FEATHERS AND THE ENGINEER.
Major Tommy Toppleton and Company B were prisoners in the little cabin,
while Major Waddie Wimpleton and Companies A and B of his battalion
were in possession of the steamer. The wheels had stopped, and this was
evidence to us in the wheel-house that Forbush, the engineer, had been
driven from his post.
“This will never do,” said Captain Underwood. “The young rascals will
blow us all up. They have stopped the engine, and have not let off
steam.”
Though it was really becoming quite a serious matter, I saw that the
captain could hardly keep from laughing, there was something so absurd
in the situation. Major Waddie, in his chapeau and gold lace, strutted
before us on the forward deck, and we had regarded the whole affair as
a joke; but now we were actually in the toils of the captors. They
had not yet disturbed the occupants of the wheel-house; but this step
had only been deferred till the other parts of the boat were made
secure. The Toppletonians had all been locked up in the cabin, and the
engine-room, the citadel of the boat, had yielded.
“It is time something was done,” I replied to the captain. “I have been
opposed to a fight, but I think one is necessary about this time.”
“What shall we do?”
“That’s the question. The Wimpletonians are armed with ugly weapons,” I
added. “There are three of us besides Forbush. I see the victors have
neglected to secure the captured arms on the forward deck. We can jump
down, arm ourselves, and fight it out.”
“But there are nearly a hundred of the rascals,” answered Captain
Underwood. “Some of them are pretty well grown, and all of them have
been exercised with the bayonet. I don’t relish having one of those
things stuck into me, and I shouldn’t dare to punch any boy with such
an ugly iron. I think I would rather do what fighting I do without any
bayonet.”
The captain was a very prudent man, certainly; and I was aware how
dangerous it would be to injure one of the Wimpletonians. They were
reckless; we were cautious, and fearful of hurting them; so that they
had every advantage over us, besides that of mere numbers. While we
were debating the question, Forbush appeared on the forward deck.
One of his hands was covered with blood, and it was plain he had not
abandoned his post without an attempt to retain it.
“Captain Underwood, they have driven me out of the engine-room at the
point of the bayonet,” said the engineer, holding up his bloody hand.
“Come up here,” replied the captain.
“We have a good head of steam on, and the engine needs some one to look
out for it.”
“Go and fix it as it ought to be!” said the imperious Major Waddie, as
he stalked up to the engineer with his drawn sword in his hand.
“If there were no one but you on board, I would blow you so high you
would never come down again,” added Forbush, as he glanced at his
wounded hand.
“None of your impudence, but do as I tell you,” puffed Waddie.
“Look out for the engine, Forbush,” added the captain; “and speak to
the fireman.”
Forbush went to the engine, and presently the sound of the steam
hissing through the escape pipe assured us the peril of an explosion
was provided for. The engineer, having attended to this duty, appeared
upon the forward deck again. He was not a very demonstrative man, but I
could see that he was nursing his wrath under the imperious manner of
Waddie. Passing through the Wimpletonians, he went to the bow of the
boat.
“Major, there is Wolf Penniman in the wheel-house,” said Dick Bayard,
as he discovered me at one of the windows.
“We’ll fix him in due time,” replied Waddie, as he glanced up at me
with an ugly look, which assured me I had nothing to hope for from his
magnanimity. “We must get rid of those fellows in the cabin next.”
“Well, what are you going to do with them?” asked Captain Ben Pinkerton.
“Land them in some out-of-the-way place on the east shore, where it
will take them all day to get home again,” suggested Captain Dick
Bayard.
“Where?” inquired Major Waddie, apparently pleased with the idea.
“At the point off the North Shoe, for instance,” replied Bayard.
“That’s the plan!” exclaimed the major, as he sheathed his glittering
blade, apparently satisfied that the battle was finished. “Wolf
Penniman, come down here!” he added; turning to me again.
“No, I thank you,” I replied, cheerfully.
“If you want to get out of this scrape with a whole skin, you had
better mind what I tell you,” continued Waddie, involuntarily putting
his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“I think I can best keep a whole skin up here,” I answered.
“Better go down,” interposed the captain. “Moses and I will go with
you.”
Moses was one of the deck hands, who had been steering when the
capture was made. There were two more of them, besides the fireman
below, making seven men on board.
“Very well; if you think best I will go down,” I replied.
“We had better keep together,” he added.
I led the way down the ladder, and as the captain followed me, he
beckoned to the deck hands to keep near us.
“You have concluded to mind--have you?” sneered Waddie, as I presented
myself before his imperial majorship.
“I concluded to come down,” I answered.
“Wolf, you will go to the engine-room, and mind the bells,” he
continued.
“Mr. Forbush is the engineer of this boat,” I replied.
“No matter if he is; you will do as I tell you, or take the
consequences.”
“Then I will take the consequences,” I answered, for I had no intention
of helping the Wimpletonians land their conquered foe on the North
Point.
