THE LETTER FROM LONDON.
“I thought you said you had no friends to die or be sick,” said O’Hara,
when Tom Speers had read the neglected despatch.
“I said I had no near friends,” explained Tom.
“Don’t you call your uncle a near friend, especially if you have no
others?”
“I should say that would depend upon circumstances. I never lived with
my uncle, and I never saw a great deal of him. He was a very rich man:
I have heard it said that he was worth five or six millions.”
“Murder! what an uncle!” exclaimed O’Hara. “Five or six millions!
that’s a power of money. How many children had he?”
“None at all; not a chick nor a child,” replied Tom, amused at the
manner of his companion, who always indulged in the brogue when he was
excited.
“Howly St. Patrick! five or six millions of money, and not a child in
the world? What has he done with it all?”
“I don’t know,” replied Tom coolly.
“How many brothers and sisters had he?” asked O’Hara, opening his
mouth with the interest he felt in the case.
“None at all.”
“How can he be your uncle, then? That’s what bothers me.”
“My father was his only brother, and they had no sisters. My father
died when I was ten years old; and my mother died two years ago, just
before I joined the academy ship.”
“Begorra, then you are the heir of the five or six millions!” shouted
O’Hara, as excited as though all the money were coming to him. “Faix,
I’m glad to be in the same watch with you! I shall make it the business
of my loife to cultivate your frindship.”
“I don’t think it will pay for you to do so, for I never saw my uncle
a dozen times in my life; and I am confident he has given his money to
some other person,” answered Tom, laughing at the enthusiasm of his
companion. “He never did a thing for me, and, what is worse, he never
did a thing for my mother when she needed help; and so it isn’t likely
that he has left any of his money for me.”
“Whose name is it signed to the despatch?”
“Rodwood; Judge Rodwood. He always was a great crony and adviser of my
uncle; and now I suppose he is the executor or administrator.”
“Why should he telegraph to you if your uncle didn’t lave you the
money?” demanded O’Hara warmly.
“I don’t know: I may get the letters he sent before we sail for home.”
“But he says you are to go to London quick; and I shall not have you in
my watch, after all.”
“Yes, you will; for I shall not go to London,” added Tom decidedly.
“Howly Mother! not go, when there is five or six millions of money
waiting for you to put your hand to it?” gasped O’Hara.
“I don’t know that there is even a single dollar waiting for me; and if
I knew there were a million I wouldn’t go,” answered Tom, laughing at
his friend’s zeal.
“You wouldn’t! what are you made of? You are cowlder than a frozen
brickbat! What’s the rayson you won’t go?” inquired the lieutenant.
“I’ll tell you why. My father died worth only about five thousand
dollars. My mother kept this money for me; and she took care of me with
only an income of three hundred and fifty dollars a year. She asked my
uncle for a little help, and he took no notice of her letter. This was
a year before she died, and she wanted to send me to college. Then she
went to see him, thinking he might not have got the letter. He put her
off for a time; but he finally told her he would do nothing for her. I
never went to see him after that, though he often sent for me. He did
not like my mother, and he never invited her to his house.
“After my mother died, I made up my mind that I wanted to go to sea,
and work my way up to be captain of a ship. My mother’s brother was
my guardian, and he consented to use my little fortune in paying my
expenses in this institution. Now I am here; and I have just got waked
up as I never was before. At one bound, I have become first master
of the Tritonia. I like the berth; and I am going to do a great deal
better than I have yet. Now, do you think I will leave this high place
in the vessel at the call of one I don’t care a straw about? I never
even saw Judge Rodwood, though I have heard enough about him.”
“He may be your guardian under the will.”
“I don’t care if he is: I have only one guardian that I know any thing
about, and that’s my uncle on my mother’s side. I like this situation
too well to leave it,” continued Tom, independent as a basket of chips.
“But the money?” suggested O’Hara.
“I don’t know that my rich uncle has left me any money; and, in fact,
I don’t care if he has. I have not quite forgiven him for refusing to
help my mother.”
“You might take his money, whether you forgive him or not.”
“Now he is dead, I am willing to forgive him; but I don’t ask any
favors of him or his estate.”
“Faix, you are moighty indepindint.”
