CHAPTER VII.
FIRE AND WATER.
“What’s going on, Bark?” asked Bill Stout,as all hands were called to go on shore; andperhaps this was the hundredth time this question hadbeen put by one or the other of the occupants of thebrig since the ship’s company turned out that morning.
“All hands are going on shore,” replied Bark Lingall.“I hope they will have a good time; and I amthankful that I am not one of them, to be tied to thecoat–tail of Professor Primback.”
The marines knew all about the events that hadtranspired on board of the vessel since she anchored,including the strange disappearance of Raimundo.Ben Pardee had contrived to tell them all they wantedto know, while most of the students were on deck.But he and Lon Gibbs had not been informed of theconspiracy to burn the Tritonia. Bark had simplytold them that “something was up,” and they must dosome mischief to get committed to the brig before theycould take a hand in the game. Lon and Ben hadtalked the matter over between themselves, and wereready to do as required till the orders came for theJosephines and the Tritonias to proceed to Lisbon inthe Prince. The voyage in the steamer had too manyattractions to permit them to lose it. They had donebetter in their lessons than Bill and Bark, who hadpurposely neglected theirs.
“I should not object to the voyage in the Prince,”said Bark.
“Nor I, if I had known about it; but it is too latenow to back out. We are in for it,—in the brig.We shall have a better chance to get off when all theprofessors are away,” added Bill.
“There don’t appear to be any one taking care ofus just now,” said Bark, after he had looked throughthe bars of the prison, and satisfied himself that noone but themselves was in the steerage. “Marlinehad to go on shore with the crowd to take care of theboats; and so had the carpenter.”
“Some one has the care of us, I know,” repliedBill. “But I can soon find out.”
Bill Stout began to pound on the slats of the cage;and the noise soon brought the chief steward to thebrig.
“What are you about in there?” demanded Mr.Salter.
“I want to see Mr. Marline or Mr. Rimmer,” repliedBill, meekly enough.
“They are both gone on shore to take charge of theboats, and won’t be back till night,” added Salter.“What do you want?”
“I want a drink of water: I am almost choked,”answered Bill.
“You don’t want Mr. Rimmer for that,” said Salter,as he left the brig.
In a moment he returned with a pitcher of water,which he handed into the cage through the slide.Having done this, he returned to the cabin to resumehis work.
“I’ll bet he is alone on board!” exclaimed Bill, assoon as Salter had gone.
“I think not,” replied Bark.
“Why did he bring the water himself, then?”
“I don’t know; perhaps the stewards are all ondeck.”
“No: he always lets most of his men go on shorewhen we are in port. I don’t believe there is morethan one of them on board,” continued Bill, with nolittle excitement in his manner.
“I heard some one walking on deck since the boatswent off. It may have been Salter; but I am sure heis not alone on board.”
“No matter, if there are only two or three left.Now is our time, Bark!” whispered Bill Stout.
“We may be burnt up in the vessel: we are lockedinto the brig,” suggested Bark.
“No danger of that. When the fire breaks out,Salter will unlock the door of the cage. If he don’t wecan break it down.”
“What then?” queried Bark. “Every boat belongingto the vessel is gone, and we might get singed inthe scrape.”
“Nonsense, Bark! At the worst we could swimashore to that old light–house.”
“Well, what are we going to do then? We wear theuniform of the fleet, and we shall be known whereverwe go,” added the more prudent Bark.
“You have money enough, and so have I. All wehave to do is to buy a suit of clothes apiece, and thenwe shall be all right.”
They discussed the matter for half an hour longer.Bark was willing to admit that the time for putting thevillanous scheme in operation was more favorable thanany that was likely to be afforded them in the future.Though the professors were all on shore, they believedthey could easily keep out of their way in a city solarge as Barcelona.
“Suppose Salter should come into the steerage whenyou are down in the hold?” suggested Bark.
“That would be bad,” replied Bill, shaking his head.“But we must take some risk. We will wait till hecomes in to take a look at us, and then I will do the job.He won’t come in again for half an hour; for I supposehe is busy in the cabin, as he always is while we are inport.”
They had to wait half an hour more before the chiefsteward came into the steerage. Though he intended tobe a faithful officer, Mr. Salter was wholly absorbed inhis accounts, and he did not like to leave them even fora moment. He went into the steerage far enough to seethat both of the prisoners were safe in the cage, andhastened back to his desk.
“We are all right now,” whispered Bill, as he bentdown to the scuttle that led into the hold.
