Down the Rhine; Or, Young America in Germany by Oliver Optic (best book club books for discussion .txt) 📕

"Yes, after his coffee, I suppose. He always comes back eating a biscuit."

"Just so; and Bitts goes to sleep."

"Not often."

"I've seen him asleep."

"The officers on duty have to keep on their feet all the time," said Perth.

"No matter if they do. Bitts leans against the foremast, and goes to sleep. He isn't used to being on watch lately."

"Well, go ahead."

"When Peaks goes below, we will draw the slide on him, and lock him into the cabin," added Little.

"Good! Go on," replied Perth, beginning to be interested. "Bitts is still on deck."

"Pass a line around him, and make him fast to the foremast while he is asleep."

"It will be apt to wake him."

"No matter; he is fast."

"He will make a noise."

"But the other officers are locked into the cabin."

"It might work. What then?"

"Lower the second cutter, and go ashore."

"They would pick us up as soon as they broke out of the cabin. The other fellows would work against us if we don't take them with us."

"Well, make a big thing of it, and take all the fellows and all the boats," said the accommodating little villain.

"That would do better; and there isn't a fellow on board who isn't up to such a move."

"That's so."

"It will take some time to work up the idea, though we have the steerage all to ourselves," added Perth, musing.

The conspirators discussed the scheme at every opportunity during the day, and imparted it to the rest of the crew. Some of them suggested objections, but all of them were willing to take part in the enterprise, for they were so utterly disgusted with the course of Mr. Fluxion, that anything was preferable to submission.

"Suppose we get ashore," said Sheffield. "We shall be in Portugal, perhaps fifty miles from any large place."

"Cape Roca isn't twenty miles from Lisbon," replied Perth. "We can walk that distance in a day."

"What are you going to do in Lisbon? Not one of us can speak a word of Portuguese."

"We can do just the same as we should have done in Brest, and raise money on our letters of credit, and get to Paris. We can take a steamer back to Brest. The fare will not be more than ten dollars apiece in the fore cabin."

"Why not wait till we see where we are going?" suggested Sheffield.

"It may be too late then," answered Perth. "If Fluxion should suddenly head the vessel to the westward, that would mean home. The cook says we have fresh provisions enough for thirty days, which they took in while we were attending lecture."

"Does he know where we are bound?"

"No; or if he does, he won't say anything."

"I don't believe in landing at any such place as Lisbon, or anywhere in Portugal; though, of course, I will do what the rest of the fellows wish."

Perth and Little were too impatient to postpone the enterprise, though they acknowledged the difficulty of landing in Portugal. They worked up the details of the plan, and a part was assigned to each of the runaways. Phillips was to secure Bitts, with the assistance of half a dozen others. Perth was to close the companion way, lock it, and also drive a nail into the slide to make it sure. Greenway was to cover and secure the sky-lights. Herman was to fasten the door leading from the cabin to the steerage with a handspike. Ibbotson was to bar the door of the forecastle, where the cooks and under stewards slept. Others were to back the head sails, so as to lay to the vessel; and when all these things had been done, the boats were to be lowered,—the places of all the party having been assigned to them,—and they were to pull for the shore.

The night came on, and the light on Cape Roca was identified by Perth, at four bells; but a fog set in from seaward, and he decided that it was not prudent to take to the boats under such circumstances, for the reason that the boat compasses were in the cabin, and could not be obtained. At seven bells on Saturday morning the Josephine was off Cape St. Vincent.

"Keep her south-east," said Mr. Fluxion to the quarter-master at the wheel, when the headland bore north-east from the vessel.

"South-east!" exclaimed Perth, when the order had been repeated. "That means the Straits of Gibraltar. Fellows, we are bound up the Mediterranean."

"What does it mean?" inquired Herman.

"Fluxion is going to Italy," replied the leader, bitterly. "He is taking us with him!"

Perth's conclusion was passed along till every seaman on board understood it. The mystery was solved at last. There could be no doubt of the correctness of the solution, and great were the wrath and indignation of the runaways. It was abominable to compel them, the sons of gentlemen, to work the vessel as foremast hands, while she was employed on Mr. Fluxion's private business. It was an insult to them, an insult to their parents, and an outrage upon humanity in general. It was not to be endured, and rebellion was a duty. Little's plan was in higher favor than ever.

The wind was light, and the vessel, close-hauled, made but five and six knots during the day. At night she was out of sight of land. All day Sunday she made but little progress, and lay in a calm for several hours. Towards night, however, a fresh westerly wind came to her aid, and on Monday morning the crew saw the mountains of Europe and Africa vying with each other in sublimity, though they were too sour to appreciate the grandeur of the scene. The vessel hugged the Spanish shore, and Perth was on the lookout for an opportunity to spring the trap; but the sea was so rough and choppy, and the current so swift, that he was not willing to embark in the boats. It looked altogether too perilous. Besides, Bitts did not lean against the mast and go to sleep, and Cleats sent a hand down to bring up his luncheon, and the vice-principal staid on deck nearly all night.

