CHAPTER XVI.

THE WINE-ROOM OF THE VILLE D’ANGERS.

The Ville d’Angers had been under way hardly an hour when the quartermaster in the pilot-house struck eight bells; and the first part of the port-watch was called to relieve the second part of the starboard. Gregory was the officer of this division, as Raymond had been of the last.

“North, half east,” said Raymond, giving the course to his successor in charge of the vessel.

“North, half east!” exclaimed Gregory; and though it was his duty to repeat the course as it was given to him, in order to prevent any mistake, it was not necessary for him to say it with such a tone of disgust.

“That’s the course we have been running for the last hour,” replied Raymond quietly. “The officer of the deck will keep a sharp lookout for the tow.”

“For the tow?” queried Gregory, as the fourth officer repeated the orders which were required to be given to his successor in charge of the deck. “What do you mean by the tow?”

“Of course you are aware that the steamer is towing the hulk of the Castle William?”

“I was not aware of it,” answered Gregory. “When I turned in at four bells last night, the steamer was headed to the southward and westward.”

“We returned to the wreck before three, after an unsuccessful search for the rest of the fleet. We took the Castle William in tow; and now we are bound for Portsmouth, England. If you were not informed in regard to the movements of the steamer, I think you were the only officer on board who was in the dark.”

Gregory and Clinch were jealous of the officers of the Tritonia. They had begun to object in the first of the cruise, and even before the steamer was under way. They had kept out of sight of the other officers, and had avoided the captain as far as they could. Gregory had been in charge when the steamer started for the south, after the fog lifted. O’Hara had tried to talk with him; but he was so stiff and distant that the captain gave it up, and allowed him to live within his own shell. He had been relieved by Clinch at ten in the evening; and the third officer was no more inclined to be sociable than the first.

At midnight Speers had been called, and, as soon as he took the trumpet, the course of the steamer had been changed to the northward again. In the last half of this watch, when Raymond had the deck, the wreck had been taken in tow. The captain remained on deck long enough to ascertain that the Ville d’Angers was making ten knots an hour, with the ship in tow; and he hoped in the morning to do even better than this. Thus it turned out that Gregory and Clinch knew nothing of the destination of the steamer.

Possibly Gregory was as much astonished as he pretended to be, when Raymond told him the vessel was bound to England. He had certainly been ugly ever since he came on board. It seemed to him in the beginning, that O’Hara ignored him in re-organizing the watches, and especially in not speaking to him about the quarter-watches. But then, he was looking for a cause of offence; and those who look for it are sure to find it.

“Though I am the first officer of the steamer, I have not been consulted about any thing,” replied Gregory, in answer to Raymond’s remark.

“I do not know that any of the officers have been consulted,” added Raymond, who did not like the attitude of Gregory.

“I suppose I was ignored because I came from the Josephine. The Tritonia’s officers seem to be in the ascendant on board of this vessel,” continued Gregory, in the most forbidding of tones.

“I don’t think it can make any difference what vessel the officers came from.”

“Tell that to the marines! isn’t the captain hand and glove with Speers, the second officer? Are they not together all the time they can be?” demanded the irate watch-officer.

“I think Speers has been consulted no more than you or I have,” replied Raymond, moving away from the pilot-house; for he saw that it was of no use to argue the point with one so unreasonable as Gregory showed himself to be.

“Hold on a minute, Mr. Raymond,” interposed the discontented officer. “Do you think it is right for the captain to disregard his orders, and take the steamer to England?”

“The captain can answer that question for himself, and I cannot answer it for him,” replied Raymond. “All I have to do is to obey my orders.”

“Suppose he should take it into his head to run for the South Sea Islands on a pleasure-excursion: should you feel it to be your duty to obey orders without a protest, and go with him?” demanded Gregory.

“The captain is not doing any thing of that sort, and there is no need of answering conundrums,” replied Raymond warmly. “This is a case of life and death with thirty-two people on board of the wreck; and it has been decided by the captain, after consultation with all the adults on board, to tow the hulk to Portsmouth.”

“But it is a thousand miles to England.”

“It is more than that; but, if it were three thousand, I should obey orders all the same.”

