who spoke English very well, knew nothing about the absentees, and was quite confident they were not on board of the Foldin, the boat which had picked them up. Captain Hoell had said nothing to him about the accident, but then the Foldin had arrived only that morning, instead of the night before, when she was due, and their interview had been very hurried. “Did any person in the Moss know anything about the unfortunates?” the captain was kind enough to inquire; and a passenger was found who heard some one say that a party of young men had been landed by the Foldin at Lillesand.But the Moss had left Lillesand at six o’clock, and her captain had not seen or heard of the persons described. Mr. Lowington was very anxious about the fate of the second cutter’s crew, and feared that some of them had been injured by the collision, so that they were unable to take the steamer back to Christiansand. He returned to the cutter and pulled off to the Tritonia, and directed Mr. Tompion, the second vice-principal, in charge of her, to run into Lillesand, and ascertain what had become of the absentees. Without waiting for the signal, the Tritonia got under way, and under full sail, with a fresh breeze, stood out of the harbor. The other vessels followed her soon after, the principal intending to lay off and on till the Tritonia reported.
The ship had been searched from keel to truck for Ole Amundsen on the day before. Of course he was not found, and the conclusion was that he had dropped into the water and swam ashore, though it was difficult to understand how he had accomplished the feat without detection. Inquiries in regard to him were made on shore, but if any one knew him, application was not made to the right persons.
Mr. Clyde Blacklock had not yet jumped overboard, and during the busy scene of getting under way, he stood with his mouth agape, watching the proceedings with wondering interest. He was not quite sure, after his anger had subsided, that he had made a bad bargain. There was something rather pleasant in the motion of the ship, and the zeal and precision with which the students worked, showed that they enjoyed their occupation. No one noticed Clyde, or evenseemed to be aware of his presence. Before, when he behaved in an extravagant and unreasonable manner, the boys only laughed at him. They did not beg him to be pacified, as his mother and James always did; on the contrary they seemed to enjoy his chagrin.
As soon as the ship was under way, the new student was informed that he belonged to the port watch, second part, and the silver star, which designated his watch, was affixed to his left arm. He was told that he would be called with the others to take his turn on deck during the night.
“What am I to do?” he asked, rather blankly.
“Just the same as the others do?” replied De Forrest, the fourth lieutenant, who had the deck with the second part of the port watch. “I have your station bill.”
“What’s that?”
“It is a card on which all your duties are explained. Here it is,” added De Forrest, producing the station bill. “You are No. 71; all the even numbers belong to the starboard watch, and all the odd numbers to the port.”
These cards were all printed; for among the various amusements provided for the students, a couple of octavo Novelty presses, with a sufficient supply of type and other printing material had been furnished. All the blanks for use in the ship were printed on board, and the Oceanic Enterprise, a weekly Journal, had been regularly issued during the voyage across the Atlantic, though a gale of wind, which disturbed the equilibrium of the press and the printers, had delayed its publication a couple of days on one occasion.
Clyde read the station bill which was handed to him by the officer, but it would have been just as intelligible to him if it had been in Runic character.
“‘Reefing, main-topsail, and main-topsail halyards,’” said Clyde, reading from the card. “What does all that mean?”
“You mind only what you have to do yourself, and not trouble your head about orders that have nothing to do with your work; for the orders come as thick as snow flakes at Christmas. When all hands are called to reef topsails, you are one of them, of course. When any thing is said about topsails, or topsail-halyards, you are the man.”
“Good; I understand that, and I shall make a sailor, I know,” added Clyde.
“I hope you will. The order will come to ‘settle away the topsail halyards.’ Be ready to help then.”
“But I don’t know the topsail halyards from a pint of soup.”
