THE WRECK OF THE CASTLE WILLIAM.
The sound of the bell was heard again in a few minutes. It had a heavy
and dull tone, unlike that of the bells of the schooners. All hands on
the Ville d’Angers listened attentively to the sound.
“I think it must be the bell of one of the consorts,” said Capt.
O’Hara, when he had heard the bell at least a dozen times.
“It don’t sound like the bell of the Tritonia,” replied Tom Speers,
after he had heard it once more. “And all the sounds are from the same
bell. If the two schooners were off in that direction, we should hear
the bells of both of them.”
“I’ll tell you what it is: the fog makes the difference in the sound
from what we are accustomed to hear. We never heard the bell except
when we were on the deck where it was rung. It stands to reason that
it would be another thing when heard at a distance, and in a thick
fog,” continued the captain, who wished the sound might come from the
consorts, and was influenced by his desire.
The sound seemed to be a long way off; and the captain said it bothered
him to know how they happened to hear it when it was so far off. He
called Mr. Shakings and Capt. Fairfield, and asked them to give their
opinion in regard to the tones of the bell. They did not think it was
the bell of the Josephine, to which they were more accustomed to listen
on board; but it might be, for bells sounded different under varying
circumstances. At last O’Hara decided to run for the sound of the bell,
and directed the officer of the deck to change the course to north, for
this was the direction from which the sound came.
Capt. O’Hara could not reconcile himself to the sound of the bell; but
he thought, as had been suggested, that the condition of the atmosphere
might alter the tone of the Tritonia’s bell. He concluded that the
schooners had fallen off their course as the wind veered, and the Ville
d’Angers had run ahead of them. This was the only explanation he could
give; and, in the absence of a better one, it satisfied him for the
time. The firemen did their duty now, though Shakings showed himself to
them once in a while so that they need not forget him.
Every thing seemed to be going well on board, and a sharp lookout was
kept for the rest of the fleet ahead. The bell to the northward sounded
more and more distinctly as the steamer advanced; and the nearer she
came to it, the louder it sounded.
“That can’t be the bell of the Tritonia,” said Tom Speers, as he met
the captain on the poop-deck.
“Begorra, I don’t believe it is!” exclaimed O’Hara, in whose mind the
question had been raised anew. “Upon my sowl, it is big enough for a
church-bell; and we have come nearer to it than we were when we first
heard it.”
“It must be some other vessel,” added Speers. “It isn’t a steamer, or
she would whistle in such a fog as this.”
“No: sure it’s not a steamer; and what the blazes is it?” queried the
captain, very much puzzled. “I hope we shall not miss the rest of the
fleet.”
“I hope not; but, if the schooners stood down to the southward, we have
very little chance of seeing them again, unless this fog lifts soon,”
replied Speers.
“Have you seen Gregory and Clinch since the ship’s company was
stationed?” asked O’Hara, suddenly changing the topic of the
conversation, though he did not cease to peer into the dense fog ahead.
“Neither of them has been on deck since the second part of the
starboard watch took the deck,” answered Speers.
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know. They went into the cabin, and I suppose they are there
now. They have a state-room together.”
“I don’t quite like the conduct of Gregory, who is the first officer,”
added O’Hara, in a low tone. “He took the trouble to tell me he did not
approve the arrangement of the watches as I had made it.”
“I dare say he will assent to it,” added Tom. “I don’t know him at all,
and never served in the same vessel with him.”
“He used to be a mighty hard boy at the time he was in the steerage of
the Young America; but when he got into the Josephine, he reformed; and
Mr. Fluxion believes he has made a man of him. Perhaps he has: I don’t
know. If he has, there has been a big change in him.”
“Let us hope he will be a good officer while he is on board of the
steamer.”
“Certainly we will hope so; but it was a bad beginning for him to
object to the arrangement of the watches before he had been on board
two hours.”
“What does he object to?” asked Tom Speers; and he was willing to
believe there might be something wrong about the arrangement, for it
would not be at all strange if a mistake had been made.
Tom thought it might be possible that his friend the captain had
been just a little “airy” in his dealings with the two officers from
the Josephine, though he had never noticed any thing of the kind in
O’Hara while they had been together in the steamer. Such an exhibition
would not be very remarkable in a young man, placed in command of a
steamer with the arbitrary control of thirty of his companions. He was
determined to caution his friend in regard to the manifestation of
any thing that could be construed into an overbearing or domineering
spirit. He knew very well from experience, that such an appearance
would excite opposition, if there was none in the beginning.