“I don’t think we are justified in obeying orders under such circumstances,” continued Gregory. “I think Mr. Fluxion will blame you and me if we assist in sailing the steamer off on this long voyage, when the orders were to take the vessel to the Madeiras.”

“Of course you have a right to your own opinion, Mr. Gregory,” added Raymond coldly. “Good-morning.”

The fourth officer left the pilot-house, where the conversation had been carried on in the presence of the quartermaster and the seaman who were steering the steamer. He was sorry he had listened so long to the malecontent; and, as he walked aft, he debated with himself whether or not he ought to wake the captain, and inform him of the mutinous sentiments uttered by the first officer. But Gregory had taken the trumpet, and had not yet declined to obey the orders of the captain as transmitted to him by his predecessor in charge; and he concluded to say nothing that might place him in the position of a tale-bearer. He turned in; but, as he had had his full six hours of sleep, he lay awake thinking of what Gregory had said to him.

Gregory wanted to do something; and, by diligent thinking, he had fully persuaded himself that the course taken by Capt. O’Hara was all wrong. In the first place, he was exposing the ship’s company to the perils of contagion; and, in the second, he was disregarding his orders to take the steamer to Madeira in the event that she should part company with the schooners. He concluded that these were the orders, though he had not heard the senior vice-principal give the instructions to the commander of the steamer.

“I think you are quite right, Mr. Gregory,” said the quartermaster at the wheel, after Raymond had gone. “If the truth were known, Capt. Fairfield is of the same mind. I know the fellows from the Josephine don’t like the idea of breathing the air from that floating hospital for the next week or ten days; nor of going off on a cruise two or three weeks, wherever Mr. O’Hara or the Tritonia chooses to take them.”

Gregory listened to this long speech without saying a word. The sentiments were his own; but they were mutinous in their nature, and he ought to have reproved the quartermaster for speaking to his superior officer in such terms of the captain.

“How were we going when the log was heaved last?” asked the first officer, taking no notice of the speech of the man at the wheel.

“Ten and a half, sir,” replied Stokes.

Gregory went aft, calling for the watch on the forecastle to follow him, and heaved the log. To his astonishment, the Ville d’Angers was making eleven knots. The firemen were evidently doing their best. He had heard Mr. Frisbone say that the steamer would make fifteen knots under favorable circumstances, and that she had done it most of the time before the collision. At this rate she would be in Portsmouth in five days. He looked at the hulk astern, and saw that she carried the square sail she had rigged on the jury-mast, and the wind was fresh enough to help her along a knot or two an hour.

Gregory examined the tow-line, as he had been instructed to do, and found it all right so far as he was able to judge. When he had complied so far with the routine of the vessel and with his orders, he went forward to the engine-room. Alexander was on duty there; and he was the only one of the Tritonia’s ship’s company on the watch in charge of the steamer. Mr. Fluxion and Mr. Pelham had agreed that officers and seamen from each vessel should be in the same watch, so far as it was practicable; and this arrangement would remove any possible danger of quarrelling and disagreement among the students from the different craft. This had been done; but the rule could not be applied to the engineers, for both of them belonged to the Tritonia. But the “greasers,” one from each quarter, belonged to the regular watch.

“Good-morning, Mr. Gregory,” said the chief engineer, with a yawn, as the first officer stepped into the engine-room.

“Good-morning, Mr. Alexander,” replied Gregory coldly, as he invariably spoke to all the officers of the Tritonia. “You have on a big head of steam.”

“The firemen have done very well since I came on watch,” answered the engineer, with another yawn.

He had not been careful to improve all his opportunities for sleep, as a sailor should, and as the students had learned to do when on regular duty, and had not turned in till after ten o’clock in the evening; and he had been called at twelve. In the force of engineers the steamer was short-handed; and the watch was changed at six and twelve, night and day; and this bill had been adopted at the request of the engineers themselves, so that they could find no fault with it.

“We are making eleven knots; and that’s high speed for a steamer towing a six-hundred-ton ship,” added Gregory, who was really sorry to find the engine doing so well.

“So much the sooner this voyage will be over,” answered Alexander; and then he yawned again, for he had not slept more than those two hours out of the last twenty-four.

“Why, don’t you like it?” asked Gregory, not a little astonished to hear a Tritonian express even a hint of being dissatisfied.

