CHAPTER I.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE MARINES.
“Land, ho!” shouted the lookout in the foretop ofthe Tritonia.
“Where away?” demanded the officer of the deck,as he glanced in the direction the land was expected tobe found.
“Broad on the weather bow,” returned the seamanin the foretop.
“Mr. Raimundo,” said the officer of the deck, whowas the third lieutenant, calling to the second master.
“Mr. Scott,” replied the officer addressed, touchinghis cap to his superior.
“You will inform the captain, if you please, that thelookout reports land on the weather bow.”
The second master touched his cap again, and hastenedto the cabin to obey the order. The academysquadron, consisting of the steamer American Princeand the topsail schooners Josephine and Tritonia,were bound from Genoa to Barcelona. They had ashort and very pleasant passage, and the studentson board of all the vessels were in excellent spirits.Though they had been seeing sights through all thepreceding year, they were keenly alive to the pleasureof visiting a country so different as Spain from anyother they had seen. The weather was warm andpleasant for the season, and the young men were anxiouslylooking forward to the arrival at Barcelona. Onthe voyage and while waiting in Genoa, they hadstudied up all the books in the library that containedany thing about the interesting land they were next tovisit.
The Tritonia sailed on the starboard, and the Josephineon the port quarter, of the American Prince.The two consorts had all sail set, and were makingabout eight knots an hour, which was only half speedfor the steamer, to which she had been reduced in orderto keep company with the sailing vessels. Thoughthe breeze was tolerably fresh, the sea was smooth,and the vessels had very little motion. The skies wereas blue and as clear as skies can ever be; and nothingcould be more delicious than the climate.
In the saloon of the steamer and the steerage of theschooners, which were the schoolrooms of the academysquadron, one–half of the students of the fleet wereengaged in their studies and recitations. A quarterwatch was on duty in each vessel, and the same portionwere off duty. But the latter were not idle: they were,for the most part, occupied in reading about the newland they were to visit; and the more ambitious werepreparing for the next recitation. Their positions onboard for the next month would depend upon theirmerit–roll; and it was a matter of no little consequenceto them whether they were officers or seamen, whetherthey lived in the cabin or steerage. Some were strugglingto retain the places they now held, and otherswere eager to win what they had not yet attained.
There were from two to half a dozen in each vesselwho did only what they were obliged to do, either inscholarship or seamanship. At first, ship’s duty hadbeen novel and pleasant to them; and they had donewell for a time,—had even struggled hard with theirlessons for the sake of attaining creditable places asofficers and seamen. They had been kindly and generouslyencouraged as long as they deserved it; but,when the novelty had worn away, they dropped back towhat they had been before they became students of theacademy squadron. Mr. Lowington labored hard overthe cases of these fellows; and, next to getting the fleetsafely into port, his desire was to reform them.
In the Tritonia were four of them, who had alsochallenged the attention and interest of Mr. AugustusPelham, the vice–principal in charge of the vessel, whohad formerly been a student in the academy ship, andwho had been a wild boy in his time. The interestwhich Mr. Lowington manifested in these waywardfellows had inspired the vice–principal to follow hisexample. Possibly the pleasant weather had some influenceon the laggards; for they seemed to be veryrestive and uneasy under restraint as the squadronapproached the coast of Spain. All four of them werein the starboard watch, and in the second part thereof,where they had been put so that the vice–principal couldknow where to find them when he desired to watch themat unusual hours.
The third lieutenant was the officer of the deck,assisted by the second master. The former was plankingthe weather side of the quarter deck, and the latterwas moving about in the waist. The captain came ondeck, and looked at the distant coast through his glass;but it was an old story, and he remained on deck buta few minutes. Raimundo, the officer in the waist, wasa Spaniard, and the shore on the starboard was that of“his own, his native land.” But this fact did not seemto excite any enthusiasm in his mind: in fact, he reallywished it had been somebody else’s native land, and hedid not wish to go there. He bestowed more attentionupon the four idlers, who had coiled themselves awayin the lee side of the waist, than upon the shadowyshore of the home of his ancestors. He was a sharpofficer; and this was his reputation on board. Hecould snuff mischief afar off; and more than oneconspiracy had been blighted by his vigilance. Heseemed to be gazing at the clear blue sky, and to beenjoying its azure transparency; but he had an eye tothe laggards all the time.
“I wonder what those marines are driving at,” saidhe to himself, after he had studied the familiar phenomenonfor a while, and, as it appeared, without anysatisfactory result. “I never see those four fellowstalking together as long as they have been at it, withoutan earthquake or some sort of a smash followingpretty soon after. I suppose they are going to runaway, for that is really the most fashionable sport onboard of all the vessels of the fleet.”
