THE SPRIGS OF NOBILITY.
Every thing went well with the vessel and her management. The officers
and seamen were faithful and attentive to their duty, so far as those
in charge could discover. The weather was all that could be desired;
and the Ville d’Angers logged from twelve to fifteen knots an hour. The
quarter-watches were amply sufficient for the duty of the ship, and the
four engineers made it easy work for Alexander and Richards.
The Prince had superintended the provisioning of the steamer, and he
had done it in the most lavish manner. The fare was better than that
furnished on the vessels of the squadron, good as that was; and the
students could not help speaking of the fact.
“We fare better than I ever did at the best hotels in Europe,” said
O’Hara, when they were seated at dinner.
“You deserve good feed,” said the Prince, laughing. “This has been a
big expedition we undertook. I was figuring it up before we sailed; and
I found we had made twenty-eight hundred pounds, besides the value of
the Dangers.”
“Besides what?” demanded Mrs. Frisbone.
“The Dangers. Don’t you know the name of the steamer you sail in, the
Yankee ship with the Yankee crew?” answered the Prince, who pronounced
French as it was written, in spite of the frequent admonitions of his
educated wife.
“The Ville d’Angers,” added the lady, pronouncing correctly the name of
the steamer.
“I should have to have my tongue split like a crow, before I could say
that; and I don’t mean to try. The Dangers suits me better,” retorted
the Prince good-naturedly. “We were in a good many dangers while we
were in her at first; and that’s the best name in the world for her. I
was saying I had twenty-eight hundred pounds, besides the Dangers, all
made out of this cruise to the nor’ard; and, as the young gentlemen
have done all the work, I was determined that they should live like
fighting-cocks while I had any thing to do with them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Frisbone,” added O’Hara. “I think we are all in
condition to appreciate good living. What are you going to do with this
steamer after you have returned us all to the vessels of the squadron?”
“That will be for the principal to say. The steamer belongs to him, and
not to me; for it was one of his squadron that picked her up,” replied
the Prince. “I think he had better use her as one of the vessels of his
fleet, and sell out his sailing-vessels. It won’t be many years before
sails, except with steam, will go out of fashion.”
“She will accommodate as many as the two schooners, after she has been
fitted up for the purpose,” continued the captain. “She is nearly as
fast as the Prince; and, if we had been in her when we left Gibraltar,
we should have sailed with her.”
“Upon my word, I should have liked to be a student in such a vessel
when I was a youngster,” said Sir Philip Grayner, who sat at the table
about opposite the state-room of Gregory.
“You are not much more than a youngster now,” added the Prince,
laughing at the cool way of the baronet.
“I am two and twenty,” replied Sir Philip.
“Then you are not much more than a year older than Mr. Speers, the
second officer; and he is a millionnaire at that.”
“A millionnaire!” exclaimed the baronet.
“Please not mention that, Mr. Frisbone,” interposed Tom, blushing.
“It isn’t your fault, my boy; and I don’t blame you for it,” added the
Prince. “He is more than that, Sir Philip: he is a three-millionnaire.”
Tom’s secret had come out in spite of the vigilance with which he had
guarded it. The sprigs of nobility made themselves very intimate with
him; and all the students wanted to know about it, for most of them
could recollect how careful he was of the small store of money he
possessed.
“A millionnaire, is he?” said Gregory, in the state-room, for the
open-work above the door enabled him to hear every word that was said
in that part of the cabin. “And he is a great crony with O’Hara.”
“I should like to get in with such a fellow,” replied Clinch. “But what
are we going to do with ourselves? I have had about enough of this
life in a state-room.”
“So have I, to be entirely candid,” added Gregory. “The fellows are
having a magnificent time, and we are here under lock and key.”
“Are you going to back down?”
“There are two kinds of back-downs; and it makes some difference which
one you mean. I am not going to kiss O’Hara’s great toe, or any thing
of that sort; but I am willing to come down a little for the sake of
getting out of this scrape.”
“All right. Tell the steward that we want to see the captain; and you
needn’t be so unutterably grand as you were the last time you saw him,”
replied Clinch.
“I meant to treat him with proper contempt; and, if I ever get hold of
him, I shall be even with him in some way,” blustered Gregory.
“That’s all gas!” exclaimed Clinch, who was rather disgusted with the
lofty ways of his companion in rebellion. “What’s the use of talking
in that way? O’Hara has the weather-gauge of you, and you can’t do any
thing.”
