THE WINE-ROOM OF THE VILLE D’ANGERS.
The Ville d’Angers had been under way hardly an hour when the
quartermaster in the pilot-house struck eight bells; and the first
part of the port-watch was called to relieve the second part of the
starboard. Gregory was the officer of this division, as Raymond had
been of the last.
“North, half east,” said Raymond, giving the course to his successor in
charge of the vessel.
“North, half east!” exclaimed Gregory; and though it was his duty to
repeat the course as it was given to him, in order to prevent any
mistake, it was not necessary for him to say it with such a tone of
disgust.
“That’s the course we have been running for the last hour,” replied
Raymond quietly. “The officer of the deck will keep a sharp lookout for
the tow.”
“For the tow?” queried Gregory, as the fourth officer repeated the
orders which were required to be given to his successor in charge of
the deck. “What do you mean by the tow?”
“Of course you are aware that the steamer is towing the hulk of the
Castle William?”
“I was not aware of it,” answered Gregory. “When I turned in at four
bells last night, the steamer was headed to the southward and westward.”
“We returned to the wreck before three, after an unsuccessful search
for the rest of the fleet. We took the Castle William in tow; and
now we are bound for Portsmouth, England. If you were not informed
in regard to the movements of the steamer, I think you were the only
officer on board who was in the dark.”
Gregory and Clinch were jealous of the officers of the Tritonia.
They had begun to object in the first of the cruise, and even before
the steamer was under way. They had kept out of sight of the other
officers, and had avoided the captain as far as they could. Gregory
had been in charge when the steamer started for the south, after the
fog lifted. O’Hara had tried to talk with him; but he was so stiff and
distant that the captain gave it up, and allowed him to live within his
own shell. He had been relieved by Clinch at ten in the evening; and
the third officer was no more inclined to be sociable than the first.
At midnight Speers had been called, and, as soon as he took the
trumpet, the course of the steamer had been changed to the northward
again. In the last half of this watch, when Raymond had the deck, the
wreck had been taken in tow. The captain remained on deck long enough
to ascertain that the Ville d’Angers was making ten knots an hour, with
the ship in tow; and he hoped in the morning to do even better than
this. Thus it turned out that Gregory and Clinch knew nothing of the
destination of the steamer.
Possibly Gregory was as much astonished as he pretended to be, when
Raymond told him the vessel was bound to England. He had certainly
been ugly ever since he came on board. It seemed to him in the
beginning, that O’Hara ignored him in re-organizing the watches, and
especially in not speaking to him about the quarter-watches. But then,
he was looking for a cause of offence; and those who look for it are
sure to find it.
“Though I am the first officer of the steamer, I have not been
consulted about any thing,” replied Gregory, in answer to Raymond’s
remark.
“I do not know that any of the officers have been consulted,” added
Raymond, who did not like the attitude of Gregory.
“I suppose I was ignored because I came from the Josephine. The
Tritonia’s officers seem to be in the ascendant on board of this
vessel,” continued Gregory, in the most forbidding of tones.
“I don’t think it can make any difference what vessel the officers came
from.”
“Tell that to the marines! isn’t the captain hand and glove with
Speers, the second officer? Are they not together all the time they can
be?” demanded the irate watch-officer.
“I think Speers has been consulted no more than you or I have,” replied
Raymond, moving away from the pilot-house; for he saw that it was of
no use to argue the point with one so unreasonable as Gregory showed
himself to be.
“Hold on a minute, Mr. Raymond,” interposed the discontented officer.
“Do you think it is right for the captain to disregard his orders, and
take the steamer to England?”
“The captain can answer that question for himself, and I cannot answer
it for him,” replied Raymond. “All I have to do is to obey my orders.”
“Suppose he should take it into his head to run for the South Sea
Islands on a pleasure-excursion: should you feel it to be your duty to
obey orders without a protest, and go with him?” demanded Gregory.
“The captain is not doing any thing of that sort, and there is no need
of answering conundrums,” replied Raymond warmly. “This is a case of
life and death with thirty-two people on board of the wreck; and it has
been decided by the captain, after consultation with all the adults on
board, to tow the hulk to Portsmouth.”
“But it is a thousand miles to England.”
“It is more than that; but, if it were three thousand, I should obey
orders all the same.”
“I don’t think we are justified in obeying orders under such
circumstances,” continued Gregory. “I think Mr. Fluxion will blame you
and me if we assist in sailing the steamer off on this long voyage,
when the orders were to take the vessel to the Madeiras.”
