THE FRUITS OF REPENTANCE.
The mail for the squadron—forwarded by the
principal’s banker in Barcelona—had been
following the fleet down the coast for a week, but was
received soon after it anchored at Carthagena. Among
the letters was one from Don Manuel, Raymond’s
uncle in New York. He was astonished that his
nephew had ventured into Spain, when he had been
cautioned not to do so. He was glad he had left his
vessel, and hoped the principal would do nothing to
bring him back. It was extremely important that his
nephew should not be restored to his uncle in Barcelona,
for reasons which Henry would explain if necessary.
If the fugitive was, by any mischance, captured
by Don Alejandro or his agents, Don Manuel wished
to be informed of the fact at once by cable; and
it would be his duty to hasten to Spain without
delay.
Mr. Lowington was greatly astonished at this letter,
and handed it to Dr. Winstock. It seemed to indicate
that a satisfactory explanation could be given of the
singular conduct of the second master of the Tritonia,
and that he would be able to justify his course.
“That is not the kind of letter I expected to receive,”
said the principal, when the surgeon had read it.
“There is evidently some family quarrel which Don
Manuel does not wish to disclose to others,” replied
the doctor.
“But Don Manuel ought to have informed me
that he did not wish to have his nephew taken into
Spain.”
“We can’t tell about that till we know all the facts
in the case. I have no doubt that the uncle in Barcelona
is the legal guardian of Enrique Raimundo,” continued
the doctor.
“Then how did the boy come into the possession of
Don Manuel?”
“I don’t know; but he seems to be actuated by very
strong motives, for he is coming to Spain if the young
man falls into the hands of his legal guardian. I don’t
understand it; but I am satisfied that it is a case for
the lawyers to work upon.”
“I think not; for Don Manuel seems to believe that
the safety of his nephew can only be secured by keeping
him out of Spain; in other words, that he has no case
which he is willing to take into a Spanish court.”
“Perhaps you are right; but it looks to me like a
fortune for the lawyers to pick upon; though I must
say that Don Francisco is one of the most gentlemanly
and obliging attorneys I ever met, and seems to ask
for nothing that is not perfectly fair.”
They could not solve the problem; and it was no
use to discuss it. The principal had done all he could
to recover the second master of the Tritonia, or rather
to assist the detective who was in search of him. The
last news of him, brought by Bill Stout, was that the
fugitive had gone to Africa. The _alguacil_ had gone to
Africa, but Raimundo had left before he arrived. He
was unable to obtain any clew to him, for Raymond
looked like Spaniards in general; and in the dress he
had put on in Valencia he did not look like Raymond
in the uniform of an officer. While the fugitive was
sunning himself in Gibraltar, the pursuer was looking
for him in Italy and Egypt. The principal was confident
he had gone to the East, for runaways would not
expose themselves to capture till their money was all
gone. Besides, some of the officers of the Tritonia
said that Raymond had often expressed a desire to visit
Egypt and the Holy Land.
The affairs of the squadron went along smoothly for
six weeks. The students were studious, now that they
had nothing to distract their attention. Bill Stout staid
in the brig till he promised to learn his lessons, and
then was let out. He did not like the brig after the
trap in the floor was screwed down so that he could not
raise it. Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs fell out with him;
first, because he had run away without them, and, second,
because he was a disagreeable and unreasonable
fellow. Bill did study his lessons in order to keep out
of the brig; but he was behind every class in the vessel,
and his ignorance was so dense that the professors
were disgusted with him. It was about six weeks after
the squadron took up its quarters in the harbor of Carthagena,
that a shore–boat came up to the gangway, and
Bark Lingall stepped upon the deck of the Tritonia.
Of course his heart beat violently; but he came back
like the Prodigal Son. He was wiser and better than
when he left, and he was ready to submit cheerfully to
the penalty of his offence; and he expected to be committed
to the brig as soon as he showed himself to the
principal.
It was nearly dark when the prodigal boarded the
Tritonia, and Scott was in charge of the anchor watch
which had been set for the night. He looked at Bark
as he came up the side; and, though the fugitive had
changed his dress, he recognized him at once.
“Lingall!” exclaimed Scott. “You haven’t made a
mistake as Stout did; have you?”
“I don’t know what mistake Stout made, except the
mistake of running away; and I made that one with
him,” replied Bark.
