CHAPTER XIV.

THE WRECK OF THE CASTLE WILLIAM.

The sound of the bell was heard again in a few minutes. It had a heavy and dull tone, unlike that of the bells of the schooners. All hands on the Ville d’Angers listened attentively to the sound.

“I think it must be the bell of one of the consorts,” said Capt. O’Hara, when he had heard the bell at least a dozen times.

“It don’t sound like the bell of the Tritonia,” replied Tom Speers, after he had heard it once more. “And all the sounds are from the same bell. If the two schooners were off in that direction, we should hear the bells of both of them.”

“I’ll tell you what it is: the fog makes the difference in the sound from what we are accustomed to hear. We never heard the bell except when we were on the deck where it was rung. It stands to reason that it would be another thing when heard at a distance, and in a thick fog,” continued the captain, who wished the sound might come from the consorts, and was influenced by his desire.

The sound seemed to be a long way off; and the captain said it bothered him to know how they happened to hear it when it was so far off. He called Mr. Shakings and Capt. Fairfield, and asked them to give their opinion in regard to the tones of the bell. They did not think it was the bell of the Josephine, to which they were more accustomed to listen on board; but it might be, for bells sounded different under varying circumstances. At last O’Hara decided to run for the sound of the bell, and directed the officer of the deck to change the course to north, for this was the direction from which the sound came.

Capt. O’Hara could not reconcile himself to the sound of the bell; but he thought, as had been suggested, that the condition of the atmosphere might alter the tone of the Tritonia’s bell. He concluded that the schooners had fallen off their course as the wind veered, and the Ville d’Angers had run ahead of them. This was the only explanation he could give; and, in the absence of a better one, it satisfied him for the time. The firemen did their duty now, though Shakings showed himself to them once in a while so that they need not forget him.

Every thing seemed to be going well on board, and a sharp lookout was kept for the rest of the fleet ahead. The bell to the northward sounded more and more distinctly as the steamer advanced; and the nearer she came to it, the louder it sounded.

“That can’t be the bell of the Tritonia,” said Tom Speers, as he met the captain on the poop-deck.

“Begorra, I don’t believe it is!” exclaimed O’Hara, in whose mind the question had been raised anew. “Upon my sowl, it is big enough for a church-bell; and we have come nearer to it than we were when we first heard it.”

“It must be some other vessel,” added Speers. “It isn’t a steamer, or she would whistle in such a fog as this.”

“No: sure it’s not a steamer; and what the blazes is it?” queried the captain, very much puzzled. “I hope we shall not miss the rest of the fleet.”

“I hope not; but, if the schooners stood down to the southward, we have very little chance of seeing them again, unless this fog lifts soon,” replied Speers.

“Have you seen Gregory and Clinch since the ship’s company was stationed?” asked O’Hara, suddenly changing the topic of the conversation, though he did not cease to peer into the dense fog ahead.

“Neither of them has been on deck since the second part of the starboard watch took the deck,” answered Speers.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know. They went into the cabin, and I suppose they are there now. They have a state-room together.”

“I don’t quite like the conduct of Gregory, who is the first officer,” added O’Hara, in a low tone. “He took the trouble to tell me he did not approve the arrangement of the watches as I had made it.”

“I dare say he will assent to it,” added Tom. “I don’t know him at all, and never served in the same vessel with him.”

“He used to be a mighty hard boy at the time he was in the steerage of the Young America; but when he got into the Josephine, he reformed; and Mr. Fluxion believes he has made a man of him. Perhaps he has: I don’t know. If he has, there has been a big change in him.”

“Let us hope he will be a good officer while he is on board of the steamer.”

“Certainly we will hope so; but it was a bad beginning for him to object to the arrangement of the watches before he had been on board two hours.”

“What does he object to?” asked Tom Speers; and he was willing to believe there might be something wrong about the arrangement, for it would not be at all strange if a mistake had been made.

Tom thought it might be possible that his friend the captain had been just a little “airy” in his dealings with the two officers from the Josephine, though he had never noticed any thing of the kind in O’Hara while they had been together in the steamer. Such an exhibition would not be very remarkable in a young man, placed in command of a steamer with the arbitrary control of thirty of his companions. He was determined to caution his friend in regard to the manifestation of any thing that could be construed into an overbearing or domineering spirit. He knew very well from experience, that such an appearance would excite opposition, if there was none in the beginning.

