AT THE QUARANTINE STATION.
While these events were transpiring below, the
signal had come from the Prince to shorten
sail on the schooners, for the squadron was within half
a mile of the long mole extending to the southward of
the tongue of land that forms the easterly side of the
harbor of Barcelona. A signal for a pilot was exhibited
on each vessel of the fleet, but no pilot boat
seemed to be in sight. As the bar could not be far
distant, it was not deemed prudent to advance any farther;
and the steamer had stopped her engine.
“Signal on the steamer to heave to, Mr. Greenwood,”
said Rolk, the fourth master, as he touched his cap to
the first lieutenant, who was the officer of the deck.
“I see it,” replied Greenwood. “Haul down the
jib, and back the fore–topsail!”
The necessary orders were given in detail, and in a
few moments the three vessels of the fleet were lying
almost motionless on the sea. Greenwood took a glass
from the beckets at the companion–way, and proceeded
to a make a survey of the situation ahead. But there
was nothing to be seen except the mole, and the high
fortified hill of Monjuich on the mainland, across the
harbor.
“Where are your pilots, Raimundo?” asked Scott
of the second master; and both of them were off duty
at this time.
“You won’t see any pilots yet awhile,” replied the
young Spaniard.
“Are they all asleep?”
“Do you think they will be weak enough to come on
board before the health officers have given their permission
for the vessels to enter the harbor?” added
Raimundo. “If they did so they would be sent into
quarantine themselves.”
“They are prudent, as they ought to be,” added
Scott. “I suppose you begin to feel at home about
this time; don’t you, Don Raimundo?”
“Not half so much at home as I do when I am farther
away from Spain,” replied the second master, with
a smile that seemed to be of a very doubtful character.
“Why, how is that?” asked Scott. “This is Spain,
the home of your parents, and the land that gave you
birth.”
“That’s true; but, for all that, I would rather go anywhere
than into Spain. In fact, I don’t think I shall
go on shore at all,” added Raimundo, and there was a
very sad look on his handsome face.
“Why, what’s the matter, my Don?”
“I thought very seriously of asking Mr. Lowington
to grant me leave of absence till the squadron reaches
Lisbon,” replied the second master. “I should have
done so if it had not been for losing my rank, and
taking the lowest place in the Tritonia.”
“I don’t understand you,” answered Scott, puzzled
by the sudden change that had come over his friend;
for, being in the same quarter watch, they had become
very intimate and very much attached to each other.
“Of course you do not understand it; but when I
have the chance I will tell you all about it, for I may
want you to help me before we get out of the waters of
Spain. But I wish you to know, above all things, that
I never did any thing wrong in Spain, whatever I may
have done in New York.”
“Of course not, for I think you said you left your
native land when you were only ten years old.”
“That’s so. I was born in this very city of Barcelona;
and I suppose I have an uncle there now;
but I would not meet him for all the money in Spain,”
said Raimundo, looking very sad, and even terrified.
“But we will not say any thing more about it now.
When I have a chance, I will tell you the whole story.
I am certain of one thing, and that is, I shall not go on
shore in Barcelona if I can help it. There is a boat
coming out from behind the mole.”
“An eight–oar barge; and the men in her pull as
though she were part of a funeral procession,” said
the first lieutenant, examining the boat with the glass.
“She has a yellow flag in her stern.”
“Then it is the health officers,” added Raimundo.
All hands in the squadron watched the approaching
boat; for by this time the quarantine question had excited
no little interest, and it was now to be decided.
The oarsmen pulled the man–of–war stroke; but the
pause after they recovered their blades was so fearfully
long that the rowers seemed to be lying on their oars
about half of the time. Certainly the progress of the
barge was very slow, and it was a long time before it
reached the American Prince. Then it was careful not
to come too near, lest any pestilence that might be
lurking in the ship should be communicated to the
funereal oarsmen or their officers. The boat took up
its position abreast of the steamer’s gangway, and
about thirty feet distant from her.
A well–dressed gentleman then stood up in the stern–sheets
of the barge, and hailed the ship. Mr. Lowington,
in full uniform, which he seldom wore, replied to
the hail in Spanish; and a long conference ensued.
When the principal said that the squadron came from
Genoa, the health officer shook his head. Then he
wanted to know all about the three vessels, and it
appeared to be very difficult for him to comprehend the
character of the school. At last he was satisfied on all
these points, and understood that the academy was
a private enterprise, and not an institution connected
with the United States Navy.
“Have you any sickness on board?” asked the health
officer, when the nature of the craft was satisfactorily
explained.
“We have two cases of measles in the steamer, but
all are well in the other vessels,” replied Mr. Lowington.
“_Sarampion!_” exclaimed the Spanish officer, using
the Spanish word for the measles.