“I can’t say I do,” replied Alexander, with a heavy gape; “at least, I have had about enough of it, as the thing is going now. A fellow can’t stand it without his sleep. I have to keep my eye on that gauge all the time; and it is with the utmost difficulty that I can keep my peepers open.”

Alexander gaped again, and Gregory seated himself by his side.

“It is rather rough on you to serve these six-hour watches,” added the first officer.

“I shouldn’t have minded it for a short cruise; but I didn’t ship as an engineer for a trip to England and back.”

“I suppose Richards likes it, don’t he?” Gregory proceeded, anxious to obtain more information in regard to the sentiments of the engineers.

“He is more discontented than I am. He is growling all the time; and he was downright mad when he learned that the recitations were to be carried on to-morrow, just as they are in all the vessels of the squadron. I shall be in a pretty condition to study my lessons, after this watch is finished. I shall turn in as soon as I get my breakfast, and sleep till noon, when I have to take my place in the engine-room again. How am I to keep up with the class, and run this machine twelve hours a day?”

“You can’t do it, of course.”

“No more can Richards. He came within one of slipping out of the cabin on the first of the month, when Speers came in from the steerage; and he wants to make his election sure next time.”

“It is a hard case for both of you. But I suppose you volunteered for this duty?”

“Richards and I were the only fellows who knew any thing about an engine, and we were really forced to volunteer,” yawned Alexander. “I wish we were on our way to Madeira, instead of on a trip to England.”

“What is the matter with these fellows down in the fire-room?” asked Gregory, whose attention had been attracted several times during the conversation, by the singing and laughing of the men at the fires.

“They seem to be very jolly to-night for some reason or other,” replied the engineer, gaping fearfully as his drowsiness gained upon him.

The first officer wondered why the men were so jolly at that early hour in the morning; and to satisfy himself he went down into the fire-room. After he had taken a few steps upon the iron stairs, he saw one of the Frenchmen strike off the neck of a bottle with a bar of iron. He poured the contents of the bottle into several tin cups, and passed them to his companions, retaining one for himself. The liquid was very red; and the officer had no doubt it was claret wine, such as is usually furnished to the passengers on board of French steamers.

The men drank off the contents of the tin cups, and then began to sing with renewed energy. It was the quantity of wine they had drank, which made the men so jolly. He was confident that it had not been furnished by the officers or the stewards; and it was plain enough that the foreigners had found it in the hold of the vessel.

Gregory spoke French well enough to do his part in carrying on an ordinary conversation in that language; and, descending into the fire-room, he asked the Frenchmen where they had obtained the wine. The men had drank too much to be disturbed by any common event; and they all laughed heartily at the question. The three Frenchmen were on duty, and Pierre spoke for them.

“You are not the captain?” said he, looking the first officer over from head to foot.

“No: I am the officer of the deck,” replied Gregory.

“Plenty of wine in this vessel,” said Pierre, laughing again as though he was the happiest mortal in existence.

The other two men threw open the furnace-doors, and began to shovel in the coal at a furious rate. But the officer observed that they kept an eye on the draughts, and used all the precautions against fire or injury to the boilers, doubtless doing so from the sheer force of habit.

“Where did you get the wine?” repeated Gregory, as the fellow did not answer him.

“Very good wine!” exclaimed Pierre, taking another bottle from one of the coal-bunkers, and breaking off the neck as he had done before. “Try some of it;” and he handed the bottle to the officer.

The first officer of the Ville d’Angers, though he had been a good seaman and a good scholar for a considerable time, was not one of the “chaplain’s lambs,” as the good boys were called by the bad ones. He had no conscientious or other scruples against drinking a glass of wine, or even a bottle, as he had done when the eyes of the professors were not upon him.

Gregory took the bottle; but he was not inclined to drink out of the dirty tin cup of the firemen, or to cut his lips with the glass of the broken bottle. The fireman saw his difficulty, and then disappeared for a moment, returning with a clean tumbler, which he had evidently taken from the mess-room forward of the engine on deck. He handed it to the officer with the greatest show of deference and politeness. Gregory filled the glass, and drank it off, though it was a heavy dram for a young man of his years.

“Where did you get it?” asked the officer.

