THE ENGINEER GOES INTO THE FORECASTLE
The wind from the southward seemed to be increasing in force, though it
was not yet what old salts would call any thing more than half a gale,
and hardly that; but the long-boat from the Leopard made bad weather of
it, and rolled wildly in the trough of the sea. The soldiers pulled
badly, for they had had no training in the use of the oars, and very
little experience.
The boat had made very little progress towards the Bellevite, and
Christy was in no hurry to put his plan in operation. He showed his
revolver to Percy, and then restored it to his hip-pocket. But he
watched the expression of his companion in the pilot-house very closely;
for, as the case then stood, one of them belonged to the blue, while the
other was of the gray. But Percy's patriotism was hardly skin deep, and
he had already spoken freely enough to make himself understood.
"I don't see how you are going to start the tug with that pistol if the
fellow at the engine don't look at it in that light," said Percy, as his
companion restored the weapon to his pocket.
"I don't intend to use it if it can be avoided," replied Christy.
"I shall not ask Spikeley to start the engine, and if he don't interfere
with me, I shall not harm him; for he seems to be a cripple, and it
would hurt my feelings to have to lay hands on him, or even to point a
revolver at his head."
"If Spikeley don't start the engine, I reckon it will not start itself,"
suggested Percy.
"I don't believe it will."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"I am going to start it myself."
"Start it yourself! You will blow the whole thing up!" exclaimed Percy,
who did not see how the same young fellow of sixteen could know how to
steer, and run the engine.
"I have been on board the Bellevite a great deal of the time for the
last three years, and my mother says I was born a sailor, as my father
was before me. I always took a deep interest in every thing connected
with the steamer."
"I should think you might, on board of such a fine vessel as the
Bellevite."
"I have stood my trick at the wheel for weeks together; and the
quartermasters taught me all they knew about steering, the compass,
the log, the lead, and the signals."
"Those things have nothing to do with the engine," suggested Percy.
"That is very true; but, when I had learned enough in the pilot-house,
I went down into the engine and fire rooms. Mr. Vapoor, the chief
engineer, and I were in the same school together; and, though he is six
years older than I am, we have been cronies for four years."
"And he told you about the engine?"
"I made a regular study of the engine, in connection with physics, and
Paul"--
"Paul? That's another fellow?"
"No: it's the same fellow,--Paul Vapoor. Everybody that knows him says
he is a genius. He was my teacher. But he told me that all the theory in
the world would not make me an engineer: I must have the experience; and
for weeks together I took the place of one of the assistant engineers.
That's how I happen to know something about an engine; and I have been
on board of all sorts of steamers with Paul, for the purpose of studying
the engines, from a launch up to the biggest ocean-steamers."
"Did you take any lessons of the cook on board of the Bellevite,
Christy?" asked Percy, laughing.
"I used to ask questions of him; but I have served as cook on board of a
small yacht, and I know how to get up a chowder or bake a pot of beans."
"All right; then I will take it for granted that you can start the
engine of the Leopard," continued Percy, coming back to the topic which
interested him most. "What are you going to do after you have started
the engine?"
"I am going to get on board of the Bellevite, and get you on board of
her."
"That will suit me first rate," replied Percy. "But I don't want you to
think I am a Yankee, for I am not."
"But I want you to think I am a Yankee, as you call it; and I am one,"
added Christy.
"After we get on board of the Bellevite, what do you suppose she will
do?"
"That is more than I can tell you; but I have no doubt my father will
try to get out of the bay, and then he will go to New York. It is about
time to make a beginning, for the boat will not trouble us now," replied
Christy, as he took a look all around the tug.
"What am I to do?"
"I haven't told you all I know about steering the boat for nothing,
Percy, and you will remain at the wheel. But I wonder what that is over
in the north-west," added Christy, as he took the glass from the shelf,
and pointed it out the after window of the pilot-house.
"I think I can steer her all right now. What do you see over there?"
"I believe there is a steamer coming down from that direction," replied
Christy anxiously, as he brought the glass to bear on the object in
sight.
"A steamer!" exclaimed Percy. "That will mix things with us."
"Perhaps it will. It is a steamer, but it looks like a river boat, at
any rate, it is not a tug. She is headed this way."
Christy was a good deal disturbed by the discovery he made; and giving
no further attention to his companion, he continued to study the
approaching craft, at the same time endeavoring to account for her
appearance. His uncle Homer had gone to find some one who was to render
assistance in preventing the Bellevite from leaving the bay, and
becoming a part of the navy of the Union.