“Here they are,” added the lieutenant, conducting his pupil to the rail, and pointing out the main-topsail halyards. “Then, when the officer says, ‘Aloft, top-men,’ you will run up the main rigging here, and the midshipman in the top will tell you what to do. At the word, you will lay out on the yard, and do as the others do. At the words, ‘Lay down from aloft,’ you will come on deck, and hoist up the main-topsail. Nearly all your duty is connected with the main-topsail. In tacking, you will go to the clew-garnets.”
“What are they?”
“These ropes, by which the corners of the mainsail are hauled up,” answered De Forrest, pointing out theclew-garnets. “You will also let go the main tack. In getting under way, you will help loose the main-topsail. In anchoring, you are at the main clew-lines, and the main brace. Here they are. In loosing and furling you are on the main-topsail. In boat service, you are attached to the third cutter. You sleep in berth No. 71, your ship’s number, and eat with mess No. 6.”
De Forrest, as instructed by the principal, carefully explained the duties of the new comer, indicating every rope as he mentioned it, and describing its use. He was prudent in his manner, and tried to give the proud youth no offence by making him feel the superiority of an officer. The lieutenant then conducted him to his mess room, and pointed out his berth.
The wind was still from the southward, and quite fresh; and though the squadron went under short sail, it was off Lillesand in a couple of hours. The Tritonia, which was a fast vessel, did not detain her consorts more than a couple of hours. Mr. Tompion boarded the ship, and reported that the crew of the second cutter had landed at Lillesand, and fearing that they should miss the ship if they returned to Christiansand, had taken carioles, and left early in the morning for Christiania. There were ten of the party, and one of them was a Norwegian, though he was dressed like the others. Mr. Lowington could not imagine who the Norwegian was that wore the Academy’s uniform, for it did not occur to him that Ole could have joined them. He was glad to hear that all of them were well, and able to travel; and had no doubt they would arrive in safety at Christiania. He wasaware that the crew of the second cutter were rather wild boys; but as there were no large towns in the interior, he had no fear that they would be led astray among the simple Norwegians.
The fleet filled away again, and at eight bells the following morning was off Frederiksværn.
UP THE CHRISTIANIA FJORD.
“I should like to know where this place is,” said Ryder, the second master, as he appeared upon the quarter-deck of the ship, with one of the forty bound volumes of Harper’s Magazine, which were contained in the library.
“What place?” asked Lincoln, the third lieutenant, as he glanced at the volume.
“That’s more than I know; but here is a picture of a steamer between two high bluffs of rock, and under it, she is said to be entering the fjord.”
“We are just at the mouth of the fjord now, and if there are any such rocks as those here, I should like to see them. Why, you see they rise above the steamer’s main-topmast.”
Lincoln took the book, and read the description; but he was none the wiser for his labor, for the narrow strait through which the steamer in the picture was passing was not particularly described. The book was shown to the pilot, who did not know just where the place was; but after he had been told that the steamer came from Gottenburg, and was on her way to Christiania, he thought that the bold rocks must be in the vicinity of Frederiksværn. He offeredto take the ship through the pass, as the wind was fair, and Mr. Lowington consented that he should do so, for in order to enable the students to see the fine scenery on the fjord, the studies were to be laid aside for the day.
“I don’t see where there can be anything like this,” said Ryder, as he surveyed the shores.
“There are plenty of islands here, but certainly none of them rise to any such heights as those in the picture,” replied Lincoln. “They are bare rocks out at sea, but some of them are a little green farther in. It don’t begin to be so wild as I supposed it was in these parts. Why, I have read and heard so much about the Christiania Fjord, that I supposed it was the grandest scenery in the world.”
“It don’t look much like the picture—does it?” laughed Ryder.
In a short time the ship was approaching the narrow pass. The cliffs on each side were very bold and rugged, and if the students had not been feasting themselves with grand anticipations, they would have appreciated the scenery much better. Ryder and Lincoln laughed when they compared the reality with the pictures they had. The scenery could not be called grand, though it was certainly very fine. The strait was very narrow, and on each side of it rings were fastened in the rocks, which were painted white around them, for the convenience of vessels warping out in a calm or against the wind. On the high rock,—it could not have been a hundred feet high,—at the right, was a small fort, which looked grim and terrible in its way, but which any well-orderedman of war, with modern ordnance, could have battered down in half an hour.
