THE CABIN OF THE FLORENCE
If Captain Carboneer had felt any especial interest in the Florence as
a sailing yacht, he might have desired to see the cabin of the craft,
which had always been the delight of Christy Passford. He had expended
a great deal of his pocket-money upon the arrangement and furnishing of
the cabin of his yacht, not only because he spent a considerable portion
of his vacation hours in it, but because it had been a perpetual study
with him to enlarge and improve it.
It is very difficult to get three pints of liquid into a quart measure,
and it was a conundrum of this sort that Christy was studying upon
when he tried to make a parlor, bedroom, and dining-saloon of the very
limited space in the forward part of the Florence. Though he could
hardly get the three pints into the quart measure, he had done the best
he could, and succeeded to a rather remarkable degree. But spite of the
miracle which had been wrought in the cabin, Captain Carboneer did not
even try the door of the apartment when he and his companions went on
board of the yacht. He was so absorbed in the enterprise in which he was
engaged, that his indifference to the miracle of the cabin may be
excused.
Even the double doors of the cabin were of handsome wood, elaborately
polished; and they were not secured with the usual appliance of a
padlock, but were provided with an expensive mortise-lock, which could
be operated upon either side. If Captain Carboneer had tried to open
that door, he would have found that it was fastened; but perhaps he
could not have discovered that it had been secured upon the inside.
Unless, therefore, he had taken the trouble to break open the door, he
could not have ascertained that Christy Passford was actually in the
cabin.
Possibly, if he had opened the door by any means, he would not have
discovered that the proprietor of the boat was in this dainty apartment,
for the skipper had taken a great deal of pains to conceal himself so
that he should not be seen, even if the intruders in the Florence had
succeeded in opening the doors without the aid of the key in his pocket.
Though he had two very nice berths in the cabin, miraculously arranged
as to space, Christy did not occupy one on the present occasion, for in
that case the unbidden visitors would have seen him if their curiosity
had led them to force the doors.
When the cook of the Florence, usually the skipper of the craft, was
engaged in the practice of the culinary art, he seated himself on what
looked like a box in front of the stove. But the interior of this box
was really a part of the cabin, for it contained the feet of any one
occupying the berth on the starboard side. The cookroom had no end of
bins, lockers and drawers to contain the variety of provisions and
stores necessary to get up a dinner for the skipper and his guests, when
he had any. And even all these places could not contain everything that
was needed on board. Under the two berths were large, though not very
deep, lockers, one of which contained the jib-topsail of the craft, and
other spare sails, while the opposite one was the fuel locker of the
sloop.
As the boat had not been used for a long time in cruising, the fuel
receptacle was empty, though a spare gaff-topsail had been thrown
into it. This locker was big enough to admit the body-corporate of
the skipper. It was not a particularly clean place, for a portion of it
had been economized for the stowage of the charcoal, which the skipper
preferred to wood. But he did not rebel at the blackness of the retreat
he had chosen, for he wore his boating dress, which was hardly stylish
enough for a dude or a dandy.
But Skipper Passford did not crawl into this black hole for the fun of
the thing. He had been spending his time in waiting for a movement to be
made in regard to the Bellevite. He staid in the house all the forenoon,
and, after lunch, he sailed down the river in the Florence, though with
no object in doing so beyond passing the time. Not far from the beach
where he had afterwards left the yacht, he discovered a boat rowed by
two men with a third in the stern sheets.
The breeze was quite gentle, though the Florence would sail at a very
tolerable speed when there was the least apology for a wind. She was
doing so on the present occasion, and Christy had stretched himself out
on the cushioned seat, with the spokes of the wheel where he could steer
without any exertion, or next to none. The idleness of his days since
his return from the eventful cruise of the Bellevite seemed to have
infected him with an unnatural indolence.
He felt as though he was rather more than half asleep when he saw the
boat with the two oarsmen. It was going up the river, while he was going
down. He had to luff a little to keep clear of the oars, but he did not
move from his half-recumbent posture. When the boat was alongside, he
glanced idly and carelessly at the person in the stern sheets. Instantly
he was wide awake, though he did not change his position. The person
looked like a gentleman, and Christy was sure that he had seen him
before. A couple of minutes of earnest cudgelling of his brain assured
him that he had seen the stranger in Nassau; that he was one of the many
who wanted to purchase the Bellevite, ostensibly for a merchant vessel,
but really for the Confederate navy.
After he had run a short distance farther down the river, Christy came
about, the boat being some distance from him, but the gentleman soon
landed and walked up the river on the shore, or very near it. In a short
time, he was joined by another person, whose form looked familiar to the
skipper of the Florence. He could not identify him, for he was not near
enough to him to see his face. A puff of air came from across the river,
and the Florence darted ahead, and Christy was soon out of sight of the
two strangers.