Perhaps the second master was right, and perhapshe was wrong. Certainly running away had been thegreatest evil that had tried the patience of the principal;but there had been hardly a case of it since thesquadron came into the waters of the Mediterranean,and he hoped the practice had gone out of fashion. Ithad been so unsuccessful, that most of the studentsregarded it as a played–out expedient.
Raimundo was one of those whom this nautical institutionhad saved to be a blessing, instead of a curse, tothe community; but he was truly reformed, and, overand above his duty as an officer, he was sincerely desirousto save the “marines” from the error of theirways. He did not expect them to uncover their plansall at once, and he was willing to watch and wait.
Having viewed the marines from the officer’s side ofthe question, we will enter into the counsels of thosewho were the subjects of this official scrutiny. Afterthe first few months of life in the squadron, these fourfellows had been discontented and dissatisfied. Theyhad been transferred from one vessel to another, in thehope that they might find their appropriate sphere; butthere seemed to be no sphere below—at least, as faras they had gone—where they could revolve and shine.They had been “sticks,” wherever they were. Onecountry seemed to be about the same as any other tothem. They did not like to study; they did not liketo “knot and splice;” they did not like to stand watch;they did not like to read even stories, fond as theywere of yarns of the coarser sort; they did not like todo any thing but eat, sleep, and loaf about the deck, or,on shore, but to dissipate and indulge in rowdyism.Two of them had been transferred to the Tritonia fromthe Prince at Genoa, and the other two had been in theschooner but two months.
“I’m as tired as death of this sort of thing,” saidBill Stout, the oldest and biggest fellow of the four.
“I had enough of it in a month after I came onboard,” added Ben Pardee, who was lying flat on hisback, and gazing listlessly up into the clear blue sky;“but what can a fellow do?”
“Nothing at all,” replied Lon Gibbs. “It’s thesame thing from morning to night, from one week’send to the other.”
“Can’t we get up some sort of an excitement?”asked Bark Lingall, whose first name was Barclay.
“We have tried it on too many times,” answeredBen Pardee, who was perhaps the most prudent of thefour. “We never make out any thing. The fellows inthe Tritonia are a lot of spoonies, and are afraid tosay their souls are their own.”
“They are good little boys, lambs of the chaplain’sfold,” sneered Lon Gibbs. “There is nothing like funin them.”
“We are almost at the end of the cruise, at any rate,”said Bark Lingall, who seemed to derive great comfortfrom the fact. “This slavery is almost at an end.”
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p; “I don’t know about that,” added Bill Stout.
“Spain and Portugal are the last countries in Europewe are to visit; and we shall finish them up inthree or four weeks more.”
“And what then? we are not to go home and be discharged,as you seem to think,” continued Bill Stout.“We are to go to the West Indies, taking in a lot ofislands on the way—I forget what they are.”
“I can stand it better when we are at sea,” said BenPardee. “There is more life in it as we are tumblingalong in a big sea. Besides, there will be something tosee in those islands. These cities of Europe are aboutthe same thing; and, when you have seen one, youhave seen the whole of them.”
“I don’t know about that,” suggested Lon Gibbs,who, from the chaplain’s point of view, was the mosthopeful of the four; for his education was better thanthe others, and he had some taste for the wonders ofnature and art. “Spain ought to be worth seeing tofellows from the United States of America. I supposeyou know that Columbus sailed from this country.”
“Is that so?” laughed Bark Lingall. “I thought hewas an Italian; at any rate, we saw the place where hewas born, or else it was a fraud.”
“I think you had better read up your history again,and you will find that Columbus was born in Italy, butsailed in the service of Spain,” replied Lon Gibbs.
“That will do!” interposed Bill Stout, turning uphis nose. “We don’t want any of that sort of thing inour crowd. If you wish to show off your learning,Lon, you had better go and join the lambs.”
“That’s so. It’s treason to talk that kind of bosh inour company. We have too much of it in the steerageto tolerate any of it when we are by ourselves,” saidBen Pardee.
“I thought you were going to do something aboutit,” added Bill Stout. “We are utterly disgusted, andwe agreed that we could not stand it any longer. Weshall go into the next place—I forget the name ofit”—
“Barcelona,” added Lon Gibbs, who was ratherannoyed at the dense ignorance of his friend.
“Barcelona, then. I suppose it is some one–horseseaport, where we are expected to go into ecstasies overtumble–down old buildings, or pretend that we like tolook at a lot of musty pictures. I have had enough ofthis sort of thing, as I said before. I should like tohave a right down good time, such as we had in NewYork when we went round among the theatres and thebeer–shops. That was fun for me. I’m no book–worm,and I don’t pretend to be. I won’t make believe thatI enjoy looking at ruins and pictures when it is a boreto me. I will not be a hypocrite, whatever else I am.”
