GOING BACK WITH THE PILOT.
We were pretty near the Narrows when I thought it was about time to let
the captain, or one of the officers, know that there were some people on
board who didn't intend to take the whole trip. I had read in the
newspapers that committees and friends who went part way with
distinguished people generally left them in the lower bay.
But I was saved the trouble of looking for an officer, for one of them,
the purser, came along, collecting tickets. I didn't give him a chance
to ask Scott or any of the other fellows for something that they didn't
have, but went right up to him and told him how the matter stood.
"I must see the captain about this," he said, and off he went.
"He didn't look very friendly," said Scott, and I had to admit that he
didn't.
In a few moments the captain came walking rapidly up to us. He was a
tall man, dressed in blue, with side-whiskers, and an oil-cloth cap.
The purser came up behind him.
"What's all this?" said the captain. "Are you not passengers, you boys?"
He did not look very friendly, either, as he asked this question.
[Illustration: THE VESSEL IS OFF.]
"Two of us are," I said, "but four of us were carried off
accidentally."
"Accident? Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed the captain. "Didn't you know the
vessel was starting? Hadn't you time to get off? Didn't you hear the
gong? Everybody else heard it. Are you all deaf?"
This was a good deal to answer at once, so I just said that I didn't
remember hearing any gong. Tom Myers and his brother George, however,
spoke up, and said that they had heard a gong, they thought, but did not
know what it was for.
"Why didn't you ask, then?" said the captain, who was getting worse in
his humor. I had a good mind to tell him that it would take up a good
deal of the crew's time if Tom Myers and his brother George asked about
everything they didn't understand on board this ship, but I thought I
had better not. I have no doubt the gong sounded when we were having our
row in the state-room, and were not likely to pay attention to it even
if we did hear it.
"And why, in the name of common sense," the captain went on, "didn't you
come and report, the instant you found the vessel had started? Did you
think we were fast to the pier all this time?"
Then Scott thought he might as well come out square with the truth; and
he told how they made up their minds, after they found that the steamer
had really started, with them on board, not to make any fuss about it,
nor give anybody any trouble to stop the ship, or to put back, but just
to stay quietly on board, and go back with the pilot. They thought that
would be most convenient, all around.
"Go back with the pilot!" the captain cried. "Why, you young idiot,
there _is_ no pilot! Coastwise steamers don't carry pilots. I am my own
pilot. There is no pilot going back!"
You ought to have seen Scott's face!
[Illustration: SCOTT AND THE CAPTAIN.]
Nobody said anything. We all just stood and looked at the captain. Tears
began to come into the eyes of Tom Myers and his brother George.
"What are they to do?" asked the purser of the captain. "Buy tickets for
Savannah?"
"We can't do that," said Scott, quickly. "We haven't any money."
"I don't know what they're to do," replied the captain. "I'd like to
chuck 'em overboard." And with this agreeable little speech he walked
away.
The purser now took the two tickets for Rectus and myself, and saying:
"We'll see what's to be done with the rest of you fellows," he walked
away, too.
Then we all looked at one another. We were a pretty pale lot, and I
believe that Rectus and I, who were all right, felt almost as badly as
the four other boys, who were all wrong.
"We _can't_ go to Savannah!" said Harry Alden. "What right have they to
take us to Savannah?"
"Well, then, you'd better get out and go home," said Scott. "I don't so
much mind their taking us to Savannah, for they can't make us pay if we
haven't any money. But how are we going to get back? That's the
question. And what'll the professor think? He'll write home that we've
run away. And what'll we do in Savannah without any money?"
"You'd better have thought of some of these things before you got us
into waiting to go back with the pilot," said Harry.
As for Tom Myers and his brother George, they just sat down and put
their arms on the railing, and clapped their faces down on their arms.
They cried all over their coat-sleeves, but kept as quiet as they could
about it. Whenever these two boys had to cry before any of the rest of
the school-fellows, they had learned to keep very quiet about it.
While the rest of us were talking away, and Scott and Harry finding
fault with each other, the captain came back. He looked in a little
better humor.