“I know I can’t now, while he has Shakings to fight his battles for
him,” growled Gregory.
“He does just as the principal and the vice-principals do: they never
touch a fellow with their own hands; they called on the boatswains.”
“If the boatswain had been out of the way, I would have made an end of
O’Hara’s reign. I am sure I could have got about all the fellows from
the Josephine to join our party.”
“So much the bigger fool you, for standing out before you had said any
thing to the fellows. Even Stokes backed square down when it came to
the scratch.”
“I was feeling very badly when I did it. That Burgundy did not agree
with me; it made me as cross and sour as a baby at midnight. I did not
intend to do any thing till the moment came when I did it.”
“It is no use of grumbling about what is past and gone. We are in the
scrape; and the question is, how shall we get out of it?” said Clinch,
somewhat softened by the confession of his friend.
Gregory told how he intended to manage the matter when the steamer
was given up; but this plan had been spoiled by the purchase of the
vessel. The one thing he dreaded was being returned to the Josephine.
He was conscious that he had been guilty of gross disobedience and
insubordination. He had no confidence whatever in the excuse he
had offered, that O’Hara was running away with the steamer, and
disregarding the instructions of the senior vice-principal. This plea
was only an excuse for rebelling against the authority of the captain;
and he was sure it would not be accepted by Mr. Fluxion. The voyage to
England had been a decided success; and the enterprise had been fully
indorsed by all the adults on board.
It was the feeling that he had been snubbed by O’Hara, that the captain
had not “made enough” of him, which had excited his wrath. He had
come on board of the Ville d’Angers with the expectation that the
voyage was to be a sort of pleasure-excursion; and the recitations and
the quarter-watches, which practically transferred the work and the
discipline of the squadron to the steamer, were exceedingly distasteful
to him. But the Burgundy was responsible for his mutinous conduct; and
without that he might have got along with the minor difficulty in his
path.
He could not tolerate the idea of returning to the Josephine, and
taking the penalty of his misconduct. He was ready to resort to the
most desperate expedient to avoid the merited punishment. Since the
sale of the vessel, he had been cudgelling his brain to devise the
plan. He had hoped to become the captain of the Josephine in due time;
but now he had given up the idea: the Burgundy had robbed him of all
his expectations in connection with the academy squadron. He must get
away, and keep away from it.
Clinch listened to all this long story, and confessed that he was in
the same boat as his companion. But his father was not a rich man; and
he could not cruise all over the world, for the want of the means. But
Gregory declared that he had money enough to take them both around the
world; and, as long as his friend would stick by him, he should want
for nothing. Whatever they did, they were to stick together.
At supper-time Gregory, who did all the planning and scheming, had not
settled upon any course of action. The officers of one watch and the
passengers were at the table in the cabin. The prisoners, whose time
hung heavily on their hands, listened attentively at the doors of their
rooms to the conversation. Gregory heard the voice which he believed he
had heard before, as he told Clinch. It sounded even more familiar than
at dinner.
“You are going off on your travels, I suppose,” said the Prince.
“No, sir: I am going to Funchal on a bit of a lark,” replied the person
with the well-known voice. “I have long wanted to go there; but I
could not get away from the university till this spring. I am through
with schools for the rest of my lifetime; and now I am going to enjoy
myself, if I can.”
“Are you going to stop long in Madeira, Sir Philip?” asked the Prince.
“Sir Philip!” exclaimed Gregory to himself; and this was the first time
he had heard the name of either of the passengers.
“Only till I get tired of the island. It may be a week, or a month,”
added the baronet.
“Where are you going then?” inquired the Prince.
“I haven’t the least idea. I am opposed to laying out a pleasure-excursion
in advance.”
“We shall go wherever it suits our fancy to go when we have done the
island,” added Lord Fillgrove.
“Lord Fillgrove and I are perfectly agreed on this trip,” said Sir
Philip. “We were in the university together, and we have considered the
matter for years.”
“Lord Fillgrove!” exclaimed Gregory, as he heard the name of the other
passenger.
He listened to the conversation till the close of supper; and, after
the steward had given him his evening meal, he opened communication
with his fellow-prisoner.
“Did you hear the names of the two passengers, Clinch?” he asked, when
his friend had placed his ear at the opening in the partition.
“I did: one is a lord, and the other is a sir,” replied Clinch.
“Sir Philip Grayner is my cousin; and I had the biggest lark with him I
ever had in my life. It was before I joined the squadron, when I went
over to England with my father on a visit.”
“Who’s the other fellow?”