Passing through the strait, the ship came in sight of the small village of Frederiksværn, which is a naval station, where a number of gunboats are housed in a series of uniform buildings. The town itself is only a hamlet, but as the vessels proceeded, those on board saw Laurvig at the head of the bay, which is a place of considerable importance.
“Little Fœrder,” said the pilot, an hour later, as he pointed to a tall, red light-house, at the entrance of the fjord.
“Then the land we see beyond must be Sweden,” added Ryder.
“Sverige,” nodded the pilot.
“I suppose that is Sweden, but I don’t see the use of having half a dozen names to a country.”
“And this isNorge,” added the second master, pointing to the other side.
“Yes,Norge,” answered the pilot, pleased to hear the young officer apply the Norwegian name.
On the port hand of the ship was a vast sea of rocky islands, of all shapes and sizes. Those farthest from the mainland were entirely destitute of soil or verdure; but in the distance a few pines, and the fresh tints of the early grass, could be seen.
“Keep her north-north-east,” said the pilot.
“Man the weather and stand by the lee braces!” shouted the first lieutenant.
Clyde Blacklock took out his station card, and looked to see whether the order applied to him.
“You are on the main brace,” said Scott, a good-naturedyoung tar, who happened to be near the new student. “There you are, on the weather side.”
“Who spoke to you?” demanded Clyde, dropping his card, and looking Scott in the face.
“I haven’t been introduced to you, I know; but I thought you wanted to know your duty,” laughed Scott.
“You take care of yourself, and I’ll mind my own duty,” growled Clyde.
“All right, my lad,” replied the good-natured student, whose station was at the weather fore brace.
Clyde walked aft, and placed himself in the line of those who were to haul on the weather main brace.
“Slack the lee, and haul on the weather braces,” said the first lieutenant, and the other officers repeated the order.
“Walk away with it!” shouted the fourth lieutenant to those at the main brace.
Clyde took hold, and tugged with all his might; but the brace would not come away. To tell the exact truth, there was a disposition among the students to haze the new comer, and the main brace men had agreed among themselves to let him do the whole of the work. They pretended to haul, but not one of them bore a pound upon the brace.
“Pull!” shouted Clyde, at the top of his lungs, as he strained at the rope. “Why don’t you pull, boys?”
“Silence on the quarter-deck!” cried the executive officer—for all work was required to be performed in silence. “Walk away with the main brace.”
“Come, boys, why don’t you pull?” roared Clyde, who was blest with a pair of hearty lungs.
“Silence, Blacklock! You mustn’t hollo like that when you are on duty,” interposed De Forrest.
“Who says I mustn’t?” demanded Clyde, dropping his hold upon the brace, and walking up to the officer who had dared to give him these words of counsel, which were uttered in a mild and pleading tone, rather than in those of authority.
“Starboard the helm,” said the executive officer.
“Starboard, sir,” repeated the quartermaster at the wheel.
“Walk away with that main brace!” added the first lieutenant.
The main brace men, finding that Clyde was at issue with the fourth lieutenant, applied themselves to their work, and the main yard swung round.
“Steady!” said the executive officer.
“Steady, sir.”
“Avast hauling! Belay, all.”
By these manœuvres the ship had been kept away, and was now headed directly up the fjord.
“I don’t allow any fellow to speak to me like that,” blustered Clyde. “I want you to understand that I am a gentleman.”
“Go forward, Blacklock, and don’t make a row on the quarter-deck,” replied De Forrest, mildly.
“I’ll not go forward!”
“Then I must report you to the first lieutenant.”
“I’m willing to do my work, but I won’t be fagged by any nob in gold lace.”
