Outward Bound Or, Young America Afloat: A Story of Travel and Adventure, Optic [best non fiction books of all time txt] 📗

thumped violently against the pine boards, or was roused by the fear of being tumbled out of his berth.

Mr. Lowington comprehended the situation of the students, and when the topsails and courses had been reefed, he called up all the stewards, and sent them through the after cabin and steerage, to ascertain the condition of the boys, and to give them the benefit of certain expedients known to old voyagers for such occasions. Jacobs, the steward of the after cabin, entered to perform his duty. He had no light, not even a lantern; for fire is so terrible a calamity at sea, that every lamp was extinguished by the stewards at ten o'clock, and no light was allowed, except in the binnacle, without the special permission of the principal Even the captain could not allow a lamp to be lighted after hours.

Jacobs went to all the state rooms on the port side first, and pulled up the berth sacks above the front of the bunks, so as to form a kind of wall, to keep the occupant from rolling out. A bundle of clothing was placed on the inside of the berth, and the body was thus wedged in, so as to afford some relief to the {236} unstable form. Pelham's room was the second one on the starboard side, and Jacobs came to it at last, in his humane mission. He opened the door, and started back with unfeigned astonishment to see the lamp lighted, and the fourth lieutenant puffing his cigar as leisurely as the violent motion of the ship would permit.

"Contrary to regulation, sir," said Jacobs, respectfully as he touched his cap to the reckless officer.

"Take yourself off, Jacobs," replied Pelham, coarsely and rudely.

"Yes, sir."

Jacobs did take himself off, and hastened on deck to inform Mr. Lowington of the conduct of the infatuated officer.

The principal immediately presented himself. Pelham had fully believed, in his self-willed obstinacy, that he could look Mr. Lowington full in the face, and impudently defy him. He found that he was mistaken. The experience of Shuffles in the hands of the boatswain and carpenter would intrude itself upon him, and he quailed when the principal opened the door and gazed sternly into his face.

"Smoking, Mr. Pelham?"

"Yes, sir," replied the rebel, with an attempt to be cool and impudent, which, however, was a signal failure.

"You will put out that cigar, and throw it away."

"I will; I've smoked enough," answered Pelham.

"Your light is burning, contrary to regulation."

"The ship rolls so, I should break my neck without one," replied Pelham, sourly. {237}

"That is a weak plea for a sailor to make. Mr. Pelham, I confess my surprise to find one who has done so well engaged in acts of disobedience."

The reckless officer could make no reply; if the reproof had been given in presence of others, he would probably have retorted, prompted by a false, foolish pride to "keep even" with the principal.

"For smoking, you will lose ten marks; for lighting your lamp, ten more," added the principal.

"You might as well send me into the steerage at once," answered Pelham.

"If either offence is repeated, that will be done. You will put out your light at once."

The fourth lieutenant obeyed the order because he did not dare to disobey it; the fear of the muscular boatswain, the irons, and the brig, rather than that of immediate degradation to the steerage, operating upon his mind. The principal went on deck; Pelham turned in, and was soon followed, without a word of comment on the events which had just transpired, by Goodwin.

The night wore away, the gale increasing in fury, and the rain pouring in torrents. It was a true taste of a seaman's life to those who were on deck. At daybreak all hands were called again, to put the third reef in the topsails. At eight bells the courses were furled. The gale continued to increase in power during the forenoon, and by noon a tremendous sea had been stirred up. The ship rolled almost down to her beam ends, and the crests of the waves seemed to be above the level of the main yard.

In the popular exaggerated language, "the waves {238} ran mountain high," which means from twenty to forty feet; perhaps, on this occasion, twenty-five feet from the trough of the sea to the crest of the billow. Even this is a great height to be tossed up and down on the water; and to the boys of the Young America the effect was grand, if not terrific. The deck was constantly flooded with water; additional life-lines had been stretched across from rail to rail, and every precaution taken to insure the safety of the crew.