At the same time he shrugged his shoulders like
a Frenchman, and vented his incredulity in a laugh.
“_Viruelas!_” added the officer; and the word in
English meant smallpox, which was just the disease the
Spaniards feared as coming from Genoa.
Mr. Lowington then called Dr. Winstock, the surgeon,
who spoke Spanish fluently, and presented him to the
incredulous health officer. A lengthy palaver between
the two medical men ensued. There appeared to be
some sort of freemasonry, or at least a professional
sympathy, between them, for they seemed to get on very
well together. The cases of measles were very light
ones, the two students having probably contracted the
disease in some interior town of Italy where they passed
the night at a hotel. They had been kept apart from the
other students, and no others had taken the malady.
The health officer declared that he was satisfied for
the present with the explanation of the surgeon, and
politely asked to see the ship’s papers, which the principal
held in his hand. The barge pulled up a little
nearer to the steamer; a long pole with a pair of spring
tongs affixed to the end of it was elevated to the gangway,
between the jaws of which Mr. Lowington placed
the documents. They were carefully examined, and
then all hands were required to show themselves in the
rigging. This order included every person on board,
not excepting the cooks, waiters, and coal–heavers. In
a few moments they were standing on the rail or perched
in the rigging, and the health officer and his assistants
proceeded to count them. The number was two short
of that indicated in the ship’s papers, for those who
were sick with the measles were not allowed to leave
their room.
The health officer then intimated that he would pay
the vessel a visit; and all hands were ordered to muster
at their stations where they could be most conveniently
inspected. Every part of the vessel was then carefully
examined, and the Spanish doctors minutely overhauled
the two cases of measles. They declared themselves
fully satisfied that there was neither yellow fever nor
smallpox on board of the steamer. The other vessels
of the squadron were subjected to the same inspection.
Mr. Lowington and Dr. Winstock attended the health
officer in his visit to the Josephine and the Tritonia.
“You find our vessels in excellent health,” said Dr.
Winstock, when the examination was completed.
“Very good; but we cannot get over the fact that
you come from Genoa, where the smallpox is prevailing
badly. Vessels from that port are quarantined at Marseilles
for from three days to a fortnight; but I shall
not be hard with you, as you have a skilful surgeon on
board,” replied the health officer, touching his hat to
Dr. Winstock; “but my orders from the authorities are
imperative that all vessels from infected or doubtful
ports shall be fumigated before any person from them
is allowed to land in the city. We have had the yellow
fever so severely all summer that we are very cautious.”
“Is it necessary to fumigate?” asked Dr. Winstock,
with a smile.
“The authorities require it, and I am not at liberty
to dispense with it,” answered the official. “But it will
detain you only a few hours. You will land the ship’s
company of each vessel, and they will be fumigated on
shore. While they are absent our people will purify
the vessels.”
“Is there any yellow fever in the city now?” asked
the surgeon of the fleet.
“None at all. The frost has entirely killed it; but
we have many patients who are recovering from the
disease. The people who went away have all returned,
and we call the city healthy.”
The quarantine grounds were pointed out to the
principal; and the fleet was soon at anchor within a
cable’s length of the shore. Study and recitation were
suspended for the rest of the day. All the boats of
the American Prince were manned; her fires were
banked; the entire ship’s company were transferred to
the shore; and the vessel was given up to the quarantine
officers, who boarded her and proceeded with their
work. In a couple of hours the steamer and her crew
were disposed of; and then came the turn of the
Josephine, for only one vessel could be treated at a
time.
When all hands were mustered on board of the
Tritonia, the two delinquents in the brig were let out
to undergo the inspection with the others. The decision
of the health officer requiring the vessels to be
fumigated, and the fact that the process would require
but a few hours, were passed through each of the
schooners as well as the steamer, and in a short time
were known to every student in the fleet. As usual they
were disposed to make fun of the situation, though it
was quite a sensation for the time. During the excitement
Bark Lingall improved the opportunity to confer
with Lon Gibbs and Ben Pardee. Lon was willing to
undertake any thing that Bark suggested. Ben was
rather a prudent fellow, but soon consented to take part
in the enterprise. Certainly neither of these worthies
would have assented if the proposition to join had been
made by Bill Stout, in whom they had as little confidence
as Bark had manifested. The alliance had
hardly been agreed upon before the vice–principal happened
to see the four marines talking together, and
ordered Marline to recommit two of them to the brig.
The boatswain locked them into their prison, and left
them to their own reflections. The excitement on deck
was still unabated, and the cabins and steerage were
deserted even by the stewards.
“I think our time has come,” said Bill Stout, after
he had satisfied himself that no one but the occupants
of the brig was in the steerage. “If we don’t strike
at once we shall lose our chance, for they say we are
going up to the city to–night.”