“You are making a mistake, Blacklock,” said DeForrest, in a low tone, as he walked towards the angry Briton, with the intention of reasoning with him upon the absurdity of his conduct.
Mr. Lowington had cautioned him and other officers to be very prudent in dealing with the new student till he had become accustomed to his duty, and certainly De Forrest was prudent in the extreme. Perhaps Clyde misunderstood the purpose of this officer when approaching him, and suspected that he intended to use violence, for, drawing back, he made a pass at De Forrest with his fist. But the latter detected the nature of the demonstration in season to ward off the blow, and, still in the exercise of the extreme prudence which had before characterized his conduct, retreated to the other side of the quarter-deck.
“Enough of that,” said Judson, the first lieutenant, as he stepped between Clyde and De Forrest.
Clyde was very angry. Though he had made up his mind to perform his duty in the beginning, he fancied that no one had the right to command him to be silent. In his wrath he pulled off his blue jacket, tossed it upon the deck with a flourish, and intimated that if the first lieutenant wanted to fight, he was ready for him. Happily the first lieutenant did not wish to fight, though he was fully prepared to defend himself. At this crisis, the principal observed the hostile attitude of the young Briton, and quietly ordered Peaks to interfere.
“Go forward, Blacklock,” said Judson, calmly.
“I won’t go forward! I have been insulted, and I’ll break the sconce of the fellow that did it,” added Clyde, glancing at the fourth lieutenant.
“Come, my hearty, let us go forward, as we are ordered,” interposed Peaks, as he picked up Clyde in his arms, and in spite of his struggles, carried him into the waist.
It was useless to resist the big boatswain, and the pressure of Peaks’s arms soon crushed out Clyde’s anger, and like a little child, he was set down upon the deck, amid the laughter of his companions. He felt that he was not getting ahead at all; and though he reserved the expression of his anger, he determined at the first convenient opportunity to thrash both Judson and De Forrest. He had also decided to run away at the first chance, even if he had to camp on a desolate island in doing so. He regarded Peaks as a horrible ogre, whose only mission in the ship was to persecute and circumvent him.
“I’ll have it out with those nobs yet,” said Clyde, as Peaks left him, restored to his senses, so far as outward appearances were concerned.
“Have it out! Have what out?” asked Scott, the good-natured.
“I’ll whip that nob who told me to be silent.”
“Don’t you do it, my jolly Briton,” laughed Scott.
“I can do it.”
“Do you mean the first lieutenant?”
“Yes, that I do; and I’ll teach him better manners.”
“I wouldn’t hurt him; Judson’s a good fellow.”
“I don’t care if he is; he’ll catch it; and De Forrest, too. They insulted me.”
“I dare say they didn’t mean to.”
“If they didn’t, I’ll give them a chance to apologize,”added Clyde, a little mollified by the mild words of his companion.
“That’s very kind of you; but officers don’t often apologize to seamen for telling them of it when they disobey the rules of the ship.”
“Rules or not, I’ll hammer them both if they don’t apologize.”
“Don’t be cruel with them,” laughed Scott.
“And that big boatswain—I’ll be even with him yet,” blustered Clyde, as he shook his head menacingly.
“Are you going to thrash him too?” asked Scott, opening his eyes.
“I’ll take care of him. He don’t toss me round in that way without suffering for it.”
“Well, don’t hurt him,” suggested the good-natured seaman.
“He’ll get a broken head before he grows much older,” added Clyde, drawing out a belaying-pin from the fife-rail. “I shall not be in this ship a great while longer; but I mean to stay long enough to settle my accounts with the big boatswain and the two nobs on the quarter-deck.”
“How are you going to do it, my dear Albion?”
“Leave that to me. No man can insult me without suffering for it.”
“Perhaps the officers will apologize, but I don’t believe Peaks will. He’s an obstinate fellow, and would do just what the principal told him to do, even if it was to swallow you and me, and half a dozen other fellows. You don’t mean to lick the principal too—do you?”