“I love the Tritonia with all my heart just now; and I wouldn’t leave
her for filthy lucre any more than I would cast off the girl that loved
me for it. Judge Rodwood is a great boatman, and has a steam-yacht,
though I believe my uncle owned it; so that I might have a chance to
go to sea in good shape if I went to him. But I like my place on board
this vessel better; and I mean to stay here as long as I can. I have
told you all about my affairs, O’Hara; and now you will not blow on me,
will you?”
“Faix, I won’t, thin! Not a word shall pass my lips,” protested the
warm-hearted Irishman.
“If the vice-principal should see this message, or hear of it, he would
tell Mr. Lowington; and he might make me go to London, whether I am
willing or not,” added Tom rather anxiously.
“I’m sure he would make you go to London for your own good. But not a
word will I spake till I have your permission to do so.”
“Thank you, O’Hara: I am sure we shall be good friends.”
“You may bet your life on that! You are a broth of a boy, with five or
six millions, more or less, in your trousers-pocket; and you may depind
upon it, I’ll stick to you like a brother,” said O’Hara, with a wild
laugh.
“Don’t consider me an heir till we have further information. But we
were very good friends before I read this message to you.”
“Faix, we were!”
The conversation was continued till the two officers were called to
attend to their duties, when the first part of the watch was relieved.
The following week was spent at Seville, and then the squadron returned
to Gibraltar. The vessels had hardly anchored before Mr. Lowington’s
agent came off with a mail for the students and others on board. There
was a letter for Tom Speers.
He put it into his pocket without stopping to read it, though not
till he had seen that the post-mark was London. This was the letter
alluded to in the telegraphic despatch; and doubtless it contained full
particulars of the death of his uncle, and an explanation of the reason
why he was summoned to London. Tom was not inclined to read it, for he
did not wish to be told of any thing that would call him away from the
Tritonia. His ambition was thoroughly aroused, and he was resolved to
win the highest position in the vessel.
All who had received letters from home were busy reading them, and the
discipline of the squadron was sufficiently relaxed to permit them to
do so without interruption; but Tom Speers put his letter into his
pocket. O’Hara had news from home, and he was busy digesting it, so
that he could not speak to him about his affairs. He felt the need of
counsel, while he dreaded to receive it lest it should oblige him to
abandon the Tritonia and the brilliant hopes of the future.
Perhaps his uncle had left him a fortune, for there were a dozen
fortunes in the vast pile of wealth the dead man had left behind him.
It was even probable, in Tom’s estimation, that he had done so, for he
had been named after his uncle; and, if he did not care for his nephew,
he might desire to have his name live after he could no longer bear it
except upon the costly monument that marked his last resting-place.
The young man felt no deep affection for his uncle, and had no great
respect for his memory. A few thousands given to his mother while she
was pinching herself to bring up her boy would have been better than as
many hundred thousands to him now that she was gone.
Tom felt that he was alone in the world, and he had only to look out
for himself. While he cherished no spite or ill-will towards his
departed uncle, he did not quite like the idea of being made a rich
man by his bounty. He was very proud and independent; and to accept a
fortune from his uncle, seemed almost like treachery to his mother. It
was the sentimentalism of the young man, which a few years of contact
with the world would obliterate.
The letter from Judge Rodwood was in his pocket, and it seemed to burn
there. He was curious to know its contents, but he did not wish to be
influenced by any thing it might contain. He did not like to be tempted
by wealth to give up his present ambitious prospects. He thought every
minute, as he looked at his shipmates reading their letters from home,
that he would open the one from the judge; but he did not. He sat upon
the quarter-deck, gazing listlessly at all the objects in sight, from
the lofty rock bristling with guns and batteries, to the scenes which
were transpiring on board of the schooner; but he could not decide to
do any thing to settle the present problem of existence.
He had made up his mind to be a sailor. He had longed for a “life on
the ocean wave” since he was a small boy, and read the tales of the
sea; but his devotion to his mother did not permit him to mention the
subject after he had observed her shudder when he alluded to it for the
first and last time. But he had dreamed, all the time, of roaming the
seas, and visiting the distant lands of the earth. He had put himself
in the way to realize these visions as soon as he had in a measure
recovered from the deep grief occasioned by the death of his mother.
Now, when he had almost reached the pinnacle of his hopes, came this
command of his uncle’s executor--as he supposed the judge was--to
abandon his delightful mission.