“They will have to let us out to be fumigated with
the rest of the crew,” answered Bark Lingall. “We
haven’t drawn lots yet, either.”
“Never mind the lot now: I will do the job myself,”
replied Bill magnanimously. “I should rather like the
fun of it.”
“All right, though I am willing to take my chances.
I won’t back out of any thing.”
“You are true blue, Bark, when you get started; but
I would rather do the thing than not.”
“Very well, I am willing; and when the scratch
comes I will back you up. But I do not see how you
are going to manage it, Bill,” added Bark, looking about
him in the brig.
“The vice has made an easy thing of it for us.
While the fellows were all on deck, I went to my berth
and got a little box of matches I bought in Genoa
when we were there. I have it in my pocket now.
All I have to do is to take off this scuttle, and go down
into the hold. As we don’t know how soon the fellows
will be sent ashore, I think I had better be about it
now.”
Bill Stout put his fingers into the ring on the trap–door,
and lifted it a little way.
“Hold on, Bill,” interposed Bark. “You are altogether
too fast. When Marline comes down to let us
out, where shall I say you are?”
“That’s so: I didn’t think of that,” added Bill, looking
rather foolish. “He will see the scuttle, and know
just where I am.”
“And, when the blaze comes off, he will see just who
started it,” continued Bark. “That won’t do anyhow.”
“But I don’t mean to give it up,” said Bill, scratching
his head as he labored to devise a better plan.
The difficulty was discussed for some time, but there
seemed to be no way of meeting it. Bill was one of
the crew of the second cutter, and he was sure to be
missed when the ship’s company were piped away. If
Bark, who did not belong to any boat, took his oar,
the boatswain, whose place was in the second cutter
when all hands left the vessel, would notice the change.
Bill was almost in despair, and insisted that no amount
of brains could overcome the difficulty. The conspirator
who was to “do the job” was certain to be missed
when the ship’s company took to the boats. To be
missed was to proclaim who the incendiary was when
the fire was investigated.
“We may as well give it up for the present, and wait
for a better time,” suggested Bark, who was as unable
as his companion to solve the problem.
“No, I won’t,” replied Bill, taking a newspaper from
his breast–pocket. “We may never have another
chance; and I believe in striking while the iron is
hot.”
“Don’t get us into a scrape for nothing. We can’t
do any thing now,” protested Bark.
“Now’s the day, and now’s the hour!” exclaimed
Bill, scowling like the villain of a melodrama.
“What are you going to do?” demanded Bark, a
little startled by the sudden energy of his fellow–conspirator.
“Hold on, and you shall see,” answered Bill, as he
raised the trap–door over the scuttle.
“But stop, Bill! you were not to do any thing without
my consent.”
“All hands on deck! man the boats in fire order,”
yelled the boatswain on deck, after he had blown the
proper pipe.
Bill Stout paid no attention to the call or to the
remonstrance of his companion. Raising the trap, he
descended to the hold by the ladder under the scuttle.
Striking a match, he set fire to the newspaper in his
hand, and then cast it into the heap of hay and sawdust
that lay near the foot of the ladder. Hastily
throwing the box–covers and cases on the pile, he
rushed up the steps into the brig, and closed the scuttle.
He was intensely excited, and Bark was really
terrified at what he considered the insane rashness of
his associate in crime. But there was no time for
further talk; for Marline appeared at this moment, and
unlocked the door of the brig.
“Come, my hearties, you must go on shore for an
hour to have the smallpox smoked out of you; and I
wish they could smoke out some of the mischief that’s
in you at the same time,” said the adult boatswain.
“Come, and bear a hand lively, for all hands are in
boats by this time.”
Bill Stout led the way; and on this occasion he
needed no hurrying, for he was in haste to get away
from the vessel before the blaze revealed itself. In a
moment more he was on the thwart in the second
cutter where he belonged. Bark’s place was in another
boat, and they separated when they reached the deck.
The fire–bill assigned every person on board of the
vessel to a place in one of the boats, so that every
professor and steward as well as every officer and
seaman knew where to go without any orders. It was
the arrangement for leaving the ship in case of fire; and
it had worked with perfect success in the Young America
when she was sunk by the collision with the Italian
steamer. As the boats pulled away from the Tritonia,
the quarantine people boarded her to perform the
duty belonging to them.
Bill Stout endeavored to compose himself, but with
little success, though the general excitement prevented
his appearance from being noticed. He was not so
hardened in crime that he could see the vessel on fire
without being greatly disturbed by the act; and it was
more than probable that, by this time, he was sorry he
had done it. He did not expect the fire to break out
for some little time; and it had not occurred to him
that the quarantine people would extend their operation
to the hold of the vessel.
The boats landed on the beach; and all hands were
marched up to a kind of tent, a short distance from the
water. There were fifty–five of them, and they were
divided into two squads for the fumigating process.