“I haven’t had any trouble with him.”
“But he is at the bottom of it all. He told Peaks to persecute you. I’m not sure that the principal isn’t more to blame than all the others put together.”
“No matter for him; he has done very well.”
“Then you mean to let him off?”
“I say I’ve nothing against the head master.”
“Don’t be too hard on Peaks,” added Scott, as he climbed upon the rail to see the scenery of the fjord.
“I suppose all these islands, points, bays, and channels have names, just as they do on the other side of the ocean,” said Laybold, at whose side the good-natured tar seated himself.
“Of course,” nodded Scott.
“I wonder what they are.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Certainly not—how should I?”
“I didn’t know but you might have seen the chart,” added Scott, gravely.
“There’s a town!” exclaimed the enthusiastic Laybold, as the progress of the ship opened a channel, at the head of which was a village, with a church.
“I see; that’s Bossenboggenberg,” said Scott.
“O, is it? Is that a river?”
“Not at all. That’s only a channel, called the Hoppenboggen, which extends around the Island of Toppenboggen. That channel is navigable for small vessels.”
“Where did you learn all those names?” demanded Laybold, amazed at the astonishing words which his companion rolled off so glibly.
“My father had to send me to sea to keep me fromlearning too much. My hair all fell off, and the schoolmasters were afraid of me.”
“There’s another town ahead on the port hand,” said Laybold, a little later.
“That is Aggerhousenboggen, I think. Let me see; here’s Cape Tingumboggen, and that must be the opening to the Stoppenboggen Fjord. Yes, that must be Aggerhousenboggen.”
“Where did you learn to pronounce Norwegian so well, Scott?”
“O, I learned Norwegian when I was an infant. I could speak it first rate before I learned to utter my mother tongue.”
“Go ’way!” protested Laybold. “Do you know what island that is on the starboard hand.”
“To be sure I do. Do you think my education has been neglected to that extent? That’s Steppenfetchenboggen. A very fine island it is, too,” continued Scott, rattling off the long names so that they had a decidedly foreign ring.
“I don’t see how you can pronounce those words,” added Laybold. “They would choke me to death.”
“I don’t believe they would,” laughed Scott.
The squadron passed through several narrow passages, and then came to a broad expanse of water at the mouth of the Drammen River. The students were perched on the rail and in the rigging of the various vessels, observing with great interest the development of the panorama, which seemed to be unrolled before them.
“It is rather fine scenery,” said Lincoln, who still carried the book in his hand, and occasionally glancedat the pictures; “but I think the artist here must have multiplied the height of the cliffs by two, and divided the height of houses, men, and masts by the same number.”
“It certainly looks like an exaggeration,” replied Ryder.
“Look at this,” added Lincoln, pointing to a scene on the coast of Norway. “There’s a large steamer carrying a top-gallant yard on the foremast. That mast is probably a hundred and fifty feet high, and there are hills and bluffs beyond it—which would lose by the perspective—five times as high.”
“Still it is very fine scenery.”
“So it is; but no finer than we have on the coast of Maine. You remember last summer we went through the Reach, down by Machias? That was something like this, and quite as pleasant.”
“We mustn’t be too critical, Lincoln,” laughed Ryder.
“I don’t intend to be critical; but I had an idea, from the pictures I have seen, that Christiania Fjord was something like the Saguenay River, where the cliffs rise perpendicularly four or five hundred feet high. These pictures would certainly lead one to expect such sights.”
“Horton,” said the pilot, pointing to a town which now came into view, as the vessel passed beyond a point of land.
It was a small place, in appearance not unlike a New England village. At the wharf were a couple of small steamers, one of which had come down the Drammen, and the entire population of the townseemed to have turned out on the occasion, for the shore was covered with people. They were all neatly dressed. On the opposite side of the fjord was the town of Moss, where the convention by which Norway and Sweden were united was drawn up and agreed upon.