“Stout came on board of the Prince at Lisbon, thinking
she was a steamer bound to England,” laughed
Scott.
“I could not mistake the Tritonia for a steamer,
even if I wanted to go to England.”
“Where did you leave Raimundo?” asked the
officer anxiously.
“Here is a letter from him for you; and that will
explain it all. I wish to see the vice–principal,” continued
Bark.
Mr. Pelham was summoned, and he gave a good–natured
greeting to the returned fugitive, not doubting
that he had spent all his money in riotous living, and
had come back because he could not travel any more
without funds.
“Money all gone, Lingall?” asked the vice–principal,
who, like his superior, believed that satire was an
effective means of discipline at times.
“No, sir: I have over fifty pounds left,” replied
Bark, more respectfully than he had formerly been in
the habit of speaking, even to the principal.
“What did you come back for, then?” demanded
Mr. Pelham.
“Because I am sorry for what I have done, and ask
to be forgiven,” answered Bark, taking off his hat, and
fixing his gaze upon the deck, while his bosom was
swelling with emotion.
The vice–principal was touched by his manner. He
had stood in the same position before the principal
five years before; and he indulged in no more light
words. He took the prodigal down into his cabin, so
that whatever passed between them might have no
witnesses.
“Do you come back voluntarily, Lingall?” asked
the vice–principal in gentle tones.
“I do, sir: I left Cadiz three days ago. I had been
waiting there a month for the squadron to arrive. We
did not know where it was, for the last we could learn
of it was its arrival in Carthagena.”
“You say we: were you not alone?”
“No, sir: Raymond was with me.”
“Who is Raymond?”
“Raimundo: he has translated his name into English,
and now prefers to be called by that name.”
“And you left him in Cadiz?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is he there now?”
“I don’t know, sir; but I think not. He did not
tell me where he was going, and I did not wish to
know.”
“I see,” added Mr. Pelham. “I hope he will not
be taken by those who are after him.”
Bark looked up, utterly astonished at this last
remark; for he supposed the sympathies of the officers
were with Don Francisco, as they had been at the time
he left the Tritonia. As Mr. Pelham was in the confidence
of the principal in regard to the affair of the
second master, he had been permitted to read the
letter from Don Manuel; and this fact will explain
the remark.
“Raymond does not know from what port the
squadron will sail for the islands; but he wants to
return to his ship as soon as he can,” added Bark.
As Raymond’s case seemed to be of more interest
than his own, Bark told all he knew about his late
companion; but no one was any wiser in regard to his
present hiding–place.
“Where have you been all this time?” asked the
vice–principal, when his curiosity was fully satisfied
concerning Raymond.
“I have been a good deal worse than you think I
have; and I wish that running away was the worst
thing I had on my conscience,” replied Bark, in answer
to this question.
“I am sorry to hear you say that; but, whatever you
have done, it is better to make a clean breast of it,”
added Mr. Pelham.
“That is what I am going to do, sir,” replied Bark;
and he prefaced his confession with what had passed
between Raymond and himself when he decided upon
his course of action.
He related the substance of his conversations with
Bill Stout at the beginning of the conspiracy, and then
proceeded to inform the vice–principal what had occurred
while they were in the brig together, including the setting
of the fire in the hold.
“Do you mean to say that Stout intended to burn
the vessel?” demanded Mr. Pelham, astonished and
shocked at the revelation.
“He and I so intended; and we actually started the
fire three or four times,” answered Bark, detailing all
the particulars.
“You are very tender of Stout—the villain!” exclaimed
the vice–principal. “It appears that he proposed
the plan, and set the fire, while you assented to
the act.”
“I don’t wish to make it out that I am not just as
guilty as Stout.”
“I understand you perfectly,” added Mr. Pelham.
“The villain pretended to be penitent when he came
back, and told lies enough to sink the ship, if they had
had any weight with me. Mr. Marline reported to me
that there had been fire in the old stuff in the hold. I
thought there was some mistake about it; but it is all
plain enough now.”
Bark proceeded with his narrative of the escape,
which had been before related by Bill Stout; but the
two stories differed in some respects, especially in respect
to the conduct of Bill in the affray with the Catalonian
in the felucca. He told about his wanderings
and waitings with Raymond, which explained why he
had not come back before.
“Stout said that you and he pulled the boatman down
when Raimundo missed him with the tiller,” said Mr.
Pelham.