Bill Stout evidently believed that he had some virtueleft; and, as he delivered himself of his sentiments, helooked like a much abused and wronged young man.
“Here we are; and in six or eight hours we shall bein Barcelona,” continued Ben Pardee.
“And it is no such one–horse place as you seem tothink it is,” added Lon Gibbs. “It is a large city; infact, the second in size in Spain, and with about thesame population as Boston. It is a great commercialplace.”
“You have learned the geography by heart,” sneeredBill Stout, who had a hearty contempt for those whoknew any thing contained in the books, or at least forthose who made any display of their knowledge.
“I like, when I am going to any place, to knowsomething about it,” pleaded Lon, in excuse for hiswisdom in regard to Barcelona.
“Are there any beer–shops there, Lon?” asked Bill.
“I don’t know.”
“Then your education has been neglected.”
“Spain is not a beer–drinking country; and I shouldsay you would find no beer–shops there,” continuedLon. “Spain is a wine country; and I have no doubtyou will find plenty of wine–shops in Barcelona, and inthe other cities of the country.”
“Wine–shops! that will do just as well, and perhapsa little better,” chuckled Bill. “There is no fun wherethere are no wine or beer shops.”
“What’s the use of talking?” demanded Bark Lingall.“What are the wine or the beer shops to do withus? If we entered one of them, we should be deprivedof our liberty, or be put into the brig for twenty–fourhours; and that don’t pay.”
“But I want to break away from this thing altogether,”added Bill Stout. “I have been a slave fromthe first moment I came into the squadron. I neverwas used to being tied up to every hour and minute inthe day. A fellow can’t move without being watched.What they call recreation is as solemn as a prayer–meeting.”
“Well, what do you want to do, Bill?” asked BenPardee, as he glanced at the second master, who hadhalted in his walk in the waist, to overhear, if he could,any word that might be dropped by the party.
“That’s more than I am able to say just at thisminute,” replied Bill, pausing till the officer of thewatch had moved on. “I want to end this dog’s life,and be my own master once more. I want to get outof this vessel, and out of the fleet.”
“Would you like to get into the steamer?” askedLon Gibbs.
“I should like that for a short time; but I don’tthink I should be satisfied in her for more than a weekor two. It was just my luck, when I got out of theYoung America, after she went to the bottom, to havethe American Prince come to take her place, and leaveme out in the cold. No, I don’t want to stay in thesteamer; but I should like to be in her a few days, justto see how things are done. All the fellows have tokeep strained up in her, even more than in the Tritonia;and that is just the thing I don’t like. In fact, it is justthe thing I won’t stand much longer.”
“What are you going to do about it? How are yougoing to help yourself?” inquired Lon Gibbs. “Herewe are, and here we must stay. It is all nonsense tothink of such a thing as running away.”
“I want some sort of an excitement, and I’m goingto have it too, if I am sent home in some ship–of–warin irons.”
“You are getting desperate, Bill,” laughed BenPardee.
“That’s just it, Ben; I am getting desperate. I cannotendure the life I am leading on board of this vessel.It is worse than slavery to me. If you can stand it,you are welcome to do so.”
“We all hate it as bad as you do,” added Bark Lingall,who had the reputation of being the boldest andpluckiest of the bad boys on board of the Tritonia.
“I don’t think you do. If you did, you would be asready as I am to break the chains that bind us.”
“We are ready to do any thing that will end thisdog’s life,” replied Bark. “We will stand by you, ifyou will only tell us what to do.”
“I think you are ready for business, Bark; but I amnot so sure of the others,” he added, glancing into thefaces of Lon Gibbs and Ben Pardee.
“I don’t believe in running away,” said the prudentBen.
“Nor I,” added Lon.
“I knew you were afraid of your own shadows,”sneered Bill.
“We are not afraid of any thing; but so many fellowshave tried to run away, and made fools of themselves,that I am not anxious to try it on. The principalalways gets the best of it. There were the two fellows,De Forrest and Beckwith, who had been cabin officers,that tried it on. Lowington didn’t seem to care whatbecame of them. But in the end they came back onboard, like a couple of sick monkeys, went into thebrig like white lambs, and to this day they have to stayon board when the rest of the crew go ashore, incharge of the big boatswain of the ship.”
“Well, what of it? I had as lief stay on board asmarch in solemn procession with the professors throughthe old churches of the place we are coming to—whatdid you say the name of it was?”
“Barcelona,” answered Lon.