“Of course you have a right to your own opinion, Mr. Gregory,” added
Raymond coldly. “Good-morning.”
The fourth officer left the pilot-house, where the conversation had
been carried on in the presence of the quartermaster and the seaman who
were steering the steamer. He was sorry he had listened so long to the
malecontent; and, as he walked aft, he debated with himself whether
or not he ought to wake the captain, and inform him of the mutinous
sentiments uttered by the first officer. But Gregory had taken the
trumpet, and had not yet declined to obey the orders of the captain as
transmitted to him by his predecessor in charge; and he concluded to
say nothing that might place him in the position of a tale-bearer. He
turned in; but, as he had had his full six hours of sleep, he lay awake
thinking of what Gregory had said to him.
Gregory wanted to do something; and, by diligent thinking, he had fully
persuaded himself that the course taken by Capt. O’Hara was all wrong.
In the first place, he was exposing the ship’s company to the perils
of contagion; and, in the second, he was disregarding his orders to
take the steamer to Madeira in the event that she should part company
with the schooners. He concluded that these were the orders, though he
had not heard the senior vice-principal give the instructions to the
commander of the steamer.
“I think you are quite right, Mr. Gregory,” said the quartermaster at
the wheel, after Raymond had gone. “If the truth were known, Capt.
Fairfield is of the same mind. I know the fellows from the Josephine
don’t like the idea of breathing the air from that floating hospital
for the next week or ten days; nor of going off on a cruise two or
three weeks, wherever Mr. O’Hara or the Tritonia chooses to take them.”
Gregory listened to this long speech without saying a word. The
sentiments were his own; but they were mutinous in their nature, and he
ought to have reproved the quartermaster for speaking to his superior
officer in such terms of the captain.
“How were we going when the log was heaved last?” asked the first
officer, taking no notice of the speech of the man at the wheel.
“Ten and a half, sir,” replied Stokes.
Gregory went aft, calling for the watch on the forecastle to follow
him, and heaved the log. To his astonishment, the Ville d’Angers was
making eleven knots. The firemen were evidently doing their best. He
had heard Mr. Frisbone say that the steamer would make fifteen knots
under favorable circumstances, and that she had done it most of the
time before the collision. At this rate she would be in Portsmouth in
five days. He looked at the hulk astern, and saw that she carried the
square sail she had rigged on the jury-mast, and the wind was fresh
enough to help her along a knot or two an hour.
Gregory examined the tow-line, as he had been instructed to do, and
found it all right so far as he was able to judge. When he had complied
so far with the routine of the vessel and with his orders, he went
forward to the engine-room. Alexander was on duty there; and he was
the only one of the Tritonia’s ship’s company on the watch in charge
of the steamer. Mr. Fluxion and Mr. Pelham had agreed that officers
and seamen from each vessel should be in the same watch, so far as
it was practicable; and this arrangement would remove any possible
danger of quarrelling and disagreement among the students from the
different craft. This had been done; but the rule could not be applied
to the engineers, for both of them belonged to the Tritonia. But the
“greasers,” one from each quarter, belonged to the regular watch.
“Good-morning, Mr. Gregory,” said the chief engineer, with a yawn, as
the first officer stepped into the engine-room.
“Good-morning, Mr. Alexander,” replied Gregory coldly, as he invariably
spoke to all the officers of the Tritonia. “You have on a big head of
steam.”
“The firemen have done very well since I came on watch,” answered the
engineer, with another yawn.
He had not been careful to improve all his opportunities for sleep, as
a sailor should, and as the students had learned to do when on regular
duty, and had not turned in till after ten o’clock in the evening; and
he had been called at twelve. In the force of engineers the steamer was
short-handed; and the watch was changed at six and twelve, night and
day; and this bill had been adopted at the request of the engineers
themselves, so that they could find no fault with it.
“We are making eleven knots; and that’s high speed for a steamer towing
a six-hundred-ton ship,” added Gregory, who was really sorry to find
the engine doing so well.
“So much the sooner this voyage will be over,” answered Alexander; and
then he yawned again, for he had not slept more than those two hours
out of the last twenty-four.
“Why, don’t you like it?” asked Gregory, not a little astonished to
hear a Tritonian express even a hint of being dissatisfied.
