CHAPTER X.

SOMETHING ABOUT THE MADEIRA ISLANDS.

On board of the Josephine and the Tritonia, the number sent away rendered it necessary to re-organize the watches. While the vice-principals were attending to this duty, the wind suddenly changed, so that the vessels could not lay their course; and it had headed them off till they were standing nearly to the southward. At the same time the fog shut out the Ville d’Angers from view. For a time after the course had been changed, the fog-signals of the steamer were heard; and then they ceased.

As the steamer was not disturbed by the change of wind, Mr. Fluxion feared she would run ahead of the little squadron, and lose sight of her associates. He directed the captain to tack after the Josephine had run some five miles to the southward, so as to keep somewhere on the track of the steamer. The fog was very deep and dense, and he wondered that the Ville had ceased to whistle. He was not prepared to believe that the captain of the steamer would wilfully run away from her consorts; and the situation puzzled him. The Tritonia was near enough to hear the signals of the other schooner; and there was little danger of losing sight of each other unless heavy weather came on, of which there were some indications.

The captains had consulted their barometers as soon as the watches had been re-arranged. Wainwright was astonished to observe a considerable fall of the instrument; and he immediately reported the fact to Mr. Pelham, and Capt. Vroome did the same to Mr. Fluxion. Every preparation was at once made for heavy weather; and they had it before dark.

While the fog was still hanging over the ocean, the wind began to come in heavy gusts, and all the light sails were hastily taken in. Just after dark the fog lifted, or was driven to seaward by the strong breeze. The vice-principals looked anxiously for the lights of the Ville d’Angers; but nothing could be seen of them in any direction. During the night the wind blew a fierce gale from the southward. At daylight the gale had moderated, but the fog settled down on the water again. Nothing was seen or heard of the steamer. For three days more, in all sorts of weather, though the wind was generally contrary, the schooners continued on their course, and then arrived safely at Funchal.

“There is the Prince at anchor off the Loo Rock!” exclaimed Mr. Pelham, as the Tritonia approached the town of Funchal.

“That’s an odd-looking rock,” added Scott, who heard the remark. “It looks like the head of the sea-serpent, with a fort built on the top of his cranium.”

“That fort commands the harbor, if we can call this a harbor when it has no shelter from any storm from the east or south, where most of the tempests of this region come from,” continued the vice-principal, who had been at these islands before. “The rock is seventy feet high; and the Portuguese have made it impossible to climb up its steep sides, except by the steps opposite the island. The top of it is three hundred feet long by a hundred wide; and this space is covered by a fort, mounting fourteen guns, which is always kept garrisoned, as a sort of regulator of the vessels in the roadstead. If they don’t obey orders, and follow the rules of the port, a gun from that fort will remind them of the neglect; and any attempt to evade them will bring a shot.”

“There is a mole, or something of that kind,” added Scott, who was off duty, and was privileged to observe the wonders of the shore.

“That is the Pontinha. It is a sort of breakwater, though it affords no great protection to vessels, which are sometimes obliged to get up their anchors, and work out to sea, to avoid being cast upon the rocks. It is an embankment built out to a small island on which is the fort of San José. You see that the vessels behind the Loo Rock are moored in a line. They are made fast to heavy cables, secured by iron bolts to the rock at the bow, while a stern line is carried to the shore of the main island. The bottom is very rocky, and the holding ground is not good.”

All hands were called to be ready to moor ship; but even this was not allowable until the health officers had visited the schooners, and a government boat had been alongside. When these formalities were all completed, the two vessels hauled in beside the American Prince, and were moored like the other craft.

As soon as the rules of the port would permit it,--for no vessel can communicate with the shore, or with another vessel, until the proper permits are obtained,--the vice-principals went on board of the Prince to report to the principal, who of course had no intimation of the stirring events which had transpired on the passage from Gibraltar. The boat’s crew that pulled them to the steamer boarded the Prince; and the students told the story of the Ville d’Angers, though the Princes had nothing of interest to relate in return, for the ship had not sailed till the violence of the storm had abated, and had made a tolerably comfortable voyage.