“What does he object to?” repeated O’Hara. “He says he objects to the arrangement of the watches.”

“What did you say to him?” asked Tom curiously, if not anxiously.

“I only told him I was sorry he didn’t like it,” replied the captain, smiling, as though he thought he had answered the complaint very properly.

“Did he say any thing more?”

“Yes, he did: he added that he didn’t think there was any need of quarter-watches,” chuckled O’Hara; “and Clinch took the trouble to say he didn’t think so either: as if he considered it important that I should know the first and third officer were of the same mind on the subject.”

O’Hara talked and chuckled and laughed like one who felt that he occupied a strong position. He was quite happy over it; for, if there was to be any trouble on board, he was altogether in the right, and the other party all in the wrong.

“What did you say then?” inquired Tom Speers, desiring to know whether or not there was any foundation for his fears and suspicion.

“I told them that showed we differed in opinion a little taste; and I smiled as swately as though I was spaking to Miss Louise in the cabin below. And that reminds me to say I think the girl is a little swate on you, Tom, my boy, since you pulled her out of the say,” said the captain, getting excited as he proceeded, and relapsing into his Irish brogue.

“Never mind the girl,” added Tom impatiently, though he blushed a little as he turned away to wipe off the dampness that had gathered on his face from the fog. “I am not one of your romantic pups who think a girl ought to be his wife because he has rendered her some little service.”

“Faix, it was no little service you rendered her; for she was sure to be drowned if you hadn’t got to her with the life-buoy as soon as you did.”

“Never mind that now, Capt. O’Hara,” interposed the young hero.

“Oh! you are not on duty now; and you needn’t measure off your words into lengths with me just now,” said O’Hara, with a laugh.

“Do you think Gregory is discontented?” asked Tom.

“If his words come from his heart, he is; but that is his fault,” replied the captain very lightly. “If he don’t like the arrangement of the watches, he can’t help himself; for I am the commander of this ship.”

“Excuse me, O’Hara, as I am not on duty just now, if I speak to you as a friend.”

“Certainly, my boy: blaze away! I won’t put you in irons for any thing you may say now,” added O’Hara curiously; for he had not the least idea that he had done any thing wrong, or even out of taste.

“Don’t you think it would have been better if you had answered Gregory and Clinch in a little different way?”

“What do you mane? Wasn’t I civil to them? Didn’t I smile as sweetly upon them as though they hadn’t raised a ghost of an objection to the watches?”

“Of course you are the captain, and you were not obliged to make any explanations; but don’t you think it would have been better if you had been a little more conciliatory toward Gregory and Clinch, even if they were a little wrong?” asked Tom.

“Faix, I don’t know: I didn’t think of that,” repeated O’Hara thoughtfully. “They supposed it was my arrangement they were objecting to all the time, when it was the orders of the senior vice-principal himself.”

“So much the worse, if they thought the plan was your own,” added Tom.

“Well, now, I thought it was so much the better!” exclaimed the captain.

“So much the better for you, but so much the worse for Gregory and Clinch,” continued Tom. “Possibly the first officer thought you ought to have consulted with him about the arrangement of the watches. All I mean to say is, that it would have been more magnanimous to have told Gregory, when he objected, that you were only carrying out the orders of the vice-principal.”

“Perhaps you are right, Tom, my darling,” added O’Hara, musing.

“It was not in the midst of an emergency, O’Hara; and he did not refuse to obey orders. If he had, and you had knocked him down, it would have been all right. It is only fair to let the first and third officers know, if they object to any thing, that they are kicking against the senior vice-principal, and not against you,” continued Tom, as sagely as though he was a fit judge to settle a case between his captain and an officer above himself.

“That’s all very well; and I think you are right this time, Tom, if you never were before,” answered O’Hara. “But am I to make a distinction between the enforcement of my own orders and those of the powers above me? If I tell the officer of the deck, and it happens to be Gregory or Clinch, to stop the engine, am I to explain that this is the order of the senior vice-principal, and not my own? or, if it should be my own, to argue that it is all right?”