“If you make any noise at all the chief steward willhear you,” replied Bark, hardly less excited than hiscompanion in villany.
Bill raised the trap–door with the utmost care. Ashe made no noise, Mr. Salter heard none. Bill had hismatches all ready, with the paper he had prepared forthe purpose. He had taken off his shoes, so as tomake no noise on the steps. He was not absent fromthe brig more than two minutes, and Salter was stillabsorbed in his accounts. Bark carefully adjusted thescuttle when Bill came up; and he could smell theburning straw as he did so.
Bill put on his shoes with all the haste he could,without making any noise; and both the conspiratorstried to look as though nothing had happened, or wasabout to happen. They were intensely excited, ofcourse, for they expected the flames would burst upthrough the cabin floor in a few moments. Barklooked over the slats of the cage to find where theweakest of them were, so as to be ready, in case itshould be necessary, to break out.
“Do you smell the fire?” asked Bill, when his anxietyhad become so great that he could no longer keepstill.
“I did smell it when the scuttle was off; but I don’tsmell it now,” replied Bark.
“What was that noise?” asked Bill.
Both of them had heard it, and it seemed to be inthe hold. They could not tell what it was like, onlythat it was a noise.
“What could it be?” mused Bill. “It was in thehold, and not far from the foot of the ladder.”
“Perhaps it was the noise of the fire,” suggestedBark. “It may have burned away so that one of theboxes tumbled down.”
“That must have been it,” replied Bill, satisfied withthis plausible explanation. “But why don’t the firebreak out? It is time for it to show itself, for fire travelsfast.”
“I suppose it has not got a–going yet. Very likelythe straw and stuff is damp, and does not burn veryfreely.”
“It will be a sure thing this time, for I saw the blazerising when I came up the ladder,” added Bill.
“And I saw it myself also.”
“But it ought to be a little hot by this time,” repliedBill, who began to have a suspicion that every thing wasnot working according to the programme.
“You know best how you fixed things down below.The fire may have burned the straw all up without lightingthe ceiling of the vessel.”
At least ten minutes had elapsed since the matchhad been applied to the combustibles, and it was certainlytime that the fire should begin to appear in thesteerage. But there was no fire, and not even thesmell of fire, to be perceived. The conspirators wereastonished at the non–appearance of the blaze; andafter waiting ten minutes more they were satisfied thatthe fire was not making any progress.
“It is a failure again,” said Bark Lingall. “Therewill be no conflagration to–day.”
“Yes, there will, if I have to set it a dozen times,”replied Bill Stout, setting h
is teeth firmly together. “Idon’t understand it. I certainly saw the blaze before Ileft the hold; and I couldn’t have done the job anybetter if I had tried for a week.”
“You did it all right, without a doubt; but a fire willnot always burn after you touch it off,” answered Bark,willing to console his companion in his failure.
“I will go down again, and see what the matter is, atany rate. If I can’t get up a blaze in the hold, I willsee what I can do in one of the mess–rooms,” addedBill stoutly.
“How can you get into one of the mess–rooms?”asked Bark. “You forget that we are locked into thebrig.”
“No, I don’t forget it; but you seem to forget thatwe can go down into the hold, and go up by the forwardscuttle into the steerage.”
“You are right, Bill. I did not think of that,” saidBark. “And you can also go aft, and up by the afterscuttle into the cabin. I remember now that there arethree ways to get into the hold.”
“I haven’t forgot it for a moment,” added Bill, withsomething like triumph in his tones. “I am goingdown once more to see why the blaze didn’t do as itwas expected to do.”
“Not yet, Bill. Wait till Salter has been into thesteerage again.”
“It isn’t twenty minutes since he was here; and hewill not come again for half an hour at least.”
Bill Stout felt that he had done enough, and hadproved that he knew enough, to entitle him to have hisown way. Raising the scuttle, he descended into thehold. He did not dare to remain long, lest the chiefsteward should come into the steerage, and discoverthat he was not in the brig. But he remained longenough to ascertain the reason why the fire did notburn; and, filled with amazement, he returned to communicatethe discovery he had made to his fellow–conspirator.When he had closed the trap, and turnedaround to confront Bark, his face was the very pictureof astonishment and dismay.
“Well, what’s the matter, Bill?” asked Bark, whocould not help seeing the strange expression on thecountenance of his shipmate.
“Matter enough! I should say that the Evil One wasfighting against us, Bark,” replied his companion.