The Princes thought the fellows in the picked-up steamer were having a jolly time of it; and most of them were willing to believe they had taken it into their heads to go off on a cruise by themselves, and would return when they got ready. Scott defended O’Hara from the implied charges against him, and was confident the Ville d’Angers would soon arrive.

“It will be a big lark for those fellows,” insisted McLane, the fourth lieutenant of the Prince.

“It’s no lark at all, Mack,” replied Scott. “O’Hara is a countryman of yours, and you judge him by yourself.”

“That’s so!” exclaimed McLane. “If I had the command of a fine steamer like the Ville d’Angers, I don’t think I should hurry to get into port with her.”

“That will do for you, but not for O’Hara. When he gets out to sea he knows the way back,” added Scott.

“You won’t see that steamer for a week at the least,” persisted McLane.

“I can’t say that we shall; but, if we don’t, it will not be for any fault of O’Hara.”

“If it were my case, I would take the steamer to New York, stopping at the ‘Isles of the Sea’ on the way, making sure that I kept out of the way of the academy squadron all the time,” continued the lieutenant of the Prince.

“It’s easy enough for you to tell what you would do, Mack; but the principal knows you well enough not to trust you with a mud-scow, to say nothing of a fine steamer like the Ville d’Angers.”

“Don’t you think I could handle a steamer as well as O’Hara?” demanded the Prince, a little nettled by the raillery of the Tritonia.

“Perhaps you could; but you couldn’t find your way to the port named in your orders, according to your own confession.”

“Well, O’Hara hasn’t done it yet.”

“But he will do it, unless there is some good reason to prevent him from doing so.”

This sort of banter continued till the vice-principals came out of the main cabin with Mr. Lowington. The principal of the squadron had listened with the deepest interest to the narration of the subordinate officials. When he was informed that thirty-one of the students were on board of the steamer, on their way to the Madeiras, or roaming at their own pleasure over the ocean, he looked very anxious and troubled. The fact that Mr. Frisbone was with them afforded him some relief.

“I am rather sorry that one of you had not gone with them,” added he, fixing his gaze upon the cabin floor.

“Possibly one of us might, if our experience on the day we sailed from Gibraltar had not taught us better,” replied Mr. Fluxion; who, as the senior vice-principal, was responsible for all that had been done after the Ville d’Angers overhauled the Josephine. “I thought Mr. Pelham was very indiscreet to leave his vessel, even to board mine on business, and I was not disposed to have the mistake repeated.”

This statement brought in the earlier history of the eventful cruise, and the junior vice-principal delivered the letter from Judge Rodwood to the principal. He read it, and then listened to the account of Tom Speers’s running away from the fortune in store for him.

“The judge can have Speers as soon as he wants him,” added Mr. Lowington. “A student with three millions behind him, and a letter of credit for four thousand dollars in his pocket, is a nuisance.”

“I think not, sir, in this case,” interposed Mr. Pelham. “Speers is a very ambitious young man: he jumped from the steerage to first master of the Tritonia and contrived to avoid going to London to meet Judge Rodwood because he was not willing to leave the vessel. He desires to finish his course; and there is not a better sailor or a more faithful student in the squadron.”

“I am glad to hear you speak so well of him; but this letter contains a request that he be discharged from the academy, and be sent to London. I am asked to telegraph that he is on his way.”

“It is too late to do any thing of that kind now,” added Mr. Pelham. “Speers did not open the letter which enclosed this one till the Tritonia was at sea; and he did not open the telegraph despatch for the reason that he did not believe it was for him.”

“He has managed it very well. This letter contains a request from his former and from his present guardian; but the young man is not here, and I cannot discharge him. Should I do so, it is not probable that he would find his guardian in London if I sent him there: I shall therefore do nothing till I receive further instructions,” continued the principal. “But this is a matter of little consequence compared with the cruise of this French steamer.”

Again the principal inquired into all the circumstances of the parting of the vessels in the fog. Both of the vice-principals assured him that the captain of the Ville d’Angers was an entirely reliable student in every respect, and that he was too high-toned to go off on an independent cruise.

“I supposed the steamer had got in ahead of us while we were standing to the southward, and that we should find her in Funchal on our arrival,” explained Mr. Fluxion.

