Down the Rhine; Or, Young America in Germany by Oliver Optic (life books to read .TXT) 📖

in her crew being filled with the stoutest hands available. A dozen breakers, or kegs, used for boat service, were put on board, and with Peaks to assist in the stowage, the cutter shoved off, and pulled for the schooner.

The officer in charge of the boat explained to Mr. Fluxion what had occurred on board of the ship, and the twelve breakers, with six more belonging to the consort, were filled and stowed in the boat, which returned without delay to the Young America. The cutter was hoisted up, and again the squadron stood on its course. The new supply of water was immediately secured under lock and key, in one of the store-rooms. The quantity was still very meagre, being hardly enough for two days' consumption on full allowance. The watch below was again dismissed. It included one half of the penitents, who were beset by Raymond's party with questions and abuse; but they were true to their pledge, and the rebels were none the wiser.

The noise of the gun and of the lowering of the cutter had been heard by the runaways, and the appearance of the eighteen breakers, as they were passed down into the hold, was the assurance of another failure to them.

"We are dished," said Monroe, as the forward officer passed down the kegs.

"Perhaps we are, and perhaps we are not," replied Howe. "The end hasn't come yet."

"I suppose there is room enough in the run for the contents of all those breakers," added Little.

"Hyde and the rest of those babies have returned to their duty," continued Monroe, who was always the first to despond.

"No matter for that; we will keep on this tack till something happens," persisted Howe. "By this time we are pretty sure of being left behind when the fellows go to Germany; and for my part, as Fluxion is going away, I think that is the best thing that can happen to us. We shall find a chance to strike out on our own hook."

But the arrival of the water breakers carried consternation to the runaways, whatever they said and did. They were tired of the battle, though, if any of them had a thought of repentance, they subdued it. Raymond's party were angry at the defection of Hyde and his associates, and the future looked dark and hopeless, so far as remedial agencies were concerned, but their pride still prompted them to hold out. Wearied with anxiety and hope deferred, they turned in as the night advanced.

At eight bells, all hands were called again. The wind was blowing half a gale, and the starboard watch had taken in the light sails. It was deemed advisable still further to shorten sail, and a reef was put in the topsails. The starboard watch then turned in, the port having the deck till four in the morning. The wind came in heavy gusts from the south-west, and shortly after midnight it began to veer to the west, which brought up a dense fog. At four bells in the mid watch, the wind came square from the west in heavy squalls. The ship went about, and stood to the southward, the principal intending to go into Cherbourg if the weather would permit.

At eight bells, when the morning watch was called, another reef was put in the topsails. At daylight the fog was too dense to think of making a port, and the ship tacked again. There was a heavy sea running, but everything went along very well. Captain Shuffles remained on deck all night, but no emergency occurred which required the exercise of more than ordinary skill and energy. The wind was blowing a gale, though not a very severe one. All the students on board had been in worse weather, and it produced no excitement whatever.

At seven bells in the morning, the port watch was called to breakfast, according to the regular routine of the ship. The meal consisted of coffee, beefsteak, fried potatoes, and the rolls which had been baked the preceding afternoon. Peaks and the head steward were in the steerage, and when some of the runaways appeared, and attempted to seat themselves at the mess tables, they were forbidden to do so. Only those decorated with white or blue ribbons were allowed to breakfast. At eight bells the port watch went on deck, and the starboard, relieved from duty, came down to their morning meal, when the tables had been reset. A fresh supply of hot steaks and potatoes was brought from the kitchen, for the breakfast of each watch was cooked separately, and they fared precisely as the other watch had. The rebels were still excluded from the mess tables, and violent was the grumbling thereat.

When the regular breakfast was finished, the tables were again cleared, and the mutineers began to think they were to be starved into subjection; but they were mistaken, in part, at least, for the tables were again set. This time there were no hot beefsteaks, no fresh rolls, no fried potatoes, no coffee—nothing but cold corned beef and hard tack. None of the cooks or stewards said anything, no one made any remarks of any kind. There was the breakfast—salt junk and hard tack—regular sailor's fare. The head steward mildly indicated that breakfast was ready for those who had not already been served. The two parties of rebels seated themselves, and turned up their noses at the fare.

"Steward, bring me a mug of coffee," shouted Howe to the nearest waiter.

"It takes water to make coffee," replied the man, solemnly, and as he had doubtless been instructed to answer.

"What if it does? Bring me some coffee," repeated Howe, angrily.

"No coffee for this crowd," interposed the head steward, as solemnly.

"But I'm going to have my coffee," added Wilton, whose temper was not the sweetest in the world, as he rose from his stool, and rushed towards the kitchen door.

"Avast, my lad!" said Peaks, taking the rebel by the collar with no gentle force. "It takes water to make coffee."