“Certainly not; nothing of the kind! I said in the beginning that this was a matter of magnanimity, and not of right. Your orders are to be obeyed without a question on the part of any one on board; not even Capt. Fairfield or Mr. Shakings having the right to object.”

“I see: I understand you perfectly, Tom, my darlint; and I am much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken to say all this. Give me your flipper! I like you betther than ever, if you are a millionnaire; for it’s a good friend that will point out another’s faults.”

“I don’t point out your faults, O’Hara. I am afraid, if I were the commander of this steamer, I should be a little ‘airy;’ and I was dreading lest you might be, though, upon my honor, I haven’t seen any thing of the kind in you.”

“It’s moighty aisy y’are on me, Tom; and I believe I have been airy; but, upon my sowl, I’ll never do it again! I like you better than if you had given me the half of your three millions; and I wish you were the captain of the steamer, instead of myself.”

“Nonsense, captain! You are ten times as fit to command her as I am; and I am glad it is as it is.”

“Whisht!”

“Vessel dead ahead!” shouted the lookout, on the jib-boom of the steamer, where the officer of the deck had sent him when the bell began to be heard very distinctly on the forecastle of the steamer.

The officer of the deck hastily repeated the cry, and ordered the quartermaster to put the helm hard down. At the same time he rushed into the pilot-house, and rang the speed-bell for the engine to “slow down.”

“Can you make her out?” said the captain, gazing into the dense fog ahead.

“I don’t see any thing; but we are more than a hundred feet farther from the vessel than the man on the forecastle.”

“I will go forward, then,” added O’Hara, suiting the action to the words.

Tom Speers saw Gregory and Clinch come out of the cabin, and follow the captain forward, and he concluded to remain where he was; for he was off duty, and he did not care to have the other officers of the steamer regard him as the adviser of the captain, if the commander asked him any questions.

The Ville d’Angers slowed down in obedience to the will of the assistant engineer in charge. If the lookout had been less vigilant, the steamer would have struck the vessel ahead square on the broadside, and that would have been the end of her. But Raymond, as the officer of the deck, was always exceedingly careful; and he had spent most of his time at the heel of the bowsprit since the position of the craft was clearly indicated by the sound of the bell. The whistle had been sounded on the steamer at short intervals; and, as it came nearer, the bell was rung more vigorously, so that each vessel had a clear idea of the position of the other.

Gregory and Clinch went forward behind the captain, and they could not help being considerably excited over the prospect of some sort of an adventure. But they said nothing to O’Hara; and it was evident from their actions that they were a little “disgruntled.”

“I believe O’Hara has lost his wits,” said Gregory, in a prudently low tone. “It beats me to know what he is chasing this vessel for, running some miles off the course.”

“I suppose he thought that bell belonged to one of the schooners,” added Clinch.

“It sounds more like one of the bells of the churches of Paris than it does like the Josephine’s; and he might have known that it did not belong to one of the schooners,” growled the first officer.

The captain had certainly allowed the Ville d’Angers to continue on her course to the northward after he and Tom Speers were reasonably confident that the bell did not indicate the presence of the other vessels of the fleet. Possibly O’Hara’s curiosity had been excited, and he wished to see the vessel that rang the heavy bell; but it is more likely, that, in the conversation which ensued, he had forgotten for the moment that the vessel ahead could not be either of those for which he was in search. He desired to satisfy himself, after he had gone so far to the north,--only a few miles, however,--that the bell was not on either of the vessels, and that they had not run off in this direction. By sweeping off a little to the westward, on his return, he might fall into hearing distance of their bells or horns.

“Do you make her out, Mr. Raymond?” asked O’Hara, as he ascended to the top-gallant forecastle.

“Distinctly, sir,” replied the officer of the deck.

“What is she?”

“It seems to be a wreck, with a number of persons on board of her. All her masts have been carried away; she has a square sail rigged on a jury-mast, and is running before the wind,” added Raymond, as he made out the details he mentioned.

“I see her now,” continued O’Hara, as he traced the outline of the vessel through the dense mass of fog which covered the sea.

“We are running by her, sir,” said Raymond. “Shall I stop her?”

“Stop and back her,” replied the captain.

“Ring one bell!” shouted the officer of the deck.

“One bell!” responded the quartermaster in the pilot-house; and he rang it.