"The only thing that can be done with you boys," he said, "is to put you
on some tug or small craft that's going back to New York. If we meet
one, I'll lie to and let you off. But it will put me to a great deal of
trouble, and we may meet with nothing that will take you aboard. You
have acted very badly. If you had come right to me, or to any of the
officers, the moment you found we had started, I could have easily put
you on shore. There are lots of small boats about the piers that would
have come out after you, or I might even have put back. But I can do
nothing now but look out for some craft bound for New York that will
take you aboard. If we don't meet one, you'll have to go on to
Savannah."
This made us feel a little better. We were now in the lower bay, and
there would certainly be some sort of a vessel that would stop for the
boys. We all went to the forward deck and looked out. It was pretty cold
there, and we soon began to shiver in the wind, but still we stuck it
out.
There were a good many vessels, but most of them were big ones. We could
hardly have the impudence to ask a great three-masted ship, under full
sail, to stop and give us a lift to New York. At any rate, we had
nothing to do with the asking. The captain would attend to that. But
every time we came near a vessel going the other way, we looked about to
see if we could see anything of an officer with a trumpet, standing all
ready to sing out, "Sail ho!"
But, after a while, we felt so cold that we couldn't stand it any
longer, and we went below. We might have gone and stood by the
smoke-stack and warmed ourselves, but we didn't know enough about ships
to think of this.
We hadn't been standing around the stove in the dining-room more than
ten minutes, before the purser came hurrying toward us.
"Come, now," he said, "tumble forward! The captain's hailed a
pilot-boat."
"Hurrah!" said Scott; "we're going back in a pilot-boat, after all!" and
we all ran after the purser to the lower forward deck. Our engines had
stopped, and not far from us was a rough-looking little schooner with a
big "17" painted in black on her mainsail. She was "putting about," the
purser said, and her sails were flapping in the wind.
There was a great change in the countenances of Tom Myers and his
brother George. They looked like a couple of new boys.
"Isn't this capital?" said Scott. "Everything's turned out all right."
But all of a sudden he changed his tune.
"Look here!" said he to me, pulling me on one side; "wont that pilot
want to be paid something? He wont stop his vessel and take us back for
nothing, will he?"
I couldn't say anything about this, but I asked the purser, who still
stood by us.
"I don't suppose he'll make any regular charge," said he; "but he'll
expect you to give him something,--whatever you please."
"But we haven't anything," said Scott to me. "We have our return tickets
to Willisville, and that's about all."
"Perhaps we can't go back, after all," said Harry, glumly, while Tom
Myers and his brother George began to drop their lower jaws again.
I did not believe that the pilot-boat people would ask to see the boys'
money before they took them on board; but I couldn't help feeling that
it would be pretty hard for them to go ashore at the city and give
nothing for their passages but promises, and so I called Rectus on one
side, and proposed to lend the fellows some money. He agreed, and I
unpinned a banknote and gave it to Scott. He was mightily tickled to get
it, and vowed he'd send it back to me in the first letter he wrote (and
he did it, too).
The pilot-schooner did not come very near us, but she lowered a boat
with two men in it, and they rowed up to the steamer. Some of our
sailors let down a pair of stairs, and one of the men in the boat came
up to see what was wanted. The purser was telling him, when the captain,
who was standing on the upper deck, by the pilot-house, sung out:
"Hurry up there, now, and don't keep this vessel here any longer. Get
'em out as quick as you can, Mr. Brown."
The boys didn't stop to have this kind invitation repeated, and Scott
scuffled down the stairs into the boat as fast as he could, followed
closely by Harry Alden. Tom Myers and his brother George stopped long
enough to bid each of us good-bye, and shake hands with us, and then
they went down the stairs. They had to climb over the railing to the
platform in front of the wheel-house to get to the stairs, and as the
steamer rolled a little, and the stairs shook, they went down very
slowly, backward, and when they got to the bottom were afraid to step
into the boat, which looked pretty unsteady as it wobbled about under
them.
"Come, there! Be lively!" shouted the captain.
Just then, Rectus made a step forward. He had been looking very
anxiously at the boys as they got into the boat, but he hadn't said
anything.