"I think Fluxion smells a mice," said Perth, the next day.

"Why so?" asked Little.

"Because he stays on deck more than half the night."

"He is anxious about the navigation, perhaps."

"It is plain sailing here," added Perth. "I think he has seen our fellows talking together a great deal."

That was really the case. The vice-principal understood boys thoroughly. He had observed the earnest talks among little squads, and cautioned the acting officers to be very vigilant. It is enough to say that no opportunity was presented for carrying out the scheme of Little, and the Josephine came to anchor in the harbor of Genoa, ten days after she sailed from Brest. If the runaways had been in a proper frame of mind to enjoy it, there was a great deal to be seen; but they were too much taken up with their grievances to appreciate strange sights or beautiful scenery.

As soon as the schooner came to anchor, three of the four boats were hauled in, and lowered to the deck, where they were turned over to be painted. Bitts and Gage rowed the vice-principal ashore, while Peaks and Cleats, laying aside the dignity of their temporary positions, went to work scraping and painting the bottoms of the boats, which seemed to have been removed from the davits solely for the purpose of preventing any of the crew from escaping. Mr. Fluxion was absent only an hour, and during his absence Dr. Carboy watched the students every moment of the time.

The next morning a shore boat brought off a pale lady, who was understood to be the vice-principal's sister. They spent the whole forenoon in the cabin; but in the afternoon they went on shore together, to draw up and execute certain papers. Perth, in behalf of the crew, asked permission of Mr. Fluxion, just as he was departing, to go on shore.

"Quite impossible, young gentlemen," replied the vice-principal. "They are painting the boats, which are not in condition to be used. Besides, there is hardly time, for I hope we shall be able to sail before night."

Perth was very angry, and so were all the others, though they hardly expected the desired permission. Mr. Fluxion went on shore with the pale lady, and Dr. Carboy, Peaks, and Cleats watched the crew with Argus eyes. It was of no use for Little to fall overboard, for there was no boat to send after him. Perth was not quite willing to attempt a swim to the shore, for a fresh south-west wind kept up an ugly swell in that part of the port where the Josephine was anchored. Shore boats were driven from alongside by Peaks. In a word, Mr. Fluxion understood his crew, and knew what he was about. With a ship's company who had been desperate enough to capture the vessel on a former occasion, he was wise enough to keep everything taut. So the runaways could only grumble and growl, and watch the steamers which were constantly arriving and departing.

Before sundown Mr. Fluxion returned alone. He had finished his business with his sister, and the order was given to get under way, after the boats had all been restored to the davits. There was no chance to execute any of the desperate schemes which had been adopted. Discipline was triumphant, and the Josephine sped on her way to the Straits of Gibraltar. Four days out, Cape Antonio, on the coast of Spain, was sighted, and for the next two days the vessel sailed along the coast, with the lofty mountains of Spain in full view.

Mr. Fluxion was communicative enough to say that the Josephine would put into Lisbon, and await the arrival of the Young America. The intelligence was not pleasant to the runaways. Perth declared that something must be done at once, or at least before the vessel had passed Cape de Gata. Alicante and Carthagena were near, and from either of them steamers frequently departed for Marseilles. They had actually made the trip in the Josephine which they had contemplated before their runaway excursion in her, but under different circumstances from those they desired. If they could get to Marseilles, the rest of the plan might be realized.

They had kept everything in readiness for the enterprise which Little had planned, and for a fortnight had been on the lookout for an opportunity to strike the blow. After the vessel had come up with Cape Antonio, Perth told the fellows he should make the attempt that night, though it would be bright moonlight. The signal for those below to perform the part assigned to them was three raps on the deck, over the steerage, with the heel of the leader. But Perth was not in Cleats's watch; so he and Herman hid themselves under the top-gallant forecastle, when their watch was relieved. About three bells in the mid watch, Little informed the leader that Cleats had gone below.

"Where's Bitts?" whispered Perth.

"In the waist, planking the deck."

"Call Phillips, quick!" added the leader, as he came out of his hiding-place.

Phillips promptly appeared. He was a great, stout fellow, as ugly as he was big. He immediately prepared to do his part. Herman was sent below to see that every seaman in the steerage was awake and ready to act, and he succeeded in eluding the sleepy vigilance of Bitts.

Perth gave the signal for those in the steerage, and at the same time whistled for the information of those on deck. Bitts was not so obliging as to lean against a mast, or anything else, and the conspirators were compelled to take him flying. Phillips had prepared, with a piece of whale line, a kind of lasso, and, stepping up behind him, threw it over his head, drawing it tight around his neck, before the astonished carpenter suspected any mischief. The end of the whale line was then hooked to the clewline of the fore-square-sail, which had been detached for