“I should say that the Evil One is fighting on theother side, if on either,” added Bark. “But what haveyou found?”
“The fire is out, and the straw and other stuff feelsjust as though a bucket of water had been thrownupon it. At any rate, it is wet,” answered Bill.
“Nonsense! no water could have been thrown uponit.”
“How does it happen to be wet, then?”
“The hold of a vessel is apt to be a damp place.”
“Damp! I tell you it was wet!” protested Bill; andthe mysterious circumstance seemed to awe and alarmhim.
“Certainly no water could have been thrown uponthe fire,” persisted Bark.
“How happens it to be wet, then? That’s what Iwant to know.”
“Do you think any water was thrown on the straw?”
“I don’t see how it could have been; but I know itwas wet,” replied Bill.
“Very likely the dry stuff burned off, and the wetstraw would not take fire,” suggested Bark, who wasgood for accounting for strange things.
“That may be; I did not think of that,” mused Bill.“But there is a pile of old dunnage on the starboardside, and some more straw and old boxes and thingsthere; and I will try it on once more. I have gotstarted, and I’m going to do the job if I hang for it.”
“Wait till Salter has been in again before you gobelow,” said Bark.
Bill was content to wait. To his desire for freedom,was added the feeling of revenge for being committedto the brig when all hands were about to make avoyage in the Prince. He was determined to destroythe Tritonia,—more determined than when he first attemptedthe crime. In a short time the chief stewardmade another visit to the steerage, and again returnedto the cabin.
“Now is my time,” said Bill, when he was satisfiedthat Salter had reached the cabin.
“Be careful this time,” added Bark, as he raised thescuttle.
“I shall be careful, but I shall make a sure thing ofit,” replied Bill, stepping upon the narrow ladder, anddescending.
Bill Stout was absent full five minutes this time; and,when he returned to the brig, he had not lighted thetrain that was to complete the destruction of the Tritonia.
“I had no paper, and I could not make a blaze,”said he. “Have you a newspaper about you, Bill?”
“No, I have not: I do not carry papers around withme.”
“What shall I do? I can’t light the rubbish withoutsomething that is entirely dry.”
“Here,” answered Bark, picking up one of the neglectedtext–books on the floor. “You can get as muchpaper as you want out of this book.”
“But that won’t do,” replied Bill. “I thought youwere a very prudent fellow.”
“So I am.”
“If I should miss fire again, and this book or anypart of it should be found in the pile, it would blow thewhole thing upon us.”
“Tear out a lot of the leaves; and they will be sureto be burnt, if you light them with the match.”
As no other paper could be obtained, Bill consentedto tear out some of the leaves of the book, and usethem for his incendiary purpose. Bark declared thatwhat was left of it would soon be in ashes, and therewas nothing to fear as to its being a telltale againstthem. Once more Bill descended into the hold; and,as he had made every thing ready during his last visit,he was absent only long enough to light the paper, andthrust it into the pile of combustibles he had gathered.He had placed several small sticks of pine, which hadbeen split to kindle the fire in the galley, on the heapof rubbish, in order to give more body to the fire whenit was lighted. He paused an instant to see the flamerise from the pile, and then fled up the ladder.
“Hurry up!” whispered Bark at the scuttle. “Ihear Salter moving about in the cabin.”
But the trap–door was returned to its place beforethe chief steward appeared; and he only looked intothe steerage.
“The job is done this time, you may bet your life!”exclaimed Bill, as he seated himself on his stool, andtried to look calm and self–possessed.
“I saw the blaze,” added Bark. “Let’s look down,and see if it is going good.”
“No, no!” protested Bill earnestly. “We don’twant to run a risk for nothing.”
Both of the young villains waited with throbbinghearts for the bursting out of the flames, which theythought would run up the ceiling of the vessel, andcommunicate the fire to the berths on the starboardside of the steerage. Five minutes—ten minutes—aquarter of an hour, they waited for the catastrophe;but no smoke, no flame, appeared. Bill Stout could notunderstand it again. Another quarter of an hour theywaited, but less confidently than before.
“No fire yet, Bill,” said Bark, with a smile.
“I don’t know what it means,” replied the puzzledincendiary. “You saw the fire, and so did I; and Ican’t see why the blaze don’t come up through thedeck.”
“It is very odd, Bill; and I can’t see through it anybetter than you can,” added Bark. “It don’t look asthough we were to have a burn to–day.”