“He is a friend of my cousin; and I met him in Lancaster when I was
there. He is the eldest son of an earl; and I believe they call him a
viscount. He is addressed as Lord Fillgrove.”
“Do they know you are on board?” asked Clinch, much interested in the
information conveyed to him.
“I don’t know: I don’t suppose they do. But we must get out of this
place as soon as we can; and I know my cousin will help us all he can.”
“It is easy enough to say, get out; but how will you do it?”
“We must back down,--come clear down,” replied Gregory earnestly.
“That don’t sound like you, Dave,” added Clinch.
“Of course you know what I mean,” continued the chief mutineer,
apparently annoyed at the remark of his friend. “We are not going to
become chaplain’s lambs, or any thing of that sort.”
“But you must go down on your knees to Capt. O’Hara, the mighty one,
who is the supreme authority on board of the Ville d’Angers,” answered
Clinch, in a contemptuous tone.
“I will even do that, if it is necessary,” added Gregory.
“I won’t!” exclaimed Clinch.
“Don’t be a fool! we must get out of these state-rooms; and that’s the
only way to do it. But I don’t think O’Hara will be very hard on us.
Of course he won’t attempt to punish us. He has offered us the freedom
of the deck under the eye of the boatswain; and we must accept that,
if we can’t get any thing better. I want to be where I can have a talk
with my cousin. I don’t expect O’Hara will restore us to our positions
as first and third officers, for those places are now filled by fellows
from the Josephine. All I want is to get out of this state-room: don’t
you see?”
“I see; but I don’t want to go down on my knees to a fellow from the
Tritonia. I will do any thing you say; and I can stand it if you can.”
“I can stand it well enough when the thing is done for a purpose,”
replied Gregory very cheerfully. “I will do the talking when we are
before the mighty Capt. O’Hara. Leave it to me.”
Clinch was entirely willing to leave it to his friend.
“I have been figuring things up a little since the steamer sailed,”
continued Gregory. “What day of the month is this, Clinch?”
“The 21st: I heard one of the fellows at the table say so at dinner,”
replied Clinch.
“Good! then we shall not get to Funchal till the 26th or 27th. At that
time the squadron will have been out over a fortnight, nearly three
weeks. I have no idea that Mr. Lowington will stay in Funchal so long,”
argued Gregory. “He will start the fleet for the Western Islands, or
wherever he is going next, and leave orders there for the absentees to
follow him.”
“That may be; and you think he will be gone when we get there?” mused
Clinch.
“I am almost sure of it. He will get news by the regular steamer from
the Ville d’Angers; and he won’t wait for her. When we reach Madeira,
we must get away from the vessel. I am sure my cousin will help us out;
and we will join them on their trip.”
This was entirely satisfactory to Clinch; and, as soon as he saw the
bearing of the “back-down,” he was willing even to kiss O’Hara’s toe in
order to forward the plan.
Gregory was an inventive genius; and, before the first half of the
last dog-watch had expired, he had improved upon his plan, and decided
to put it in operation at once. He was so impatient that he was not
willing to wait till the next day. He did not feel quite as well as
usual; and he really wished he was a little sicker than he was. This
suggested a way to get at the captain at once. He could easily make
himself a little sicker than he was. He had formerly been subject to
a certain kind of headache; and he carried in his bag a medicine the
family physician had given him before he left home. It always produced
nausea to a considerable degree. He took a dose of it; and in a short
time he was sick in real earnest. Possibly his confinement in his room
had made him more susceptible to nausea.
He knocked loudly on his door; and, when the steward came to inquire
what he wanted, he stated that he was sick, and desired to go on
deck. The captain was consulted, and the order was promptly given for
Shakings to conduct him to the deck. The acting head steward offered
his services, and he received every attention his case required. When
Mrs. Frisbone heard that he was ill, she went to him.
“I have been feeling badly for some time; and I took some medicine
which our family doctor gave me,” said the sufferer.
“I think it is quite enough to make one sick, to be shut up in that
state-room as you have been, Mr. Gregory,” replied the lady, when she
had examined into the condition of the invalid.
“I am generally very well, and I have not had occasion to take any of
this medicine for a long time,” added Gregory.
Mrs. Frisbone spoke to the captain about the case, and expressed her
opinion in regard to it.
“I have several times offered to let him go on deck for an hour or two,
and he has refused to do so,” replied O’Hara.
“Certainly it was his own fault that he has not had any more air and
exercise,” added the lady.