“I mean to tell the truth, if I know how; but Bill
did not lift his finger to do any thing, not even after
Raymond and I had the fellow down,” replied Bark.
“Raymond called him a coward on the spot; and I
wish he were here to tell you so, for I know you would
believe him.”
“And I believe you, Lingall.”
At this moment there was a knock at the state–room
door.
“Come in,” said the principal; and Scott opened
the door at this summons.
“I have a letter from Mr. Raimundo, sir, in which
he has a great deal to say about Lingall,” said the
lieutenant. “I thought you might wish to know what
he says before you settle this case. I will leave it
with you, sir; for there is nothing private in it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” replied the vice–principal,
as he took the letter.
He opened and read the letter. It related entirely
to the affairs of Lingall, and was an earnest plea for
his forgiveness. It recited all the incidents of the
cruise in the felucca, and the particulars of Bark’s
reformation. The writer added that he hoped to be
able to join his ship soon; and should do so, if he
could, when she was out of Spanish waters.
“Now, Lingall, you may go on board of the Prince
with me,” said Mr. Pelham, when he had finished reading
the letter.
A boat was manned, and they were pulled to the
steamer. The whole story was gone over again; and
Mr. Lowington read the letter of Raymond. The
principal and Mr. Pelham had a long consultation
alone; and then Bark was ordered to return to his duty,
without so much as a reprimand. Bark was bewildered
at this unexpected clemency. He was satisfied that
it was Raymond’s letter that saved him, because it
assured the principal of the thorough reformation of
the culprit. The vice–principal told him afterwards,
that it was as much his own confession of the conspiracy,
which was not even suspected on board, as it
was the letter, that produced the leniency in the minds
of the authorities. The boat that brought Mr. Pelham
and Bark back to the Tritonia immediately conveyed
Bill Stout, in charge of Peaks, to the Prince, where he
was committed to the brig, without any explanation of
the charge against him.
Bill did not know what to make of this sharp discipline;
and he felt very much like a martyr, for he
believed he had been “a good boy,” as he called the
chaplain’s lambs. He had time to think about it
when the bars separated him from the rest of his shipmates.
The news that Bark Lingall had returned was
circulated through the Tritonia before he left the vessel.
He could only explain his present situation by
the supposition that Bark had told about the conspiracy
to burn the vessel. This must be the reason why
he was caged in the Prince rather than in the Tritonia.
For three days the stewards brought him his food;
and for an hour, each forenoon, the big boatswain
walked him up and down the deck to give him his
exercise; but it was in vain that he asked them what
he was caged for. As none of these officials knew,
none of them could tell him. On the fourth day of his
confinement, a meeting of the faculty was held for consultation
in regard to the affairs of the squadron. This
was the high court of the academy, and consisted of
the principal, the vice–principals, the chaplain, the surgeon,
and the professors,—fourteen in all. Though
the authority of the principal was supreme, he preferred
to have this council to advise him in important
matters.
When the faculty had assembled, Peaks brought Bill
Stout into the cabin, and placed him at the end of the
long table at which the members were seated. He was
awed and impressed by the situation. The principal
stated that the culprit was charged with attempting to
set fire to the Tritonia, and asked what he had to say
for himself. Bill made haste to deny the charge with
all his might; but he might as well have denied his
own existence. Raymond’s letter describing what he
saw in the hold was read, but the parts relating to Bark
were omitted. Bill supposed the letter was the only
evidence against him, and the writer had spared Bark
because he was a friend. Bill declared that Raymond
hated him, and had made up this story to injure him.
He had been trying to do his duty, and no complaint
had been made against him since the fleet had been at
anchor.
The chaplain thought a student ought not to be condemned
on the evidence of one who had run away
from his vessel. As Bill would not be satisfied, it
became necessary to call Bark Lingall. The reformed
seaman gave his evidence in the form of a confession;
and, when he had finished his story, no one doubted
his sincerity, or the truth of his statement. By a unanimous
vote of the faculty, approved by the principal,
Bill Stout was dismissed from the academy as one
whom it was not safe to have on board any of the
vessels, and as one whose character was too bad to
allow him to associate with the students. A letter to
his father was written; and he was sent home in charge
of the carpenter of the Josephine, who was about to
return to New York on account of the illness of his
son.
The particulars of this affair were kept from the
students; for the principal did not wish to have them
know that any one had attempted to burn one of the
vessels, lest it might tempt some other pupil to seek a
dismissal by the same means. Bill Stout was glad to
be sent away, even in disgrace.
