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

of the concern is, 'Vous ne pouvez pas faire un sifflet de la queue d'un cochon;' and I think you have fully proved the truth of the saying. The meaning of the sentence is one of the secrets of the order. Do you promise not to reveal it?"

"I do, for one," laughed Lindsley. "I haven't the least idea myself what it means."

"Nor I," added all the others."

"Then you will all be discreet. The motto contains a very valuable moral lesson, which bears on your case, and I hope you will take it to heart," said Paul.

"I should like to take it to head first," replied Lindsley.

"I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Raymond," continued Grace.

"Not at all. I am willing to do my duty, rather than be starved on salt junk, and choked to death for the want of water; but I am not satisfied."

"Not satisfied!" exclaimed Grace. "Not after you have been initiated into the noble and magnanimous Circle of the Order of the Faithful!"

"Not much!"

"You should say, 'Nicht viel,' when you want to use that expression," laughed Grace, who did not like American slang, and had already partially cured Paul, who had a slight tendency in that direction.

"Well, nicht viel, then. It was not fair, when we had been promised a trip into Germany, to send us off to sea, just to please Shuffles."

"Captain Shuffles is a good young man. If you say anything against him, you shall be expelled from the Order of the Faithful!"

"Well, I won't say anything against him, then, Miss Arbuckle; but they say the ship is bound for Belfast."

"Do you see that land, Mr. Raymond?" she added, pointing to the light on the headland.

"I do."

"What land is it?"

"I don't know."

"It is the Bill of Portland. Now, which way is the ship headed?"

"About south-west," replied Raymond, after looking through the skylight at the tell-tale in the steerage.

"South-west by west, half west," she added.

"Bully for you!"

"Instead of that, you should say, "Bulle für ihnen." In other words, you should utter all your slang in German: it sounds better."

"I only meant to say that you reeled off the course like a regular old salt," laughed Raymond.

"If the ship were bound to Belfast, its course would be nearer west. We are not going to Belfast. We are going to Brest. Mr. Lowington said the ship's company needed a little exercise to perfect the discipline, and to save the trouble and expense of going into the dock at Havre, the vessels will be left in the harbor of Brest. He never had a thought of giving up the trip down the Rhine."

"Is that so?" asked the leader of the mild rebels.

Paul repeated the explanation to the penitents which the principal had given the day before.

"We understood that we were going to sea just to please Shuffles," said Lindsley.

"The captain certainly wanted better discipline, and he did propose a day or two at sea for its improvement," added Paul.

"I don't care for two or three days at sea, if we are to go to the Rhine," continued Raymond. "I'm satisfied now."

The conversation was continued till the starboard watch was piped to supper. Raymond was fully satisfied now that he had made a fool of himself, and, what was even worse, that he and his companions had been the dupes of the runaways. Those who belonged in the starboard watch were permitted to go to the table, and they did ample justice to the cold roast beef, butter toast, and tea which covered the mess tables. Peaks and the head steward paced the steerage, as before, and no one without a ribbon was allowed to partake. At six o'clock, after the port watch had been relieved, the second supper was served, and the rest of the hungry and thirsty delinquents enjoyed the change in their bill of fare.

Then the runaways sat down to their supper of salt beef and hard bread, without tea or water. The food did not suit them, and they turned up their noses at it. The thirst created by their salt breakfast in the morning had required large draughts upon their water bottles, and before dinner they had exhausted the supply. They were very thirsty, though none of them were actually suffering. The fact that they could not get any water made them want it all the more. They ate none of the salt meat, which by this time was loathsome to them. Ship bread was dry feed, and they could eat very little of it. Doubtless it was a hard case for them, the sons of rich men; but they had only to obey the boatswain's pipe, and "eat, drink, and be filled."

"I can't stand this," said Monroe, when a group of them had gathered in their mess-room after the unpalatable supper.

"Can't you? What's the reason you can't?" growled Howe.

"I'm almost choked."

"So am I," added several others.

"Are you going to back out?" demanded the leader.

"Rather than perish with thirst, I am," answered Herman.

"What's the use? All the rest of the fellows have deserted us," added Ibbotson. "Even Raymond is sporting a yellow ribbon, and is as jolly as a lord now."

"We can't make anything by it," said Monroe. "I move you we back out, and get a drink of water. All hands will be called at eight bells, I think, to put on more sail."

"No, no! Don't back out," interposed Howe. "We haven't made ourselves felt yet."

"That's so," groaned Herman. "No one takes any notice of us. Even those fellows that went up last won't speak to us, not even to answer a civil question. The principal evidently regards us with perfect contempt. I go in for doing something, or backing out. As it is, we are making a milk-and-water affair of it. We are starved and choked. That's all we have to show for what we have done."

"Why don't you preach, and say, 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' or something of that sort, which is original," snarled Howe.

"I should judge from your talk that you did not feel very good," added Herman.

"I don't; I'm as dry as any of you, but I have no idea of backing out."