He had not succeeded in finding the person he sought, but he had had
abundance of time to go to Mobile; and Christy feared that this steamer
coming down from the north-west might be intended for the capture of the
Bellevite, in which case she must be armed and provided with an ample
force for the purpose.
"That is not a tug-boat: she is a river or a bay steamer, and I am
afraid she is faster than this thing," said Christy, when he had
obtained all the information he could at the present time. "At any rate,
we have no time to spare. Do you think you can steer the Leopard,
Percy?"
"I know I can," replied he confidently.
"The boat with the major in it is losing a good deal by lee-way, for he
seems to be making no allowance for it."
"What does that mean?" asked Percy, puzzled by the statement.
"She has the wind on her beam, and she drifts to the north almost as
much as she goes ahead. He ought to head her for some point to the
southward of the Bellevite; but the more mistakes he makes, the better
it will be for us."
"I see that he don't seem to be headed anywhere in particular."
"Now, Percy, I am going below to have it out with Spikeley," continued
Christy, taking the revolver from his pocket, while he drew a box of
cartridges from another. "The Bellevite drifts as well as the boat; but
they don't let her go far to the north where the shoal water is, and
they turn the screw enough to keep her pretty nearly in the same
position."
"I am to steer for her, of course," added Percy.
"No: there is something that looks like buildings on the shore, at least
five miles beyond the steamer. Do you see them?"
"I do."
"Run for them; and this course will carry you a considerable distance to
the southward of the boat. I shall be near you all the time; and if you
get bothered, sing out for me, and I will help you out."
"Don't you think I had better go below with you, so as to make a sure
thing with the engineer?"
"I can handle him alone; or, if I find that I cannot, I will call for
you. Now, look out very closely for your steering, and don't let her
wobble any more than you can help."
Christy left the pilot-house, after he had put six cartridges into his
revolver, and restored the weapon to his pocket. He had already made up
his mind as to the manner in which he proposed to dispose of the
engineer. He descended the ladder to the forecastle of the tug; but
before he proceeded to the important task before him, he made a careful
survey of the accommodations of the steamer, though she did not appear
to be different from a score of similar vessels he had visited in making
his studies.
Under the pilot-house was the galley, which was also the mess-room of
the crew when she had any. Forward of this, and under the forward deck,
was the forecastle, to which the inquirer descended. It was fitted up
with bunks, and there was only one entrance to it, by a ladder from a
scuttle in the deck.
The scuttle was the interesting point with him; and he saw that it was
provided with a hasp and staple, so that the entrance could be secured
by a padlock, though that was missing. Getting a piece of wood from the
deck, he made a toggle that would fit the staple, and put the scuttle
in a convenient place. Leaving the forward deck, he went aft, taking
another look at the steamer in the north-west; but he could hardly see
her with the naked eye, and he thought she must be at least five miles
off.
"Where is your bunk, Mr. Spikeley?" asked Christy, as he went to the
door of the engine-room.
"What's that to you, youngster?" demanded the engineer; and possibly it
did not comport with his dignity to be bossed by a boy.
"It is rather important for me to know just now," replied Christy,
looking as savage as it was possible for a good-natured boy to look.
"What do you want to know for?" asked Spikeley.
"I happen to be in command of this tug for the present moment, and I
want an answer without stopping all day to talk about it."
"Well, youngster, I don't reckon I'll tell you any thing about it. I get
my orders from Major Pierson," replied the engineer sourly.
"The Leopard is in my charge, and I must ask you to show me where your
bunk is; and after you have done that, I shall ask you to get into it,
and stay there," said Christy, with decision enough for the needs of the
occasion.
At the same time he took the revolver from his pocket, and pointed it
towards the head of the engineer.
"You can take your choice, Mr. Spikeley: you can get into your bunk, or
have your carcass thrown into the bay; and you haven't got a great while
to think of it."
The engineer seemed to be properly impressed by the sight of the weapon,
and he could see that the chambers contained cartridges. He rose from
his seat, and moved towards the door of the engine-room.
"I heard some of the men say you was a Yank, and I reckon you be," said
Spikeley. "What are you go'n to do?"
"I am going to get you into your bunk, where you will be more
comfortable than you are here. Move on!"
The man obeyed; for he was unarmed, and he did not like the looks of the
revolver. Without another word, he moved forward, and descended to the
forecastle. As soon as he was below the deck, Christy closed the
scuttle, and secured it with the toggle.