“If that were the case, she ought to have been here yesterday,” replied the principal. “What do you suppose can have detained her?”

“I can imagine a dozen circumstances which may have delayed her, and none of them may be the proper explanation,” answered the senior vice-principal. “There was a smart gale in the night, after we parted; but I can hardly conceive of such a thing as the Ville d’Angers, which was a nearly new vessel, and seaworthy in every respect, foundering in such a light storm. She may have broken her shaft, or deranged her machinery.”

“That would compel her to come in under sail,” suggested the principal.

“She is well found in every respect; for I directed Shakings to overhaul her, and report to me. But it may take her two or three days longer than it has the schooners to get here. The officers may have had trouble with the foreign firemen, for I think they were a desperate set of villains. But Mr. Frisbone, Shakings, Rimmer, the cook, and two stewards, make six full-grown men; and some of the students are about equal to able-bodied men: so that, if there has been a fight on board, I am confident our side has got the best of it,” continued Mr. Fluxion, who was a muscular Christian, and rather enjoyed the idea of reducing the firemen to a proper state of subjection if they attempted to put on airs.

“Raymond, the fourth officer, is as brave a fellow as ever trod a deck; and I will match him against any two of those firemen,” added Mr. Pelham, who also had some taste for a fight in a good cause.

“I sincerely hope that nothing of the kind has occurred on board of the steamer,” said Mr. Lowington, who was thoroughly a man of peace, and justified no fighting that could possibly be avoided.

“I don’t think any thing of the kind has occurred, and I mentioned it only as a possibility. It is more probable that some derangement of the machinery of the vessel had delayed her; and I shall expect her to come into port within two or three days,” continued Mr. Fluxion. “In the mean time, the students on board are pursuing their studies, so that there will be no time lost.”

The vice-principals returned to their respective vessels; but the principal could not help being very anxious for the safety of the thirty-one students on board of the Ville d’Angers. Possibly he was not so confident as his junior officers that the young men had not gone “on a lark” in the vessel. While this conversation was going on, the signal, “All hands attend lecture,” had been displayed on board of the steamer. All the boats were in the water, and the students were soon assembled in the American Prince. As usual, there was a large map of the country to be described, hung where all the pupils could see it. In this instance it was a map of the Madeira Islands, drawn on a large scale by the professor himself. Mr. Mapps stood by it with a long pointer in his hand, when the students took their places.

“The Madeiras are a group of five islands,” the professor began, flourishing the pointer over the map to attract the attention of his audience. “They are some six hundred miles from Lisbon, four hundred from the nearest part of the African coast, and five hundred from the nearest of the Azores. The principal island is called Madeira, from which Porto Santo, the only other island of any importance, is only thirty-five miles distant. The other three islands are called the Desertas: they are merely uninhabited rocks.

“Madeira and Porto Santo contain an area of three hundred and seventeen square miles, which is equal to about one-fourth of the State of Rhode Island; and contain a population of one hundred and sixteen thousand inhabitants, or about half that of the same State.

“Both of the inhabited islands are mountainous in their structure, and are mostly bordered by steep cliffs on the sea. Soundings are obtained by the ordinary deep-sea lead only close to the shore; and even there the water is over two hundred feet deep. Though the island is of volcanic origin, only one crater is to be found in the mountains. The greatest elevation is about six thousand feet.

“Funchal is the principal town, and has about twenty thousand inhabitants. Its principal business is in wine and fruit. In later years the vine has failed to a great extent, and the commerce of the island has been greatly reduced. Many of the inhabitants are in a state of destitution; and beggars are more common here than in most of the countries of Europe.

“These islands, as well as the Western, or Azores, are dependencies of the kingdom of Portugal. They are represented in the legislature of that country, and have, besides, a local government of their own. The currency of the islands is the same as that of Portugal; and you will find here most of the manners and customs of that country. Possibly some of you will think you have been here before. The city, like Messina in Sicily, which you will remember, is built on a small plain, watered by three little streams that rise in the interior of the island, or on the surrounding hills. Indeed, the island is very like Sicily.