“How is this thing to be done?” asked Scott, as he
halted by the side of Raimundo, at the tent.
“I have not the least idea what it is all about,”
replied the young Spaniard.
“I suppose we are to take up our quarters in this
tent.”
“Not for very long; for all the rest of the squadron
have been operated upon in a couple of hours.”
The health officer now beckoned them to enter the
tent. It was of the shape of a one–story house. The
canvas on the sides and end was tacked down to heavy
planks on the ground, so as to make it as tight as possible.
There was only a small door; and, when the first
squad had entered, it was carefully closed, so that the
interior seemed to be almost air–tight. In the centre of
the tent was a large tin pan, which contained some
chemical ingredient. The health officer then poured
another ingredient into the pan; and the union of the
two created quite a tempest, a dense smoke or vapor
rising from the vessel, which immediately filled the tent.
“Whew!” whistled Scott, as he inhaled the vapor.
“These Spaniards ought to have a patent for getting up
a bad smell. This can’t be beat, even by the city of
Chicago.”
“I am glad you think my countrymen are good for
something,” laughed Raimundo.
The students coughed, sneezed, and made all the fuss
that was necessary, and a good deal more. The health
officer laughed at the antics of the party, and dismissed
them in five minutes, cleansed from all taint of smallpox
or yellow fever.
“Where’s your blaze?” asked Bark Lingall, as they
withdrew from the others who had just left the tent.
“Hush up! don’t say a word about it,” whispered
Bill; “it hasn’t got a–going yet.”
“But those quarantine folks are on board; and if
there were any fire there they would have seen it
before this time,” continued Bark nervously.
“Dry up! not another word! If we are seen talking
together the vice will know that we are at the bottom
of the matter.”
Bill Stout shook off his companion, and walked about
with as much indifference as he could assume. Every
minute or two he glanced at the Tritonia, expecting to
see the flames, or at least the smoke, rising above her
decks. But no flame or smoke appeared, not even the
vapor of the disinfectants.
The second squad of the ship’s company were sent
into the tent after the preparations were completed;
and in the course of an hour the health officer gave the
vice–principal permission to return to his vessel. The
boats were manned; the professors and others took
their places, and the bowmen shoved off. Bill began
to wonder where his blaze was, for ample time had
elapsed for the flames to envelop the schooner, if she
was to burn at all. Still there was no sign of fire or
smoke about the beautiful craft. She rested on the
water as lightly and as trimly as ever. Bill could not
understand it; but he came to the conclusion that the
quarantine men had extinguished the flames. The
burning of the vessel did not rest upon his conscience,
it is true; but he was not satisfied, as he probably
would not have been if the Tritonia had been destroyed.
He felt as though he had attempted to do a big thing,
and had failed. He was not quite the hero he intended
to be in the estimation of his fellow–conspirators.
The four boats of the Tritonia came alongside the
schooner; and, when the usual order of things had been
fully restored, the signal for sailing appeared on the
steamer. The odor of the chemicals remained in the
cabin and steerage for a time; but the circulation of
the air soon removed it. It was four o’clock in the
afternoon; and, in order to enable the students to see
what they might of the city as the fleet went up to the
port, the lessons were not resumed. The fore–topsail,
jib, and mainsail were set, the anchor weighed, and the
Tritonia followed the Prince in charge of a pilot who
had presented himself as soon as the fumigation was
completed.
“You belong in the cage,” said Marline, walking
up to the two conspirators, as soon as the schooner
began to gather headway.
Bill and Bark followed the boatswain to the steerage,
and were locked into the brig.
“Here we are again,” said Bark, when Marline had
returned to the deck. “I did not expect when we left,
to come back again.”
“Neither did I; and I don’t understand it,” replied
Bill, with a sheepish look. “I certainly fixed things
right for something different. I lighted the newspaper,
and put it under the hay, sawdust, and boxes. I was
sure there would be a blaze in fifteen minutes. I can’t
explain it; and I am going down to see how it was.”
“Not now: some one will see you,” added Bark.
“No; everybody is looking at the sights. Besides,
as the thing has failed, I want to fix things so that no
one will suspect any thing if the pile of hay and stuff
should be overhauled.”
Bark made no further objection, and his companion
hastened down the ladder. Pulling over the pile of
rubbish, he found the newspaper he had ignited.
Only a small portion of it was burned, and it was
evident that the flame had been smothered when the
boxes and covers had been thrown on the heap. Nothing
but the newspaper bore the marks of the fire; and,
putting this into his pocket, he returned to the brig.
“I shall do better than that next time,” said he,
when he had explained to Bark the cause of the failure.
Bill Stout was as full of plans and expedients as
ever; and, before the anchor went down, he was willing
to believe that “the job” could be better done at
another time.