The fleet sailed rapidly before the fresh breeze across the broad expanse, and then entered a narrow passage. There was a gentle declivity on each side of the fjord, which was covered, as far as the eye could see, with pines. Dröbak, on the right, is a village of one street, on the side of the hill. The houses are mostly of one story, painted yellow, with roofs covered with red tile. Before noon the passage began to widen, and the fleet entered another broad expanse of water, filled with rocky islands, at the head of which stood the city of Christiania. Some of the islets were pretty and picturesque, in some instances having a single cottage upon them, with a little garden. The rocks were often of curious formation, and the shore of one island was as regular and smooth as though it had been a piece of masonry. After rounding a point of rocks, the fleet came into full view of Christiania. The city and its environs are spread out on the southern slope of a series of hills, and presents a beautiful landscape to the eye. On the left the country was covered with villas, prominent among which was Oscarshal, a summer palace of the late king. On the right was the castle of Agershuus, rising abruptly from the water. At a little distance from the town was a kind of hotel, built on a picturesque island, with its pretty landing-place, not unlike some similar establishmentsnear the head of Narragansett Bay. At the wharf in front of the city, and lying in the bay, was a considerable number of steamers, some of them quite large. The fleet ran up to the front of the city and anchored.
“This is the end of my voyage,” said Clyde Blacklock, when everything had been put in order on board of the ship.
“You are not going yet—are you?” laughed Scott.
“Very soon.”
“I thought you were going to stop, and whip Peaks and the two lieutenants.”
“Time enough for that. I suppose the ship will stay here two or three days—won’t she?”
“Perhaps a week. I suppose we shall go on shore this afternoon, and see the sights.”
“I say, Scott, if you tell those officers what I’ve been saying to you, I’ll serve you in the same way,” added Clyde, as for the first time it occurred to him that he had been imprudent in developing his plans to another.
“No! You won’t lick me, too—will you?”
“Not if you behave like a man, and don’t peach,” answered Clyde, in a patronizing tone.
“I will try to be a good boy, then,” laughed Scott.
“I only want to catch them on shore, where I can have fair play. I’m not to be fagged by any fellow that ever was born.”
Clyde walked uneasily about the deck till the crew were piped to dinner, evidently thinking how he should carry his big intentions into execution. To one less moved by fancied insults and indignities the casewould have looked hopeless. He devoured his dinner in a much shorter period than is usually allotted by well-bred Englishmen to that pleasing diversion, and hastened on deck again. Peaks was there, acting as ship-keeper, while the carpenter was painting the second cutter, the repairs upon which had been completed. The big boatswain was seated on one of the cat-heads, where he could see the entire deck of the ship, and observe every craft that approached her. The new student observed his position, and thought he was seated in a very careless manner. A very wicked thought took possession of the Briton’s mind, and he ascended to the top-gallant forecastle. The boatswain sat very composedly on the cat-head, with his feet hanging over the water, and was just then studying the beauties of the landscape. A very slight exercise of force would displace him, and drop him into the water.
“Well, my hearty, you stowed your grub in a hurry,” said Peaks, when he discovered the new pupil.
“I was not very hungry, and thought I would take another look at the town,” replied Clyde. “What’s that big building off there, near the hills?”
“That may be the county jail, the court-house, or the lunatic asylum. I haven’t the least idea what it is,” answered Peaks, indifferently. “The professors can tell you all about those things.”
“I wonder where that ship came from?” added Clyde, pointing to a vessel which was standing in ahead of the Young America.
“That isn’t a ship,” replied Peaks, as he turned partly round, so that he could see the craft. “That’s a’mofferdite brig; or, as bookish people would say, an hermaphrodite brig—half brig and half schooner. You must call things, especially vessels, by their right names, or you will fall in the opinion of—”
At that instant the big boatswain dropped into the deep waters of the fjord.