“What does he object to?” repeated O’Hara. “He says he objects to the
arrangement of the watches.”
“What did you say to him?” asked Tom curiously, if not anxiously.
“I only told him I was sorry he didn’t like it,” replied the captain,
smiling, as though he thought he had answered the complaint very
properly.
“Did he say any thing more?”
“Yes, he did: he added that he didn’t think there was any need of
quarter-watches,” chuckled O’Hara; “and Clinch took the trouble to
say he didn’t think so either: as if he considered it important that I
should know the first and third officer were of the same mind on the
subject.”
O’Hara talked and chuckled and laughed like one who felt that he
occupied a strong position. He was quite happy over it; for, if there
was to be any trouble on board, he was altogether in the right, and the
other party all in the wrong.
“What did you say then?” inquired Tom Speers, desiring to know whether
or not there was any foundation for his fears and suspicion.
“I told them that showed we differed in opinion a little taste; and I
smiled as swately as though I was spaking to Miss Louise in the cabin
below. And that reminds me to say I think the girl is a little swate
on you, Tom, my boy, since you pulled her out of the say,” said the
captain, getting excited as he proceeded, and relapsing into his Irish
brogue.
“Never mind the girl,” added Tom impatiently, though he blushed a
little as he turned away to wipe off the dampness that had gathered on
his face from the fog. “I am not one of your romantic pups who think
a girl ought to be his wife because he has rendered her some little
service.”
“Faix, it was no little service you rendered her; for she was sure to
be drowned if you hadn’t got to her with the life-buoy as soon as you
did.”
“Never mind that now, Capt. O’Hara,” interposed the young hero.
“Oh! you are not on duty now; and you needn’t measure off your words
into lengths with me just now,” said O’Hara, with a laugh.
“Do you think Gregory is discontented?” asked Tom.
“If his words come from his heart, he is; but that is his fault,”
replied the captain very lightly. “If he don’t like the arrangement
of the watches, he can’t help himself; for I am the commander of this
ship.”
“Excuse me, O’Hara, as I am not on duty just now, if I speak to you as
a friend.”
“Certainly, my boy: blaze away! I won’t put you in irons for any thing
you may say now,” added O’Hara curiously; for he had not the least idea
that he had done any thing wrong, or even out of taste.
“Don’t you think it would have been better if you had answered Gregory
and Clinch in a little different way?”
“What do you mane? Wasn’t I civil to them? Didn’t I smile as sweetly
upon them as though they hadn’t raised a ghost of an objection to the
watches?”
“Of course you are the captain, and you were not obliged to make any
explanations; but don’t you think it would have been better if you had
been a little more conciliatory toward Gregory and Clinch, even if they
were a little wrong?” asked Tom.
“Faix, I don’t know: I didn’t think of that,” repeated O’Hara
thoughtfully. “They supposed it was my arrangement they were objecting
to all the time, when it was the orders of the senior vice-principal
himself.”
“So much the worse, if they thought the plan was your own,” added Tom.
“Well, now, I thought it was so much the better!” exclaimed the captain.
“So much the better for you, but so much the worse for Gregory and
Clinch,” continued Tom. “Possibly the first officer thought you ought
to have consulted with him about the arrangement of the watches. All I
mean to say is, that it would have been more magnanimous to have told
Gregory, when he objected, that you were only carrying out the orders
of the vice-principal.”
“Perhaps you are right, Tom, my darling,” added O’Hara, musing.
“It was not in the midst of an emergency, O’Hara; and he did not refuse
to obey orders. If he had, and you had knocked him down, it would have
been all right. It is only fair to let the first and third officers
know, if they object to any thing, that they are kicking against the
senior vice-principal, and not against you,” continued Tom, as sagely
as though he was a fit judge to settle a case between his captain and
an officer above himself.
“That’s all very well; and I think you are right this time, Tom, if you
never were before,” answered O’Hara. “But am I to make a distinction
between the enforcement of my own orders and those of the powers above
me? If I tell the officer of the deck, and it happens to be Gregory or
Clinch, to stop the engine, am I to explain that this is the order of
the senior vice-principal, and not my own? or, if it should be my own,
to argue that it is all right?”