Early in March Mr. Lowington received a letter from
Don Francisco, asking if any thing had been heard
from Raymond, and informing him that his client Don
Alejandro was dangerously sick. The principal, since
he had received the letter from Don Manuel, had declined
to assist in the search for the absentee, though
he had not communicated his views to the lawyer.
The detective had not returned from his tour in the
East, and was doubtless willing to continue the search
as long as he was paid for it. The principal was “a
square man;” and he informed Don Francisco that his
views on the subject had changed, and that he hoped
the fugitive would not be captured. Ten days after
this letter was answered came Don Francisco himself.
He went on board of the Prince; and, in spite of the
reply of the principal, he was as cordial and courteous
as ever.
“I suppose you have received my letter, declining to
do any thing more to secure the return of the absentee,”
Mr. Lowington began, when they were seated in
the grand saloon.
“I have received it,” replied Don Francisco; “but
now all the circumstances of the case are changed, and
I am confident that you will do all you can to find the
young man. Your letter came to me on the day before
the funeral of my client.”
“Then Don Alejandro is dead!” exclaimed the
principal, startled by the intelligence.
“He died in the greatest agony and remorse,” added
the lawyer. “He was sick four weeks, and suffered
the most intense pain till death relieved him. He confessed
to me, when I went to make his will, that he had
intended to get his nephew out of the way in some
manner, before the boy was of an age to inherit his
father’s property. Don Manuel had charged him with
this purpose before he left Spain, and had repeated the
charge in his letters. He confessed because he wanted
his brother’s forgiveness, as well as that of the Church.
He wished me to see that justice was done to his
nephew. When I wrote you that last letter, my client
desired to see the young man, and to implore his forgiveness
for the injury he had done him as a child, and
for that he had meditated.”
“This is a very singular story,” said Mr. Lowington.
“You did not give me the reason for which Don Alejandro
wished to see his nephew.”
“I did not know it myself. What I have related
transpired since I wrote that letter. The case is one
of the remarkable ones; but I have known a few just
like it,” continued the lawyer. “My client was told
by the physicians that he could not recover. Such an
announcement to a Christian who has committed a
crime—and to meditate it is the same thing in the eye
of the Church, though not of the law—could not but
change the whole current of his thoughts. I know that
it caused my client more suffering than his bodily ailments,
severe as the latter were. The terrors of the
world to come haunted him; and he believed, that, if
he did not do justice to that young man before he died,
he would suffer for his crime through all the ages of
eternity; and I believe so too. I think he confessed
the crime to me, after he had done so to the priest,
because he believed his son, who had been in his confidence,
would carry out his wicked purpose after his
father was gone; for this son would inherit the estate as
the next heir under the will of the grandfather.”
“I can understand how things appear to a man as
wicked as your client was, when death stares him in the
face,” added Mr. Lowington.
“Now the young man is wanted. He is not of age,
but he ought to have a voice in the selection of his
guardian.”
“I don’t know where he is under the altered circumstances,
any more than I did before,” replied the
principal; “but I am willing to make an effort to find
him. Is he in any danger from the son of your late
client?”
“None at all: the son denies that he ever had any
knowledge of the business; and, since the confession
of the father, the son would not dare to do any thing
wrong. Besides, my client put all the property in my
hands before he died.”
The next thing was to find Raymond. He might see
the announcement of the death of his uncle in the
newspapers; but, if he did not, he would be sure to
keep out of the way till the squadron was ready to sail
for the “isles of the sea.” Mr. Lowington sent for
Bark Lingall, who had by this time established his
character as one of the best–behaved and most earnest
students in his vessel. The principal rehearsed the
events that made it desirable to find Raymond.
“Do you think you could find him, Lingall?” asked
Mr. Lowington.
“I think I might if I could speak Spanish,” replied
Bark modestly.
“You and Scott are the only students who know his
history; and he would allow you to approach him, while
he would keep out of the way of any other person connected
with the squadron. We shall sail for Malaga
to–morrow; and you shall have a courier to do your
talking for you,” continued the principal.
Bark was pleased with the mission. He was furnished
with a letter from Don Francisco; and, as he
had some idea of what Raymond’s plans were, he was
hopeful of success. The squadron sailed the next day,
and arrived at Malaga in thirty hours.