“One of the great natural curiosities of Madeira is the Coural, or Curral, as different writers call it. It is an immense chasm, with perpendicular sides, thirteen hundred feet deep. It is near the middle of the island; and, if the time permits, I believe you will take a walk to it; for there are no carriages in the country, or any roads that are practicable for them. People who can not or will not walk have to be transported by manpower. In some parts they slide down the steep hills on sleds, as boys coast on the snow at home. The roads most travelled are paved with cobble-stones, or the heavy rains would wash them entirely away; and they are thus made the smoother for the sleds. A kind of sled, called a ‘buey cart,’ drawn by oxen, is also used to some extent. A hammock swung on a long pole, the ends of which are borne on the shoulders of two men, would seem to be the most natural conveyance for a sailor.

“You will have an opportunity to see the country and the city for yourselves, and I will not describe them to you. The people are very gentlemanly and polite, though I believe they are no more given to hard work than the natives of the mother country. The island is a great resort for invalids, especially those with pulmonary complaints; and the same is true of the Azores. The average temperature is sixty-four degrees. A hot south-west wind, which comes over from the great desert of Africa, sometimes carries the mercury up to eighty degrees, though the heat in summer rarely exceeds seventy. But the quality of the climate depends upon the uniformity of its temperature. There are no sudden changes; and one month will not differ from the one before more than two or three degrees. But Dr. Winstock, who spent a winter in the island, informs me that he has seen some very disagreeable weather here.”

Professor Mapps finished his brief lecture, leaving much to be learned by the students in their walks about the city and the island. The boats of the Tritonia and Josephine returned; and what was left of the day was used by the officers and seamen in looking at the strange sights that might be seen from the decks of the vessels.

As the squadron was to remain some days at Funchal, study and recitations were not entirely suspended; but, as both watches could be engaged at the same time, the full routine was completed at one o’clock, and the rest of the day was improved on shore. Dr. Winstock took under his care for the excursion, Sheridan and Murray of the Prince, and Wainwright and Scott of the Tritonia.

“This is a rough harbor for a commercial town,” said Capt. Sheridan, as he landed from the boat, and looked back to survey the beach, on which the sea was breaking with considerable force.

“It is a very poor harbor,” replied the doctor. “Sometimes the sea is so high in the roadstead, that it is not safe for vessels to lie at anchor; and a government boat goes to them, and advises them to get to sea.”

“What sort of a boat do you call that?” asked Scott, as he pointed to a very handsome barge near the shore. “The sailors have coalhods, with marline spikes sticking out of the tops.”

“That is a government boat, as you may see by the uniform of the officers in it. The cap of the boatmen looks something like an inverted tunnel. But they have a nice time of it under that awning.”

The doctor’s party by his advice had decided to use their first half-day on shore in making a visit to the church of “Nossa Senhora do Monte,” or “Our Lady of the Mountain,” which is located on a hill nearly two thousand feet above the sea. The place affords a beautiful view of Funchal and its surroundings. It was an up-hill walk; but most of the ascent was gradual, though a portion of it was very steep. On the way they had an opportunity to see some of the modes of conveyance mentioned by the professor of geography and history.

“It don’t seem to me that I should feel very comfortable to have men carrying me about the island,” said Murray, as he stopped to see one of the hammocks, which was not unlike a palanquin. “I should feel as though I were a burden upon my own kind.”

“They have very good horses here, though they are rather small,--about the size of those they use for the ascent of Mount Vesuvius.”

At last the church was reached after a most fatiguing tramp, for the students had not got on their land legs. Most of the way, the road, paved with cobble-stones, was enclosed by a wall over which none of the party were tall enough to see; and this made the walk dismal at times, though they always had a view when looking behind them. But this wall was covered with vines; and, as it was springtime, the air was laden with the perfume of flowers.

There is nothing about the church worth seeing; and the business of the day was concluded by ascending one of the two towers that crown the building, where the party remained till sunset. The church faces the sea; and from the elevated tower a panorama of a portion of the city and a great deal of magnificent scenery was spread out before the observers; and they returned to their vessels delighted with the excursion.

Mr. Lowington was pacing the quarter-deck of the Prince when the students returned; and it was observed that he cast frequent glances to seaward in search of the missing steamer, but she did not put in an appearance in the offing that night.