“I can’t say I do,” replied Alexander, with a heavy gape; “at least, I
have had about enough of it, as the thing is going now. A fellow can’t
stand it without his sleep. I have to keep my eye on that gauge all the
time; and it is with the utmost difficulty that I can keep my peepers
open.”
Alexander gaped again, and Gregory seated himself by his side.
“It is rather rough on you to serve these six-hour watches,” added the
first officer.
“I shouldn’t have minded it for a short cruise; but I didn’t ship as an
engineer for a trip to England and back.”
“I suppose Richards likes it, don’t he?” Gregory proceeded, anxious to
obtain more information in regard to the sentiments of the engineers.
“He is more discontented than I am. He is growling all the time; and
he was downright mad when he learned that the recitations were to
be carried on to-morrow, just as they are in all the vessels of the
squadron. I shall be in a pretty condition to study my lessons, after
this watch is finished. I shall turn in as soon as I get my breakfast,
and sleep till noon, when I have to take my place in the engine-room
again. How am I to keep up with the class, and run this machine twelve
hours a day?”
“You can’t do it, of course.”
“No more can Richards. He came within one of slipping out of the cabin
on the first of the month, when Speers came in from the steerage; and
he wants to make his election sure next time.”
“It is a hard case for both of you. But I suppose you volunteered for
this duty?”
“Richards and I were the only fellows who knew any thing about an
engine, and we were really forced to volunteer,” yawned Alexander. “I
wish we were on our way to Madeira, instead of on a trip to England.”
“What is the matter with these fellows down in the fire-room?” asked
Gregory, whose attention had been attracted several times during the
conversation, by the singing and laughing of the men at the fires.
“They seem to be very jolly to-night for some reason or other,” replied
the engineer, gaping fearfully as his drowsiness gained upon him.
The first officer wondered why the men were so jolly at that early hour
in the morning; and to satisfy himself he went down into the fire-room.
After he had taken a few steps upon the iron stairs, he saw one of the
Frenchmen strike off the neck of a bottle with a bar of iron. He poured
the contents of the bottle into several tin cups, and passed them to
his companions, retaining one for himself. The liquid was very red;
and the officer had no doubt it was claret wine, such as is usually
furnished to the passengers on board of French steamers.
The men drank off the contents of the tin cups, and then began to sing
with renewed energy. It was the quantity of wine they had drank, which
made the men so jolly. He was confident that it had not been furnished
by the officers or the stewards; and it was plain enough that the
foreigners had found it in the hold of the vessel.
Gregory spoke French well enough to do his part in carrying on an
ordinary conversation in that language; and, descending into the
fire-room, he asked the Frenchmen where they had obtained the wine. The
men had drank too much to be disturbed by any common event; and they
all laughed heartily at the question. The three Frenchmen were on duty,
and Pierre spoke for them.
“You are not the captain?” said he, looking the first officer over from
head to foot.
“No: I am the officer of the deck,” replied Gregory.
“Plenty of wine in this vessel,” said Pierre, laughing again as though
he was the happiest mortal in existence.
The other two men threw open the furnace-doors, and began to shovel in
the coal at a furious rate. But the officer observed that they kept
an eye on the draughts, and used all the precautions against fire or
injury to the boilers, doubtless doing so from the sheer force of habit.
“Where did you get the wine?” repeated Gregory, as the fellow did not
answer him.
“Very good wine!” exclaimed Pierre, taking another bottle from one of
the coal-bunkers, and breaking off the neck as he had done before. “Try
some of it;” and he handed the bottle to the officer.
The first officer of the Ville d’Angers, though he had been a good
seaman and a good scholar for a considerable time, was not one of the
“chaplain’s lambs,” as the good boys were called by the bad ones. He
had no conscientious or other scruples against drinking a glass of
wine, or even a bottle, as he had done when the eyes of the professors
were not upon him.
Gregory took the bottle; but he was not inclined to drink out of the
dirty tin cup of the firemen, or to cut his lips with the glass of the
broken bottle. The fireman saw his difficulty, and then disappeared for
a moment, returning with a clean tumbler, which he had evidently taken
from the mess-room forward of the engine on deck. He handed it to the
officer with the greatest show of deference and politeness. Gregory
filled the glass, and drank it off, though it was a heavy dram for a
young man of his years.
“Where did you get it?” asked the officer.