“Certainly not; nothing of the kind! I said in the beginning that this
was a matter of magnanimity, and not of right. Your orders are to be
obeyed without a question on the part of any one on board; not even
Capt. Fairfield or Mr. Shakings having the right to object.”
“I see: I understand you perfectly, Tom, my darlint; and I am much
obliged to you for the trouble you have taken to say all this. Give me
your flipper! I like you betther than ever, if you are a millionnaire;
for it’s a good friend that will point out another’s faults.”
“I don’t point out your faults, O’Hara. I am afraid, if I were the
commander of this steamer, I should be a little ‘airy;’ and I was
dreading lest you might be, though, upon my honor, I haven’t seen any
thing of the kind in you.”
“It’s moighty aisy y’are on me, Tom; and I believe I have been airy;
but, upon my sowl, I’ll never do it again! I like you better than if
you had given me the half of your three millions; and I wish you were
the captain of the steamer, instead of myself.”
“Nonsense, captain! You are ten times as fit to command her as I am;
and I am glad it is as it is.”
“Whisht!”
“Vessel dead ahead!” shouted the lookout, on the jib-boom of the
steamer, where the officer of the deck had sent him when the bell began
to be heard very distinctly on the forecastle of the steamer.
The officer of the deck hastily repeated the cry, and ordered the
quartermaster to put the helm hard down. At the same time he rushed
into the pilot-house, and rang the speed-bell for the engine to “slow
down.”
“Can you make her out?” said the captain, gazing into the dense fog
ahead.
“I don’t see any thing; but we are more than a hundred feet farther
from the vessel than the man on the forecastle.”
“I will go forward, then,” added O’Hara, suiting the action to the
words.
Tom Speers saw Gregory and Clinch come out of the cabin, and follow the
captain forward, and he concluded to remain where he was; for he was
off duty, and he did not care to have the other officers of the steamer
regard him as the adviser of the captain, if the commander asked him
any questions.
The Ville d’Angers slowed down in obedience to the will of the
assistant engineer in charge. If the lookout had been less vigilant,
the steamer would have struck the vessel ahead square on the broadside,
and that would have been the end of her. But Raymond, as the officer
of the deck, was always exceedingly careful; and he had spent most of
his time at the heel of the bowsprit since the position of the craft
was clearly indicated by the sound of the bell. The whistle had been
sounded on the steamer at short intervals; and, as it came nearer, the
bell was rung more vigorously, so that each vessel had a clear idea of
the position of the other.
Gregory and Clinch went forward behind the captain, and they could not
help being considerably excited over the prospect of some sort of an
adventure. But they said nothing to O’Hara; and it was evident from
their actions that they were a little “disgruntled.”
“I believe O’Hara has lost his wits,” said Gregory, in a prudently low
tone. “It beats me to know what he is chasing this vessel for, running
some miles off the course.”
“I suppose he thought that bell belonged to one of the schooners,”
added Clinch.
“It sounds more like one of the bells of the churches of Paris than
it does like the Josephine’s; and he might have known that it did not
belong to one of the schooners,” growled the first officer.
The captain had certainly allowed the Ville d’Angers to continue on
her course to the northward after he and Tom Speers were reasonably
confident that the bell did not indicate the presence of the other
vessels of the fleet. Possibly O’Hara’s curiosity had been excited, and
he wished to see the vessel that rang the heavy bell; but it is more
likely, that, in the conversation which ensued, he had forgotten for
the moment that the vessel ahead could not be either of those for which
he was in search. He desired to satisfy himself, after he had gone so
far to the north,--only a few miles, however,--that the bell was not on
either of the vessels, and that they had not run off in this direction.
By sweeping off a little to the westward, on his return, he might fall
into hearing distance of their bells or horns.
“Do you make her out, Mr. Raymond?” asked O’Hara, as he ascended to the
top-gallant forecastle.
“Distinctly, sir,” replied the officer of the deck.
“What is she?”
“It seems to be a wreck, with a number of persons on board of her. All
her masts have been carried away; she has a square sail rigged on a
jury-mast, and is running before the wind,” added Raymond, as he made
out the details he mentioned.
“I see her now,” continued O’Hara, as he traced the outline of the
vessel through the dense mass of fog which covered the sea.
“We are running by her, sir,” said Raymond. “Shall I stop her?”
“Stop and back her,” replied the captain.
“Ring one bell!” shouted the officer of the deck.
“One bell!” responded the quartermaster in the pilot-house; and he rang
it.