“But that’s not the thing, Bill,” protested Ben. “Itis not so much the brig and the loss of all shore libertyas it is the being whipped out at your own game.”
“That’s the idea,” added Lon. “When those fellowscame on board, though they had been absent for weeks,the principal only laughed at them as he ordered theminto the brig. There was not a fellow in the ship whodid not feel that they had made fools of themselves. Iwould rather stay
in the brig six months than feel asI know those fellows felt at that moment.”
“I don’t think of running away,” continued Bill. “Ihave a bigger idea than that in my mind.”
“What is it?” demanded the others, in the samebreath.
“I won’t tell you now, and not at all till I know thatyou can bear it. Desperate cases require desperateremedies; and I’m not sure that any of you are up toit yet.”
No amount of teasing could induce Bill Stout to exposethe dark secret that was concealed in his mind;and at noon the watch was relieved, so that they hadno other opportunity to talk till the first dog–watch;but the secret came out in due time, and it was nothingless than to burn the Tritonia. Bill believed that hership’s company could not be accommodated on boardof the other vessels, which were all full, and thereforethe students would be sent home. At first Bark Lingallwas horrified at the proposition; but having talked itover for hours with Bill Stout alone, for the conspiratorwould not yet trust the secret with Ben Pardee andLon Gibbs, he came to like the plan, and fully assentedto it. He would not consent to do any thing thatwould expose the life of any person on board. It wasnot till the following day that Bark came to the conclusionto join in the conspiracy. Towards night, as itwas too late to go into port, the order had been signalledfrom the Prince to stand off and on; and thiswas done till the next morning.
The plan was discussed in all its details. It wasbelieved that the vessels would be quarantined at Barcelona,and this would afford the best chance to carryout the wicked plot. One of their number was to concealhimself in the hold; and, when all hands had leftthe vessel, he was to light the fire, and escape the bestway he could. If the fleet was not quarantined, thejob was to be done when the ship’s company landed tosee the city.
At eight bells in the morning, the signal was set onthe Prince to stand in for Barcelona. The conspiratorsfound no opportunity to broach the wicked schemeto Ben and Lon. For the next three hours the starboardwatch were engaged in their duties. As may be supposed,Bill Stout and Bark Lingall, with their heads fullof conspiracy and incendiarism, were in no condition torecite their lessons, even if they had learned them,which they had not done. They were both wofullydeficient, and Bill Stout did not pretend to know thefirst thing about the subject on which he was called uponto recite. The professor was very indignant, and reportedthem to the vice–principal. Mr. Pelham foundthem obstinate as well as deficient; and he ordered themto be committed to the brig, and their books to be committedwith them. They were to stand their watcheson deck, and spend all the rest of the time in the cage,till they were ready to recite the lessons in which theyhad failed. The “brig” was the ship’s prison.
Mr. Marline, the adult boatswain, took charge ofthem, and locked them up. The position of the brighad been recently changed, and it was now under theladder leading from the deck to the steerage. Thepartitions were hard wood slats, two inches thick andthree inches apart. Two stools were the only furnitureit contained, though a berth–sack was supplied for eachoccupant at night. Their food, which was always muchplainer than that furnished for the cabin and steeragetables, was passed in to them through an aperture in oneside, beneath which was a shelf that served for a table.
Bark looked at Bill, and Bill looked at Bark, whenthe door had been secured, and the boatswain had leftthem to their own reflections. Neither of them seemedto be appalled by the situation. They sat down uponthe stools facing each other. Bark smiled upon Bill,and Bill smiled in return. This was not the first timethey had been occupants of the brig.
“Here we are,” said Bill Stout, in a low tone, afterhe had made a hasty survey of the prison. “I thinkthis is better than the old brig, and I believe we can behappy here for a few days.”
“What will become of our big plan now, Bill?”asked Bark.
“Hush!” added Bill in his hoarsest whisper, as helooked through the slats of the prison to see if any onewas observing them.
“What’s the matter now?” demanded Bark, ratherstartled by the impressive manner of his companion.
“Not a word,” replied Bill, as he pointed and gesticulatedin the direction of the flooring under the ladder.
“Well, what is it?” demanded Bark.
“Don’t you see?” and again he pointed as before.
“I don’t see any thing.”
“Then you are blind! Don’t you see that the newbrig has been built over one of the scuttles that leaddown into the hold?”
“I see it now. I didn’t know what you meant whenyou pointed so like Hamlet’s ghost.”
“Don’t say a word, or look at it,” whispered Bill, ashe placed his stool over the trap, and looked out intothe steerage.
The vice–principal passed the brig at this moment,and nothing more was said.