“We are bound to have it!” insisted Bill Stout. “Ishall try next time in one of the mess–rooms.”
“With all the pains and precautions to prevent fireon board, it seems that the jolly craft won’t burn. Nofellow has been allowed to have a match, or even totake a lantern into the hold; and now you can’t makethe vessel burn when you try with all your might.”
“The Evil One is working against us,” continued Bill,who could make no other explanation of the repeatedfailures.
“If he is, he is on the wrong side; for we have donenothing to make him desert us,” laughed Bark. “Wecertainly deserve better of him.”
“I am going below to see what was the matter thistime,” added Bill, as he raised the trap–door.
Bark offered no opposition to his purpose, and Billwent down the ladder. He was not gone more than acouple of minutes this time;
and when he returned helooked as though he had just come out of the abode ofthe party who was working against him. He seemedto be transfixed with wonder and surprise; and for amoment he stood in silence in the presence of his fellow–conspirator.
“What’s the matter with you, Bill? You look like astuck pig that has come back to haunt the butcher,”said Bark, trying to rally his associate. “Did you seeany spirits in the hold? This is a temperance ship,and the principal don’t allow any on board.”
“You may laugh, Bark, if you like; but I believethe evil spirit is in the hold,” replied Bill impressively.
“What makes you think so, Bill?”
“The pile of rubbish is as wet as water can make it.Do you suppose there is any one in the hold?”
“Who could be there?” demanded Bark.
“I don’t know; but it seems to me some one is downthere, who puts water on the fire every time I light it.I can’t explain it in any other way.”
“Nonsense! No one could by any possibility be inthe hold. If any one of the stewards had gone down,we should have seen him.”
After more discussion neither of the conspiratorswas willing to believe there was any person in the hold.It was not a place a man would be likely to stay in anylonger than he was compelled to do so. It was partiallyventilated by a couple of small shafts, and verydimly lighted by four small panes of heavy glass set inthe cabin and steerage floors, under the skylights. Itwas not more than four feet high where the greatestelevation was had; that is, between the dunnage thatcovered the ballast, and the timbers on which the floorsof the between–decks rested. It was not a desirableplace for any one to remain in, though there was nothingin it that was destructive to human life. It wassimply a very dingy and uncomfortable retreat for ahuman being.
“I am going to try it on just once more,” said BillStout, after his suspicions of a supernatural interferencehad subsided. “I know there was water thrown on thepile of rubbish. It seems to me the Evil One must haveused a fire–engine on the heap, after I had lighted thefire. But I am going to know about it this time, if Iam condemned to the brig for the rest of my naturallife. There is quite a pile of old boxes and cases splitup in the hold, ready for use in the galley. I am goingto touch off this heap of wood, and stand by till I seeit well a–going. I want you to shut the door when I godown next time; for Salter will not come in for half anhour or more. I am going to see what puts the fireout every time I light it.”
“But suppose Salter comes into the steerage, andfinds you are not here: what shall I say to him?”
“Tell him I am in the hold,—any thing you please.I don’t care what becomes of me now.”
Bill Stout raised the trap–door, and descended; and,in accordance with the instructions of that worthy,Bark closed it as soon as his head disappeared belowthe steerage floor. Bill lighted up the pile of kindling–wood;and then, with a quantity of leaves he had tornfrom the book, he set fire to the heap of combustibles.The blaze rose from the pile, and promised that theresult that the conspirators had been laboring to producewould be achieved. True to the plan he hadarranged, Bill waited, and watched the blaze he hadkindled; but the fire had scarcely lighted up thegloomy hold, before a bucket of water was dashed onthe pile of wood, and the flames were completely extinguished.There was somebody in the hold, after all; andBill was almost paralyzed when he realized the fact.
The fire was put out; and the solitary fireman of thehold moved aft. Bill watched him, and was unable todetermine whether he was a human being, or a spiritfrom the other world. But he was desperate to a degreehe had never been before. He stooped downover the extinguished combustibles to ascertain whetherthey were really wet, or whether some magic hadquenched the flame which a minute before had promisedto make an end of the Tritonia. The water stillhung in drops on the kindling–wood. He stirred upthe wood, and lighted another match, which he appliedto the dryest sticks he could find.
“What are you about, you villain? Do you meanto burn the vessel?” demanded a voice near him, theowner of which instantly stamped out the fire with hisfeet.
The mystery was solved; for Bill recognized thevoice of Raimundo, whose mysterious disappearancehad excited so much astonishment on board of thevessel.