Instead of answering the question, Pierre took a lantern which hung at
the entrance of the port bunker, and led the way along the machinery of
the engine to a small door which opened into the after-hold. On each
side of the engine was a store-room; and Pierre took a key from his
pocket, and opened one of them. Gregory saw that it was the wine-room
of the steamer. Upon skids on the floor were several casks; and above
them were bins filled with bottles containing “vin ordinaire,” or
common claret. On the other side were more bins, filled with other
kinds of wine.
“Plenty of wine,” said Pierre, as he pointed with entire satisfaction
to the display of bottles. “This is the best;” and he took one from the
bin he pointed at.
Gregory read the label on the bottle, and understood the matter well
enough to realize that it was a kind of Burgundy, much stronger than
claret. He took a couple of the bottles from the bin, and put them in
the pockets of his pea-jacket.
“Give me that key, Pierre,” said Gregory.
“No! no! no!” protested the Frenchman, with the greatest earnestness.
Certainly Pierre had given his confidence to the officer without any
reserve; but he had done so only after he had partaken of the wine
offered him. Whether Pierre had any Arabian notions about hospitality,
and believed that Gregory could not betray him after drinking out
of the same bottle; or whether he thought that the officer could not
misuse his secret after he had shared in the guilt by partaking of the
stolen fruit, or the juice of it,--or not,--cannot be imagined; but he
seemed to be as free with his officer as though he had been one of his
companions in the fire-room.
But Pierre had an opinion of his own in regard to the key; and he
positively refused to give it up. Gregory began to feel the effects of
the strong Burgundy in his head, for he could not carry off a whole
tumbler of it without being fearfully shaken in his upper works. He
felt the need of fresh air; for the hold was hot from the furnaces.
He tottered back by the way he had come, followed by Pierre, who was
evidently assured that he had made a friend of the first officer of
the steamer, and that was almost as good as securing an alliance with
the captain. The Frenchman assisted the officer of the deck out of the
hold, for his steps were becoming more and more unsteady as the fumes
of the wine rose in his head.
“What is the row down in the fire-room?” asked Alexander, as the tipsy
officer appeared in the engine-room.
“Nothing particular,” replied Gregory, trying to stiffen the tones of
his voice, which he could not help realizing were very shaky. “The
Frenchmen feel good, and that makes them sing and talk loud; but they
are so far from the cabin that they can’t be heard, and won’t disturb
any one. Do you know whether there is any wine on board?” asked Gregory.
“I don’t think there is; but I wish there were some, for I think a
little of it would wake me up,” replied Alexander.
“Wait a minute, then,” added the first officer as he stepped out of the
engine-room, and went to the mess-room, where a lunch was kept on the
table for the benefit of the officers and seamen of the watch. Drawing
the cork of one of the bottles, and taking a tumbler from the table,
he hastened back to the engine-room as fast as his shaky legs would
permit, and poured out a glass of the rich Burgundy, and offered it to
the chief engineer.
“What’s this?” asked Alexander, taking the glass.
“You said you wished there was some wine on board, and that a little of
it would wake you up,” added Gregory. “Here it is;” and he spilled a
part of it on the floor as the steamer gave a smart roll.
Alexander took the glass, though he had some serious doubts about
drinking it. He had very rarely drank wine; he very rarely had a chance
to drink it; but if it would wake the firemen, as the noise indicated
that it did,--for he was not so stupid as not to understand what
produced the unusual hilarity when Gregory came out of the fire-room,
and offered him a glass of wine,--it would have the same effect on him.
Still he hesitated till one of his longest gapes had nearly choked him;
and then he drank off the contents of the glass.
“Now we are in for it together!” exclaimed Gregory, when the engineer
had tipped off the red draught.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Alexander, who did not exactly
like the words, or the chuckle that accompanied them.
“Give us your hand, Mr. Alexander! we are friends now, if you do
belong to the Tritonia,” said the malecontent, with a laugh, for the
liquor was beginning to make him a little excitable.
The engineer could not well refuse his hand, and he gave it to the
jolly officer of the deck. Gregory left the engine-room, and went to
the mess-room. It was lighted, and he found a hiding-place for the
two bottles of wine. He walked about the deck in the fresh air of the
night; and he felt happy and contented for the time, and not at all
inclined to foment a mutiny. When four bells were struck, and Clinch
reported to him to relieve the deck, he let him into the secret, and
gave him a tumbler of the Burgundy. He took another at the same time,
and turned in without waiting to observe the effect upon the third
officer.