“I am willing to go still farther,” continued O’Hara, who did not wish
to injure the health of any student, however guilty he might be. “I
will see him in the morning, and will endeavor to give both Gregory and
Clinch more liberty than they have had, and without the assistance of
the boatswain, for they refused the offer because Shakings was to have
charge of them.”
The patient was permitted to stay on deck as long as he pleased; but he
did not see Sir Philip Grayner, who was playing whist in the cabin with
the Prince and the ladies. When he went to his room, and was locked in
as usual, he told Clinch what he had been about.
At eight bells the next morning, O’Hara sent for the two prisoners, and
they were brought into the cabin by the boatswain. Both of the “sprigs”
were there; and Sir Philip looked him fairly in the eye, but made no
sign whatever that he knew him, or had ever seen him. Gregory thought
it very strange that his cousin did not recognize him, especially when
Capt. O’Hara called him by name.
“I hope you are better this morning, Mr. Gregory,” said O’Hara; and he
expected a rude, if not an insulting reply.
“I am much better, I thank you, Capt. O’Hara,” answered the prisoner.
“I wish to say that I am sick, and I can’t stand it to be locked up in
that room, now that the port has to be closed.”
Gregory spoke in a respectful tone; and O’Hara could not but notice the
change in his manner.
“I am very sorry that it became necessary to confine you to your room;
but I have tried to have you take air and exercise,” added O’Hara. “I
understand you to object to the attendance of Mr. Shakings.”
“I did object; but I do not now. I am willing to do any thing you deem
proper, and to confess”--
“I shall not try your case, Mr. Gregory; and it is quite unnecessary
for you to make any acknowledgments to me,” interposed the captain. “I
have a proposition to make to you and Mr. Clinch, which I hope will not
be considered humiliating. Both of you shall have the liberty of the
vessel, provided you will promise not to speak to any officer or seaman
of the steamer.”
“It is a very liberal offer; and I am much obliged to you for it,
captain. I thankfully accept the proposition, and promise not to speak
to any officer or seaman of the vessel,” replied Gregory.
“I will do the same,” added Clinch.
“I will modify the condition so far as to provide that you hold no
private conversation with the officers and seamen. I do not wish to
prevent you from speaking on the ordinary topics of the day. You will
take your meals with the officers in the cabin; and you are free to
talk as much as you please at the table.”
“Thank you, captain,” replied Gregory meekly.
“Sir Philip, this is Mr. Gregory,” said the captain, as the young
baronet was about to pass them.
“Mr. Gregory, I am happy to make your acquaintance,” replied Sir Philip
with no sign of recognition; and the baronet passed out of the cabin.
Gregory was utterly confounded at the conduct of his cousin. The
captain soon after presented Lord Fillgrove, whom the ex-first officer
had met not more than two years before; but he was as innocent of all
knowledge of him as his cousin had been. Neither of them seemed to be
inclined to cultivate his acquaintance, perhaps because he was under a
cloud just then. After breakfast Gregory went on deck, where he met the
“sprigs” again.
“You don’t know me, do you, Phil?” demanded Gregory, with considerable
indignation in his tones.
“Of course I know you, Dave,” replied Sir Philip coldly, as he looked
about him to ascertain what officers were in sight. But none were on
the poop-deck; for all of them not on duty were attending to their
studies.
“You seem to be as stiff as though you were not glad to see me,” added
Gregory.
“I came on board of this ship on purpose to get you out of this scrape,
and I will do it yet; but we had better seem not to know each other
very well,” replied Sir Philip, gazing at the blue sky above him. “Wait
till we get to Funchal. I want you to go with Fillgrove and me on an
excursion of a year or two.”
“All right, Phil. I thought by your actions that you intended to cut
me,” added Gregory, seeing the wisdom of his cousin’s precaution. “I
want to get out of the academy squadron.”
“You shall; and we will have a bigger lark than we did when you were in
England before.”
“That was a large time,” said Gregory, recalling with pleasure the
“spree,” for that was what it was.
“I met a fellow by the name of Stokes in Southampton, who belonged
to the ship; and I asked him about you. He told me you were kept a
prisoner in your state-room because you wouldn’t kiss the captain’s
great toe; and I am here to attend to your case,” continued the
baronet, still looking at the sky. “But let us be any thing but
friends.”
Gregory assented; but during the rest of the voyage he had some long
talks with him. In four days more, the Ville d’Angers arrived at
Funchal,--on the morning of the 27th; but the fleet was not there.