Instead of answering the question, Pierre took a lantern which hung at the entrance of the port bunker, and led the way along the machinery of the engine to a small door which opened into the after-hold. On each side of the engine was a store-room; and Pierre took a key from his pocket, and opened one of them. Gregory saw that it was the wine-room of the steamer. Upon skids on the floor were several casks; and above them were bins filled with bottles containing “vin ordinaire,” or common claret. On the other side were more bins, filled with other kinds of wine.

“Plenty of wine,” said Pierre, as he pointed with entire satisfaction to the display of bottles. “This is the best;” and he took one from the bin he pointed at.

Gregory read the label on the bottle, and understood the matter well enough to realize that it was a kind of Burgundy, much stronger than claret. He took a couple of the bottles from the bin, and put them in the pockets of his pea-jacket.

“Give me that key, Pierre,” said Gregory.

“No! no! no!” protested the Frenchman, with the greatest earnestness.

Certainly Pierre had given his confidence to the officer without any reserve; but he had done so only after he had partaken of the wine offered him. Whether Pierre had any Arabian notions about hospitality, and believed that Gregory could not betray him after drinking out of the same bottle; or whether he thought that the officer could not misuse his secret after he had shared in the guilt by partaking of the stolen fruit, or the juice of it,--or not,--cannot be imagined; but he seemed to be as free with his officer as though he had been one of his companions in the fire-room.

But Pierre had an opinion of his own in regard to the key; and he positively refused to give it up. Gregory began to feel the effects of the strong Burgundy in his head, for he could not carry off a whole tumbler of it without being fearfully shaken in his upper works. He felt the need of fresh air; for the hold was hot from the furnaces. He tottered back by the way he had come, followed by Pierre, who was evidently assured that he had made a friend of the first officer of the steamer, and that was almost as good as securing an alliance with the captain. The Frenchman assisted the officer of the deck out of the hold, for his steps were becoming more and more unsteady as the fumes of the wine rose in his head.

“What is the row down in the fire-room?” asked Alexander, as the tipsy officer appeared in the engine-room.

“Nothing particular,” replied Gregory, trying to stiffen the tones of his voice, which he could not help realizing were very shaky. “The Frenchmen feel good, and that makes them sing and talk loud; but they are so far from the cabin that they can’t be heard, and won’t disturb any one. Do you know whether there is any wine on board?” asked Gregory.

“I don’t think there is; but I wish there were some, for I think a little of it would wake me up,” replied Alexander.

“Wait a minute, then,” added the first officer as he stepped out of the engine-room, and went to the mess-room, where a lunch was kept on the table for the benefit of the officers and seamen of the watch. Drawing the cork of one of the bottles, and taking a tumbler from the table, he hastened back to the engine-room as fast as his shaky legs would permit, and poured out a glass of the rich Burgundy, and offered it to the chief engineer.

“What’s this?” asked Alexander, taking the glass.

“You said you wished there was some wine on board, and that a little of it would wake you up,” added Gregory. “Here it is;” and he spilled a part of it on the floor as the steamer gave a smart roll.

Alexander took the glass, though he had some serious doubts about drinking it. He had very rarely drank wine; he very rarely had a chance to drink it; but if it would wake the firemen, as the noise indicated that it did,--for he was not so stupid as not to understand what produced the unusual hilarity when Gregory came out of the fire-room, and offered him a glass of wine,--it would have the same effect on him. Still he hesitated till one of his longest gapes had nearly choked him; and then he drank off the contents of the glass.

“Now we are in for it together!” exclaimed Gregory, when the engineer had tipped off the red draught.

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Alexander, who did not exactly like the words, or the chuckle that accompanied them.

“Give us your hand, Mr. Alexander! we are friends now, if you do belong to the Tritonia,” said the malecontent, with a laugh, for the liquor was beginning to make him a little excitable.

The engineer could not well refuse his hand, and he gave it to the jolly officer of the deck. Gregory left the engine-room, and went to the mess-room. It was lighted, and he found a hiding-place for the two bottles of wine. He walked about the deck in the fresh air of the night; and he felt happy and contented for the time, and not at all inclined to foment a mutiny. When four bells were struck, and Clinch reported to him to relieve the deck, he let him into the secret, and gave him a tumbler of the Burgundy. He took another at the same time, and turned in without waiting to observe the effect upon the third officer.