“Ring two bells!” added Raymond.
“Two bells!” repeated the man in charge of the wheel; and, when he rang
them, the screw began to turn backwards.
“Stop her!” said O’Hara, when he judged that her headway was overcome.
“Ring one bell!” added Raymond.
“One bell, sir!” echoed the quartermaster; and the engine stopped.
While this was done on board of the steamer, the hands on the wreck let
go the halyard of the square sail, and it came down on the deck. The
hulk was moving so slowly that it forged only a little ahead of the
Ville d’Angers, leaving her on the weather quarter of the deck. From
the top-gallant forecastle of the steamer, the officers had a tolerably
clear view of the dismasted vessel, which might have been a ship or a
barque, for the stumps of her three masts could be distinctly seen. She
was painted green, and looked like a very old vessel, for her bow was
as stunt-built as the craft of a hundred years ago.
“Hail her, Mr. Raymond, and let us ascertain what we can of her,” said
Capt. O’Hara.
“Ship ahoy!” shouted the officer of the deck, through the
speaking-trumpet which had been supplied by Mr. Fluxion; for this
instrument meant twice as much to him as to any other officer in the
squadron.
“On board the steamer!” replied a man on the deck of the hulk.
“What vessel is that?”
“The ship Castle William, from Calcutta to Portsmouth, with invalid
troops!” yelled the man on the deck of the wreck; and there seemed to
be not more than three men on duty there.
“Tell him we will send a boat on board,” said the captain; and Raymond
repeated the words.
“Don’t do it!” shouted the man earnestly. “We have small-pox and
typhoid-fever on board.”
“Phew! here’s a nice kettle of fish!” exclaimed O’Hara.
“Keep to windward, and come a little nearer!” called the spokesman of
the wreck.
The captain gave the necessary orders to back the Ville d’Angers, and
run up a little nearer to the wreck. Taking the suggestion of the man
on the hulk, he thought there would not be any danger in going to
windward of her.
“Do you hear that, Clinch?” said Gregory, with no little excitement
in his manner. “There is small-pox and typhoid-fever on board of that
wreck; and O’Hara is going to get nearer to her.”
“I don’t like the idea,” added Clinch.
“Capt. O’Hara, I protest against going any nearer to that vessel!” said
Gregory, walking up to the captain, and touching his cap as he spoke.
“She has contagious diseases on board of her; and we shall all take
them.”
“There is no danger, I think, while we keep well to windward of her.
The breeze is pretty fresh, and I don’t believe the disease can travel
up against it,” replied O’Hara, mindful of what had passed between Tom
Speers and himself, though he was at first inclined to make no reply to
the protest.
“I don’t think it is safe: I protest, and insist that the steamer be
put on her course to the Madeiras!” added Gregory, in a very offensive
manner.
“Shall we abandon this wreck, without even ascertaining whether or not
she needs any assistance?” demanded O’Hara, with some indignation in
his tones.
“You need not go any nearer to her, at any rate,” replied Gregory,
somewhat shaken by this argument; for all the students had been
thoroughly schooled in the lesson of humanity, that every sailor was
bound to assist every other sailor in distress.
The captain made no further reply to the first officer. Possibly he did
not run the steamer as near to the wreck, for he directed the course,
as he might have done if Gregory had said nothing.
The Ville d’Angers was stopped on the quarter of the wreck, and at
about half a cable’s length from it.
“How many have you on board?” asked O’Hara, taking the trumpet from the
officer of the deck.
“Thirty-two,” replied the spokesman of the wreck.
“Are you the captain?”
“No; he is down with fever: I am the mate.”
“How many sick have you?”
“All but three men,--myself and two seamen. Five of the crew have died,
and eight are sick.”
It appeared from the answers of the mate, that the Castle William
had left Calcutta with a crew of sixteen, including the officers.
She had in her steerage twenty-one disabled soldiers, among whom the
typhoid-fever had broken out after she left St. Helena, where she had
put in for supplies. At this place she had received a sailor to work
his passage; and, when the ship had been out a week, he was taken down
with the small-pox. They had made a place for him in the head; but five
of the crew had already died with this disease and the fever. Six more
were sick with the fever, and two with the small-pox.
Certainly it was a terrible state of things on board of the wreck,
which had been short-handed, and was thrown on her beam-ends in the
recent gale, or hurricane the mate called it. The three men had cut
away the masts, and this had righted her.