Wilton was afraid of the boatswain, for there was a tradition on board that he had, on one occasion, laid hands upon a refractory boy, and he was evidently in the steerage for a purpose. He skulked back to his place at the table.

"Can't I have some coffee?" demanded Raymond, of the head steward, when that official came near his seat.

"You cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because it takes water to make coffee."

"What of that?"

"Owing to circumstances, the supply of water on board is rather short," answered the head steward, as solemnly as before.

"That's nothing to do with me. I didn't start the water tanks."

"I obey orders, and don't argue with any one; but there's an old saying that a man is known by the company he keeps, and I suppose a boy is, too."

The steward passed on, and refused to answer any more questions.

"If we can't have coffee, give us some water," said Lindsley.

"Water is water," replied the steward.

The rebels were hungry, and they ate, though very sparingly, of the unpalatable food which was set before them. Like most other boys belonging to "the first families," they did not relish corned beef at any time; and that before them, though of excellent quality, was very salt, having been a long time in the brine. They partook of the beef and the hard bread simply because there was nothing else with which to satisfy their hunger. Some of them wanted to "make a row" about the fare; but Peaks was a very formidable obstacle in the way of any such demonstration. They ate what they could, rather than what they wanted, and retreated to their mess-rooms.

"Well, what do you think now?" said Lindsley, as he threw himself into his berth.

Raymond only shook his head and grated his teeth.

"I think we are sold, and the sooner we back down, the better," added Lindsley.

"I won't back down!" snapped Raymond, savagely.

"How long do you think you can eat salt horse, without any water to wash it down?"

"I can stand it till I die!"

"I don't think it is worth while to stand it quite so long as that."

"I do! What right has the principal to deny us even a drop of water?"

"What right have we to stand out, and refuse to do our duty? Howe's fellows started the water tanks, and—"

"We didn't do it!" interrupted Raymond, savagely. "I won't stand it."

Rushing out into the steerage, he went to the water jar, in one corner. It was empty, though there was a breaker of water on deck for the use of the Faithful, who were thirsty. He was mad, and ready for desperate steps. He hastened to the mess-room of Howe, and entered just as that worthy was taking a draught from the bottle he had filled at the tanks the evening before.

"What's that?" demanded he.

"Water," replied Howe, good-naturedly.

"Give us a drink—will you? I'm almost choked," asked Raymond, glad to see that there was still an alternative.

"No, I thank you," answered Howe, putting the stopper back into the bottle. "We don't do the heavy jobs, and then provide for those who are too cowardly to help us."

"We are in the same boat with you; and it isn't fair to let our fellows suffer while you have water."

"You wouldn't go in with us. We have only a bottle apiece," pleaded Howe.

Raymond appealed to others in the room, but all of them were of one mind. The salt beef had created a tremendous thirst among those who had eaten it, and all who had water made large draughts upon the supply. The bottles had contained pickles, olives, ketchup, and other similar articles, so that the water was not very palatable. In the course of the forenoon, Raymond and his party stealthily attempted to obtain possession of these bottles, but the runaways were too vigilant for them; and before dinner the thirsty ones were exceedingly uncomfortable, to say the least. They tried to conceal their condition from the Faithful as much as possible, but they were all very nervous and disquieted.

At one o'clock, after the regular dinner of roast beef and rice pudding had been served to the Faithful, the tables were again prepared for the rebels; but the bill of fare was corned beef and hard bread—not a drop of water. Peaks and the head steward paced the unsteady floor, as they had done at breakfast time. Raymond, whose tongue and lips were parched with thirst, became desperate again, and attempted to force his way into the kitchen. He was seized by the boatswain, and the more he struggled, the more he was shaken up. He refused to behave himself, and Peaks thrust him into the brig.

 

CHAPTER IX.

THE LAST OF THE MUTINEERS.

The gale continued to blow ugly and gusty during the day, until eight bells in the afternoon. The fog hung heavy over the ocean, and the bell was rung every five minutes, in accordance with the English Admiralty instructions. The ship had been standing close-hauled to the north-north-west since noon, when she had tacked, at the warning of the fog signal, made at some light station on the coast of France, in the vicinity of Cape de La Hague. For four hours she had been on her present course, and was therefore approaching the coast of England again. At the beginning of the first dog-watch, there were some signs of a change of weather. The fog appeared to be lifting, and the wind came in less violent gusts.

In the steerage, among the rebels, the most unalloyed misery prevailed. The runaways had exhausted their supply of water under the pressure of thirst caused by the salt provision, though they had not yet begun to be very uncomfortable. Certainly they had, as yet, no thought of yielding, but were rather studying up the means of obtaining a new supply of water. Raymond's party were only waiting for the boatswain's call to ask permission to join their shipmates on deck; but, most provokingly, no call came. Their leader