“Here! form around him! Charge bayonets! Drive him into the
engine-room!” said Waddie, smartly.
Instead of waiting for this programme to be carried out, I walked
forward to the extreme point of the bow, where the engineer had taken
position. I was not quite sure that I could successfully resist the
order; but it was not in my nature to obey the haughty commands of
Major Waddie.
“That’s right!” said Forbush, as I joined him. “I’m glad to see a
little grit.”
Captain Underwood and the three deck hands followed me; but Waddie drew
his sword, and, filled with rage, crowded through them towards me.
“Wolf, I command this boat now, and I order you to the engine-room,”
fumed the major, as he pointed his sword at me, as though he intended
to run me through; and I am not sure that such was not his purpose.
Forbush’s patience appeared to be exhausted, and before I had time to
make any reply, he suddenly sprang upon Waddie, wrenched the sword from
his grasp, and, seizing him by the collar, jammed him against the rail
with so much force, that the bantam major howled with pain and terror.
The dignity of his military position was knocked out of him, and the
glory of the chapeau, feathers, and gold lace departed.
“Look out for the rest of them!” called Forbush.
I picked up one of the guns which the captors had thrown one side, and
the three deck hands followed my example. Captain Underwood, still true
to his humane philosophy, took a handspike. But the sudden movement of
the engineer seemed to paralyze the valiant soldiers for the moment,
as they paused to see what the grimy Forbush intended to do with their
leader.
“Rally! rally!” shouted Captain Bayard, who, now that the major was
_hors de combat_, was the ranking officer. “Charge bayonets!”
“You keep back!” replied Forbush. “If one of you takes a single step
forward, I will throw this fellow overboard;” and he jammed poor Waddie
against the rail again, until we could almost hear his bones crack.
“Don’t! don’t!” groaned Waddie. “Keep the fellows back, Dick Bayard, or
he will kill me!”
“That’s so,” replied the stout engineer, who did not weigh less than
one hundred and eighty, and was six feet high.
By this time the four men and myself were drawn up in line of battle.
It was clear enough to the Wimpletonians that, if the action began,
there would be some broken heads, if not bleeding bodies. However
lightly they regarded bayonet wounds when the weapons were in their
own hands only, they seemed to have a great respect for the cold steel
in the hands of others. They formed their line in the act of charging
bayonets; but they did not charge any. There they stood, arrested by
the plaintive cry of their gallant leader.
“Now, come out here, Feathers!” said Forbush, as he took Waddie by the
collar, besmearing the major’s face with blood from his wounded hand,
and trotting him up to the line. “Come up here again, and take command!
Order these cubs upon the hurricane deck, or I will make short work of
you!”
The engineer emphasized his commands by shaking Waddie most
unmercifully.
“You let me alone!” howled the discomfited commander of the battalion.
“I’ll let you alone when I have done with you,” added Forbush, as he
twisted his gripe upon the collar of his victim, so as almost to choke
him.
“You’ll kill me!” gasped Waddie.
“Will you give the order I told you?”
“Send the fellows upon the hurricane deck!” whined Waddie to Dick
Bayard, crying and howling at the same time.
“Don’t do it, Dick!” said Pinkerton, who could not endure the thought
of having the victory wrested from the conquerors in the very moment of
their triumph.
“Waddie says so. What can we do?” replied Bayard.
“They don’t mind,” added Forbush, shaking the unfortunate major again.
“Do as I tell you, Dick Bayard!” called Waddie, writhing under the
torture.
Very reluctantly the senior captain gave the order, and the
Wimpletonians crept up the ladders to the hurricane deck.
“Now let me alone!” growled Waddie, trying to shake off his powerful
persecutor.
“Hold still, Feathers!” replied Forbush, applying a little gentle
force, as if to assure his victim that the tragedy was not yet ended.
The engineer was now in excellent humor, and was exceedingly pleased
with the turn he had given to the affair.
“Ain’t you going to let me go now?” added the major, in a pleading tone.
“Not yet, Feathers. You must give security for the good behavior of
your crowd.”
“What are you going to do with me?” asked Waddie.
“I’m going to throw you overboard if you don’t behave like a man. Now,
Captain Underwood, you can let out our boys. These rascals have locked
them up in the cabin.”
“Better get rid of the Wimps first,” I whispered to the captain.
“What shall we do with these fellows?” he replied, with a significant
glance at me, as he comprehended my meaning.
“Land them at North Point,” I suggested.
“Good!” laughed Forbush. “It is a poor rule that won’t work both ways.
What do you say, Captain Underwood?”
“Anything to get rid of them!” replied the captain, impatiently.
“Very well; I will take care of Feathers. I will keep him in the
engine-room with me,” added Forbush. “Now, Wolf, you and the three
deck hands stay here. If those fellows up there attempt anything
mischievous, you call me, and Feathers and I will settle it--won’t we,
Feathers?”
Forbush laughed till his fat sides shook, and then dragged Major Waddie
to the engine-room.