But Judge Rodwood was not his guardian, so far as he knew; and he was
not willing to recognize his right to order him to London. Perry
Bowman, his mother’s brother, was all the guardian he could recognize.
This gentleman had possession of his little fortune, or what was left
of it; for his expenses in the academy squadron had already absorbed a
considerable portion of the principal, besides the income.
While he was thinking of the subject, unable to come to a decision in
regard to the letter, which he was confident was a repetition of the
order for him to hasten to London, he saw a boat leave the American
Prince, and pull first to the Josephine, and then to the Tritonia. The
officer in charge of it delivered a note to each vice-principal, and
then returned to the steamer, which was still taking in coal at the
station.
All the preparation for the voyage among “The Isles of the Sea” had
been completed on board of the two consorts. All the water-tanks and
spare casks had been filled with water, and an abundance of fresh
and salt provisions had been taken on board. The compasses had been
adjusted, and the chronometers had been regulated; and every thing was
in readiness for sailing at a moment’s notice, though the steamer would
not have received all her coal till after dark.
The boat which brought the note had hardly returned to the flag-ship
before the signal for sailing appeared at the mainmast of the Tritonia.
Word was passed along among the officers, that the two schooners would
sail at ten, leaving the American Prince to follow in the evening.
“We are off in ten minutes,” said O’Hara, disturbing the meditations of
Tom Speers, as soon as the news had been circulated among the students.
“I am not sorry that we are not to wait all day in port for the
steamer,” replied Tom. “You have had letters from home, O’Hara. I hope
your friends are all well.”
“First class,” replied the fourth lieutenant. “And did you get the
letters from London of which you were advised in the despatch?”
“I got one letter, but it is a very thick one, and very likely the
envelope contains two or three of them.”
“Well, what is it all about? How much money has your uncle left you?”
asked O’Hara glibly, but with deep interest manifested in his bright
eyes.
“I don’t know: I haven’t opened the letter yet,” replied Tom, with a
smile.
“Haven’t opened it!” exclaimed the lieutenant, holding up both hands in
amazement. “Upon my sowl, you are a lunatic, Speers! you haven’t a head
upon your shoulders at all, at all!”
“Now, I think I have,” added Tom, laughing heartily at the earnestness
of his companion. “Did you open your letters?”
“To be sure I did.”
“Why did you open them?”
“Why did I open them? Howly Mother, what a question! Why did I open
them? To see what was in them. What else would I open them for?”
“For nothing else. You wanted to know what was in them; and the right
thing for you to do was to open them. I don’t want to know what is in
mine; and for that reason I don’t open them. Isn’t my way of doing it
just as sensible as yours?” demanded Tom, satisfied with his logic.
“You don’t want to know what is in them! By the powers, that’s the
rayson why you are a lunatic! I don’t know but I ought to report you
to the vice-principal before we sail, that you may have proper medical
tratement before we get out of the raych of the docther.”
“Don’t do that, if you please, O’Hara,” said Tom earnestly. “I told you
the reason why I did not wish to be sent to London.”
“Never you fear. Sure, it’s joking I was. I wouldn’t mutther the first
taste of a sound to bother you; but, upon my sowl, you are the quayrest
boy I ever met in the whole course of my life. You don’t care a straw
how much money your rich uncle has left you!”
“I don’t think I do. If he had given my poor mother a hundredth part of
his big fortune when she was alive, I would have blessed his memory,
and heeded his slightest wish, alive or dead.”
“Then the executor of your uncle must go down on his knees, and beg you
to take the fortune he has left you!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “If you
don’t want it yourself, take the money, and hand it over to the poor,
myself among the number.”
“I suppose I shall take whatever my uncle has left me; and I shall try
to make a good use of it. But when I came into the academy squadron, I
had made up my mind that I would be the architect of my own fortunes. I
came here to learn the arts of seamanship and navigation as the means
to earn my own living. I don’t feel like turning away from my plan yet.
I love the sea.”
“But with all the money your uncle will leave you, can’t you sail all
over the world in your own yacht; and that yacht a steamer like the
American Prince, or a full-rigged ship like the Young America? What are
you talking about?”
“But I want to finish my course in the Tritonia; and, if you won’t
laugh at me, I mean to be the captain of her before she reaches the
shores of the United States,” said Tom, with enthusiasm.