"What are you going to do? What's to be the end of this?" demanded Ibbotson. "I've got enough of it."

"That seems to be the general opinion," continued Herman.

"Where's Little?" demanded Howe, who could not help realizing that the fortunes of the last of the mutineers were becoming desperate, and that it was not an easy thing to contend against such enemies as hunger and thirst. "I shall not give it up so. Let us do something. Let us make ourselves felt, even if we are hanged for it."

"What can we do?" inquired Herman, earnestly. "We are caged here like a lot of donkeys, and I have had enough of it."

"Will you hold on for a couple of hours longer, fellows?" persisted Howe.

"I will hold on till the boatswain calls all hands, and not an instant longer," replied Herman. "My tongue feels as though it were cracking with thirst."

Howe rushed out of the room to find Little, who was the man of expedients for the runaways. He found him in an adjoining room, and stated the case to him. The little villain was as uncomfortable and unhappy as the rest of the mutineers, and, to the surprise of Howe, counselled yielding rather than suffering any longer.

"I didn't think that of you, Little," sneered Howe.

"Didn't you? Well, it's only a question as to who can stand it the longest on a diet of salt horse without water," replied Little. "I can hold out as long as any fellow; but we shall not make anything by it. If we could, I would stick."

"Let us do something, at least, to make a sensation before we give in. I don't like the idea of being conquered just in this way."

"What can we do?"

"Let us set the ship afire, or bore holes in the bottom," whispered Howe.

"Of course, you don't mean anything of that sort," added Little, with a grim smile.

"I would rather do it than be whipped out in this manner. I never felt so cheap and mean in my life," continued Howe, kicking the front of the berth, and pounding with his fist to indicate the intensity of his wrath.

"Nor I either; but what are you going to do about it."

"Well, you furnish gumption for the crowd, and I came to ask you what to do. Our fellows' backs are broken, and they will go on deck when the boatswain's pipe sounds again."

"I shall go with them," replied Little, quietly.

"Can't we get into the hold, and find some water?"

"No; Bitts put a lock on that scuttle this morning, and the forward officers are watching all the time. You can set the ship afire if you like. I don't think of anything else you can do to make yourself felt."

"I'll do it!" exclaimed Howe.

"No, you won't," added Little, mildly.

"What's the reason I won't?"

"You dare not."

"You see!" said the discomfited leader, bolting out of the room.

Some men, and some boys, are the most easily overwhelmed by letting them severely alone. If Howe could have made a sensation, he would have been better satisfied, even if he had been committed to the brig. He was vain and proud, and it hurt him more to be ignored than to be beaten. It was questionable whether he was desperate enough to put his savage threat into execution; but he collected a pile of books and papers in his mess-room, and declared his intention to Herman, Monroe, and others, who were his messmates. No student was allowed to have matches, and he lacked the torch to fire the incendiary pile.

"Don't be an idiot, Howe!" said Herman, disgusted with the conduct of his leader.

"I'm going to do something," persisted he.

"You are not going to do that."

"Yes, I am! As soon as the steward leaves the steerage, I shall borrow one of the lanterns, and there will be a blaze down here."

"No, there won't!"

"What's the reason there won't?"

"The fellows won't let you do any such thing. A fellow is a fool to burn his own ship at sea."

"Of course it won't burn up; but it will bring Lowington down here, and he will find out we are somebody."

"Nonsense!"

"But I mean it."

"No, you don't! It is all buncombe."

"You wait and see if it is. If I can only bring Lowington down here, and see him scared out of his wits, I shall be satisfied. I shall be willing to go into the brig, then, and stay there for the rest of the cruise."

"You are a fool, Howe."

"I'm desperate."

"You shall not kindle any fire here. If you say you mean to do it, I will call Peaks at once."

"I said it, and I'll do it," said Howe, leaving the room.

His messmates followed him. The steward had left the steerage, and Howe, in order to take down the lantern, leaped upon a stool. Herman kicked it from beneath him, and he fell upon the floor.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Howe, with clinched fists.

"Don't you touch that lantern—that's all!"

"Yes, I will;" and he tried to mount the stool again.

Herman, Ibbotson, and Monroe seized him, and dragged him back into the room. The noise attracted the attention of the rest of the mutineers, and some others, who were below.

"Go, and call Peaks, Monroe," said Herman. "I will hold him till you come back."

"Don't do that," interposed the desperate leader, becoming suddenly calm, and apparently reasonable. "You are all cowards. Let me alone. I might as well yield, with such milk-and-water fellows around me. Don't say anything to Peaks."

"You are a bigger fool than I thought you were," added Herman, taking no pains to conceal his disgust at the conduct of his leader.

"All hands, on deck, ahoy!" piped the boatswain.

All hands, Howe included, answered the call. The mutiny was ended.

 

CHAPTER X.

WHAT THE RUNAWAYS WERE GOING TO DO.

It was an astonishingly stupid mutiny, not relieved, even a shade, by the