Near the boundary of his father's estate, he ran the yacht on the sandy
beach, letting her strike the sand hard enough to stick where she was
for half an hour, though she was not likely to get adrift, for the
gentle breeze was blowing her farther on the shore as the tide rose.
Christy hauled down the jib of the sloop, and then seated himself, or
rather reclined upon the cushions, though in such a position that he
could see the shore, or any persons who came upon it. No one was in
sight, and he had no one to watch. The swash of a great steamer passing
in the channel made his boat roll heavily for a moment, with the forward
part of the bottom resting on the sand. For the want of something better
to think of, he began to put conundrums to himself in the absence of any
other person to perplex with them. What was the gentleman that wanted to
buy a steamer in Nassau doing up the Hudson? This was the principal one:
he could not answer it. He gave it up; as the French have it, he had to
"throw his tongue to the dogs," having no use for it in this connection.
But while he was dreaming of the possible mission of the stranger,
he heard voices on the beach. Not deeming it wise to show himself, he
rolled off the cushion upon the floor of the standing-room, and then
fixed himself in a position where he could see and hear what passed
between the speakers. He could see without being seen. It did not
require a second look for him to decide that the second person on the
beach was Major Pierson, though his companion called him Mulgate.
If Christy had been interested before, he was excited now. The two
speakers were within earshot of the boat, and in the stillness of the
scene he could hear every word that was said. In a few moments he was in
full possession of the statements of the captain and the major in regard
to their intentions; and it appeared that the gentleman he had seen in
Nassau still desired to obtain a steamer.
Before it was dark, Christy was astonished to behold his cousin Corny on
the other side of the fence; and he readily understood that he was to
take part in the enterprise in hand. As yet the listener had obtained
but little more than the information in regard to the intention of the
visitors. When he found that they were disposed to take possession of
the Florence, and make their visit to the Bellevite in her, the skipper
retired from the standing-room of the boat to the cabin, where he locked
the door, and put the key in his pocket. When he realized that they
really meant to come on board, he crawled into the space under the
starboard berth, and arranged the sail so that it would conceal him
in case the intruders pushed their investigation into the cabin.
When he had completed his preparations, he was quite satisfied that
he should not be discovered. The trio came on board, and Christy fixed
himself so that he could hear every word that was said, for there was a
small opening under the berth through which the superfluous length of a
pair of oars could be thrust when not in use.
Christy, without the remotest suspicion on the part of the plotters
that they could be heard by any living being, and especially not by so
dangerous a character as Christy had proved himself to be to the peace
and dignity of the Confederacy, heard all that was said, and he obtained
a full idea of the intentions of the conspirators. When they went on
board of the Bellevite, he was so excited that he could no longer remain
in his prison, but came out, and crept up the accommodation ladder to
the deck of the steamer. But he was careful not to show himself, and,
having a key to the cabin, he went into it, locking the door after him.
Then he had a chance to think.
What should he do? He had no force at hand to beat off such a party as
Captain Carboneer mentioned. They might carry out their plot that very
night, as they had talked of doing. Perhaps it would be executed at
once, even while he was on board, and he would then be a prisoner. This
idea was too galling to be considered, and he left the cabin to visit
the wardroom. Going still farther forward, he was surprised to hear the
roar of the flames in the furnaces below. It looked at that moment as
though the Bellevite was doomed to sail under a Confederate flag. But if
he could do nothing more, he could save himself, even if he had to jump
into the river and swim to the shore.
Christy lost no time in making his way to the main deck of the vessel;
but he was careful to avoid the visitors. He went back to the cabin, and
went on deck from it. Then he discovered that the trio were in the act
of descending the accommodation steps. Mounting the rail he saw them
embark in the Florence, and sail down the river. Dismounting from the
rail, he hastened to the engine-room, where he found Sampson getting the
engine ready to be put in motion.
"Ah, Christy, I thought you had gone," said the oiler.
"Who were those two men who were on board?" asked Christy, not a little
excited.
"They were two gentlemen you brought on board, Christy," replied
Sampson, innocently enough.
"That I brought on board!" exclaimed the skipper of the Florence.
"Yes, sir: and I thought you had gone ashore with them," added the
oiler.
"I brought no men on board, Sampson! What are you talking about?"
demanded Christy impatiently.
"Didn't you bring two gentlemen on board, and didn't one of them want to
measure the carriage of the big gun?"
"No! I did not! I have not seen you before now this evening," protested
Christy.
"Then I have lost my senses. Didn't you tell me to get up steam, because
the steamer would be moved to the navy yard before daylight in the
morning?" demanded Sampson, bewildered by the denial of the young man.
"I see now," added Christy. "You mistook Corny for me."
Sampson gave him all the details of the visit of the strangers.