“Ring two bells!” added Raymond.

“Two bells!” repeated the man in charge of the wheel; and, when he rang them, the screw began to turn backwards.

“Stop her!” said O’Hara, when he judged that her headway was overcome.

“Ring one bell!” added Raymond.

“One bell, sir!” echoed the quartermaster; and the engine stopped.

While this was done on board of the steamer, the hands on the wreck let go the halyard of the square sail, and it came down on the deck. The hulk was moving so slowly that it forged only a little ahead of the Ville d’Angers, leaving her on the weather quarter of the deck. From the top-gallant forecastle of the steamer, the officers had a tolerably clear view of the dismasted vessel, which might have been a ship or a barque, for the stumps of her three masts could be distinctly seen. She was painted green, and looked like a very old vessel, for her bow was as stunt-built as the craft of a hundred years ago.

“Hail her, Mr. Raymond, and let us ascertain what we can of her,” said Capt. O’Hara.

“Ship ahoy!” shouted the officer of the deck, through the speaking-trumpet which had been supplied by Mr. Fluxion; for this instrument meant twice as much to him as to any other officer in the squadron.

“On board the steamer!” replied a man on the deck of the hulk.

“What vessel is that?”

“The ship Castle William, from Calcutta to Portsmouth, with invalid troops!” yelled the man on the deck of the wreck; and there seemed to be not more than three men on duty there.

“Tell him we will send a boat on board,” said the captain; and Raymond repeated the words.

“Don’t do it!” shouted the man earnestly. “We have small-pox and typhoid-fever on board.”

“Phew! here’s a nice kettle of fish!” exclaimed O’Hara.

“Keep to windward, and come a little nearer!” called the spokesman of the wreck.

The captain gave the necessary orders to back the Ville d’Angers, and run up a little nearer to the wreck. Taking the suggestion of the man on the hulk, he thought there would not be any danger in going to windward of her.

“Do you hear that, Clinch?” said Gregory, with no little excitement in his manner. “There is small-pox and typhoid-fever on board of that wreck; and O’Hara is going to get nearer to her.”

“I don’t like the idea,” added Clinch.

“Capt. O’Hara, I protest against going any nearer to that vessel!” said Gregory, walking up to the captain, and touching his cap as he spoke. “She has contagious diseases on board of her; and we shall all take them.”

“There is no danger, I think, while we keep well to windward of her. The breeze is pretty fresh, and I don’t believe the disease can travel up against it,” replied O’Hara, mindful of what had passed between Tom Speers and himself, though he was at first inclined to make no reply to the protest.

“I don’t think it is safe: I protest, and insist that the steamer be put on her course to the Madeiras!” added Gregory, in a very offensive manner.

“Shall we abandon this wreck, without even ascertaining whether or not she needs any assistance?” demanded O’Hara, with some indignation in his tones.

“You need not go any nearer to her, at any rate,” replied Gregory, somewhat shaken by this argument; for all the students had been thoroughly schooled in the lesson of humanity, that every sailor was bound to assist every other sailor in distress.

The captain made no further reply to the first officer. Possibly he did not run the steamer as near to the wreck, for he directed the course, as he might have done if Gregory had said nothing.

The Ville d’Angers was stopped on the quarter of the wreck, and at about half a cable’s length from it.

“How many have you on board?” asked O’Hara, taking the trumpet from the officer of the deck.

“Thirty-two,” replied the spokesman of the wreck.

“Are you the captain?”

“No; he is down with fever: I am the mate.”

“How many sick have you?”

“All but three men,--myself and two seamen. Five of the crew have died, and eight are sick.”

It appeared from the answers of the mate, that the Castle William had left Calcutta with a crew of sixteen, including the officers. She had in her steerage twenty-one disabled soldiers, among whom the typhoid-fever had broken out after she left St. Helena, where she had put in for supplies. At this place she had received a sailor to work his passage; and, when the ship had been out a week, he was taken down with the small-pox. They had made a place for him in the head; but five of the crew had already died with this disease and the fever. Six more were sick with the fever, and two with the small-pox.

Certainly it was a terrible state of things on board of the wreck, which had been short-handed, and was thrown on her beam-ends in the recent gale, or hurricane the mate called it. The three men had cut away the masts, and this had righted her.