“And you will fall, in my opinion,” said Clyde, as, taking advantage of his antagonist’s attention to the brig, he gave him a smart push, which displaced him from the cat-head.
But Peaks, who was half man and half fish, was as much at home in the water as on the deck, and struck out for the cable, by which the ship was anchored, as the nearest point of support. Clyde walked along the rail till he came to the swinging-boom, where the boats which had been lowered for use after dinner were fastened. Climbing out on the boom, he dropped down by the painter into the third cutter, one of the four-oar boats. Bitts, the carpenter, who had been the only person on board except the boatswain, was in the waist busily at work upon the boat, and did not observe that anything unusual had transpired. Clyde had practised gymnastics a great deal, and was an active, agile fellow. Casting off the painter of the third cutter, he worked her astern, so as to avoid Peaks. Then, shipping a pair of oars, he pulled for the shore.
In the mean time, the boatswain, disdaining to call for assistance, and not having observed the movements of Clyde, climbed up the cable to the hawse-hole, and then, by the bowsprit guys, made his way to the top-gallant forecastle, where he discovered the Briton in the cutter, pulling with all his might for the shore.Shaking the water from his clothes, he hastened to the main cabin, and informed the principal that the new scholar had left the ship.
“Left the ship!” exclaimed Mr. Lowington. “Were you not on deck while the students were at dinner?”
“Yes, sir, most of the time; but just at the moment when the young sculpin left the ship, I happened to be in the water,” answered Peaks, shrugging his shoulders like a Frenchman, and glancing at his wet garments.
“How came you in the water?”
“The little Britisher pushed me overboard, when I was sitting on the cat-head.”
“I see,” added the principal. “We must get him back before his mother arrives.”
By this time most of the students had come up from the steerage, and the order was given to pipe away the first cutter. Peaks was directed to change his clothes, and go in her. He was ready by the time the crew were in their seats, for, as he was not a fashionable man, his toilet was soon made. The boats from the other vessels of the fleet, including those of the yachts, were already on their way to the town. The first cutter pulled to the shore; but Clyde had already landed, and disappeared in the city.
As at Christiansand, Paul Kendall and lady decided to remain on shore during the stay of the fleet. They had several pieces of baggage, and the custom-house officers on the wharf were obliged to examine them, after which they followed a porter to the Victoria Hotel, which was said to be the best in the place. Peaks found a man who could speak English, and immediatelyapplied himself to the business of finding the runaway. Clyde had been seen going up one of the streets, but no one knew anything about him.
The fugitive felt that he had achieved a victory. He had “paid off” the big boatswain, and no fellow on board of the ship could believe that he had not kept his word. He walked up the street till he came to Dronningensgaden. People looked at him as though he were a stranger, and he became aware that his uniform was exciting attention. In the Kirkegade he found a clothing store, in which the shop-keeper spoke English. In changing his dress on board of the ship, he had retained the contents of his pockets, including a well-filled purse. He selected a suit of clothes which pleased him, and immediately put it on. At another store he bought a hat, and then he appeared like a new being. With the bundle containing his uniform, he walked till he found a carriage, in which he seated himself, and ordered the driver to leave him at the Victoria Hotel. He thought it would only be necessary for him to keep out of sight till evening, when his mother would probably arrive in the Foldin, and he was confident he could induce her to withdraw him from the Academy. He would stay in his room the rest of the day, and by that time the search for him, if any was made, would be ended.
“I want a nice room for myself, another for my mother and sister, who will arrive this evening, and a place for the man,” said Clyde, as the porter of the hotel touched his cap, and helped him out of the carriage.
The young man was evidently a person of some importance.The porter, the clerk, and the head waiter, who came out to receive him, bowed low. A man took his bundle, and he was ushered to a room on the ground floor. As he crossed the court, he discovered several of the Orlando’s passengers in the reading-room. He had not entered his chamber before there was another arrival,—Paul Kendall and lady,—who were assigned to the next room.