"Where are you going?" said I; for, as quick as a flash, the thought
came into my mind that Rectus's heart had failed him, and that he would
like to back out.
"I think I'll go back with the boys," he said, making another step
toward the top of the stairs, down which the man from the pilot-boat was
hurrying.
"Just you try it!" said I, and I put out my arm in front of him.
He didn't try it, and I'm glad he didn't, for I should have been sorry
enough to have had the boys go back and say that when they last saw
Rectus and I we were having a big fight on the deck of the steamer.
The vessel now started off, and Rectus and I went to the upper deck and
stood and watched the little boat, as it slowly approached the
schooner. We were rapidly leaving them, but we saw the boys climb on
board, and one of them--it must have been Scott--waved his handkerchief
to us. I waved mine in return, but Rectus kept his in his pocket. I
don't think he felt in a wavy mood.
While we were standing looking at the distant pilot-boat, I began to
consider a few matters; and the principal thing was this: How were
Rectus and I to stand toward each other? Should we travel like a couple
of school-friends, or should I make him understand that he was under my
charge and control, and must behave himself accordingly? I had no idea
what he thought of the matter, and by the way he addressed me when we
met, I supposed that it was possible that he looked upon me very much as
he used to when we went to school together. If he had said Mr. Gordon,
it would have been more appropriate, I thought, and would have
encouraged me, too, in taking position as his supervisor. As far as my
own feelings were concerned, I think I would have preferred to travel
about on a level with Rectus, and to have a good time with him, as two
old school-fellows might easily have, even if one did happen to be two
years older than the other. But that would not be earning my salary.
After a good deal of thought, I came to the conclusion that I would let
things go on as they would, for a while, giving Rectus a good deal of
rope; but the moment he began to show signs of insubordination, I would
march right on him, and quell him with an iron hand. After that, all
would be plain sailing, and we could have as much fun as we pleased,
for Rectus would know exactly how far he could go.
There were but few passengers on deck, for it was quite cold, and it now
began to grow dark, and we went below. Pretty soon the dinner-bell rang,
and I was glad to hear it, for I had the appetite of a horse. There was
a first-rate dinner, ever so many different kinds of dishes, all up and
down the table, which had ridges running lengthwise, under the
table-cloth, to keep the plates from sliding off, if a storm should come
up. Before we were done with dinner the shelves above the table began to
swing a good deal,--or rather the vessel rolled and the shelves kept
their places,--so I knew we must be pretty well out to sea, but I had
not expected it would be so rough, for the day had been fine and clear.
When we left the table, it was about as much as we could do to keep our
feet, and in less than a quarter of an hour I began to feel dreadfully.
I stuck it out as long as I could, and then I went to bed. The old ship
rolled, and she pitched, and she heaved, and she butted, right and left,
against the waves, and made herself just as uncomfortable for human
beings as she could, but, for all that, I went to sleep after a while.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up, there was Rectus,
sitting on a little bench by the state-room wall, with his feet braced
against the berth. He was hard at work sucking a lemon. I turned over
and looked down at him. He didn't look a bit sick. I hated to see him
eating lemons.
"Don't you feel badly, Rectus?" said I.
"Oh no!" said he; "I'm all right. You ought to suck a lemon. Have one?"
I declined his offer. The idea of eating or drinking anything was
intensely disagreeable to me. I wished that Rectus would put down that
lemon. He did throw it away after a while, but he immediately began to
cut another one.
[Illustration: RECTUS AND THE LEMONS.]
"Rectus," said I, "you'll make yourself sick. You'd better go to bed."
"It's just the thing to stop me from being sick," said he, and at that
minute the vessel gave her stern a great toss over sideways, which sent
Rectus off his seat, head foremost into the wash-stand. I was glad to
see it. I would have been glad of almost anything that stopped that
lemon business.
But it didn't stop it; and he only picked himself up, and sat down
again, his lemon at his mouth.
"Rectus!" I cried, leaning out of my berth. "Put down that lemon and go
to bed!"
He put down the lemon without a word, and went to bed. I turned over
with a sense of relief. Rectus was subordinate!