“Oh, murther! is that what’s the matter wid you?” ejaculated O’Hara,
with a laugh. “I had that same fayver; and, when I first got into the
Tritonia, I said to myself that I would be the captain of her in six
months; and now it’s more than a year I’m in her, and I’m only fourth
lieutenant.”
“If I fail, I fail; but I shall do all I can to win the position.”
“But don’t be a lunatic any longer! Open the letter, and see what’s the
matter. Faix I’m dying with curiosity to know what’s in it,” continued
the lieutenant.
“One reason why I did not open it before was that I wanted to talk
with you about it; for I believe you are the best friend I have in the
ship,” said Tom earnestly; for he had a great admiration for his fellow
watch-officer.
“Thank you for that. Upon my sowl, I think you are a good fellow, if
you are a lunatic on the letter. Take the advice of your best friend on
board, and see what’s in that envelope immejitly.”
“I will, since you advise it,” replied Tom, taking the letter from his
pocket.
While O’Hara was glancing at the superscription, the boatswain’s
whistle sounded through the ship.
“All hands, up anchor!” shouted that officer, after he had piped the
call.
Tom Speers grasped the letter, and returned it to his pocket. At the
next instant he was at his station, for with his lofty ambition he
could not afford to be the last in his place. The first lieutenant was
in position on the quarter-deck, with the speaking-trumpet in his hand,
though it was an emblem of authority, rather than a useful implement in
a quiet time.
“Man the capstan!” said this high official, in moderate tones,
considering the magnitude of the position he filled.
The order was repeated by the other officers till it came to the
forecastle. Every seaman knew precisely what he was to do in the
operation of weighing the anchor; and in a moment the bars were shipped
and swiftered. All hands were then in position, and waiting for the
next order.
“Heave around! Heave in the cable to a short stay!” added the first
lieutenant; and the order went forward as before.
The first master had been directed to inform him when the cable had the
proper scope, which had been indicated to him.
“Avast heaving!” said Tom Speers. “Cable at a short stay, sir,” he
added to the first lieutenant.
“Pawl the capstan! Unship the bars!” continued the executive officer.
The cable was well stoppered, or secured where it was. About
three-fourths of the whole of the cable which had been run out was
hauled in by the operations described. The wind was moderate in the
harbor, and only enough was now out to hold the vessel while the rest
of the preparations were made for getting under way. The part out was
“up and down,” and a few turns of the capstan would have lifted the
anchor clear of the bottom.
The length of cable used in anchoring, or in holding the vessel at a
short stay, requires the exercise of discretion and judgment; but the
young officers were required to determine for themselves all these
questions. The harder it blows, or the swifter the tide, the greater
the scope of cable needed. It is true, the adult boatswain was always
on hand to see that the work was properly done on the forecastle; and
the vice-principal, who was the only adult seaman in the cabin, closely
observed the manœuvres made; but they never interfered, unless the
safety of the vessel required them to do so. If the young officers
were at fault, they were criticised afterwards, when the crew were not
present.
“Stations for loosing sail!” said the first lieutenant, when the cable
was at a short stay.
The fore-topsail was shaken out, the foresail and mainsail were set;
and the order was given to man the jib and flying-jib halyards, and to
ship the capstan bars again.
“Anchor a-weigh, sir!” reported the first master on the forecastle.
Tom Speers saw that the anchor was clear of the bottom when the hands
at the capstan had heaved a few turns.
“Let go the downhauls, and hoist away!” added the executive officer;
and at the order up went the jib and flying-jib.
The wind was about north, and the sails were trimmed as they filled. As
soon as the Tritonia was fairly under way, her fore-topmast-staysail,
fore-top-gallant-sail, and main-gaff-topsail were set. At the same time
the order was given to cat and fish the anchor, or hoist it up to the
cat-head, and then put it in its usual position when the vessel was at
sea.
As the beautiful craft swung around, and the breeze filled her sails,
ringing cheers came from the shore and from the men-of-war in the
harbor; all of which were returned with vigor by the young tars. With
the wind on the beam, the two schooners stood out of the bay, and in a
short time were passing through the Strait of Gibraltar. As they went
out into the broad ocean, the wind freshened till they were making ten
knots an hour. It was study time for the port-watch, and Tom had no
chance yet to read his letter.