Study and recitation were impossible, and nothing was attempted of this kind. The storm was now what could justly be called a heavy gale, and it was no longer practicable to lay a course. Before eight bells in the forenoon watch, the royal and top-gallant yards had been sent down, and the ship was laid to under a close-reefed main-topsail, which the nautical gentlemen on board regarded as the best for the peculiar conditions which the Young America presented.

When a ship is laying to, no attention is paid to anything but the safety of the vessel, the only object being to keep her head up to the sea. In the gale, the Young America lay with her port bow to the wind, her hull being at an angle of forty-five degrees, with a line indicating the direction of the wind. Her topsail yard was braced so that it pointed directly to the north-east—the quarter from which the gale blew. The helm was put a-lee just enough to keep her in the position indicated. She made little or no headway, but rather drifted with the waves.

The young tars had a hard forenoon's work; and what was done was accomplished with triple the labor required in an ordinary sea. All hands were on duty {239} during the first part of the day, though there were intervals of rest, such as they were, while the boys had to hold on with both hands, and there was no stable abiding-place for the body. The ship rolled so fiercely that no cooking could be done, and the only refreshments were coffee and "hard tack."

"This is a regular muzzler, Pelham," said Shuffles, in the afternoon, as they were holding on at the life-lines in the waist.

"That's a fact; and I've got about enough of this thing."

"There isn't much fun in it," replied Shuffles, who had been watching for this opportunity to advance the interests of the "Chain."

"No, not a bit."

"It's better for you officers, who don't have to lay out on the yards when they jump under you like a mad horse, than for us."

"I suppose I shall have a chance to try it next term."

"Why so?"

"I lost twenty marks last night. I got mad, lighted the lamp, and smoked a cigar in my state room."

"Will the loss of the twenty marks throw you over?"

"Yes? I'm a goner!" added Pelham, with a smile.

"What made you mad?"

"The captain snubbed me; then Lowington came the magnificent over me. A single slip throws a fellow here."

A single slip in the great world throws a man or woman; and young men and young women should be {240} taught that "single slips" are not to be tolerated. More children are spoiled by weak indulgence than by over-severe discipline. But a boy had a better chance to recover from the effects of his errors in the Young America, than men and women have in the community.

By gradual approaches, Shuffles informed the fourth lieutenant of the object of the "Chain," which Pelham promptly agreed to join, declaring that it was just the thing to suit his case. He was in a rebellious frame of mind; and though he could not feel that the enterprise would be a complete success, it would afford him an opportunity to annoy and punish the principal for his degrading and tyrannical regulation, as the recreant officer chose to regard it.

By the exercise of some tact, the conspirators found a convenient place under the top-gallant forecastle to consider the project. Pelham was duly "toggled," and offered no objection to the penalty; indeed, he only laughed at it.

"Suppose we get possession of the ship—what then?" asked Pelham.

"We will go on a cruise. I understand that she has provisions for a six months' voyage on board. I'm in favor of going round Cape Horn, and having a good time among the islands of the South Sea."

Pelham laughed outright at this splendid scheme.

"Round Cape Horn!" exclaimed he.

"Yes? why not? We should be up with the cape by the first of June; rather a bad time, I know, but this ship would make good weather of it, and I don't believe we should see anything worse than this." {241}

"What will you do with the principal and the professors?" asked Pelham, lightly.

"We can run up within ten or fifteen miles of Cape Sable, give them one of the boats, and let them go on shore."

"Perhaps they won't go."

"We have ten fellows already in the Chain, who are seventeen years old. If we get half the crew, we can handle the other half, and the professors with them."

"All right! I'm with you, whether you succeed or not. I'm not going to be ground under Lowington's feet, and be snubbed by such fellows as Gordon. If I want to smoke a cigar, I'm going to do it."

"Or take a glass of wine," suggested Shuffles.

"If there is any on board."

"There is, plenty of it. I'll make you a present of a bottle, if you wish it."

"Thank you. Suppose we get the ship, Shuffles, who are to be the officers?" asked Pelham.

"We shall have good fellows for officers. You will be one, of course."

"I suppose I am higher in rank now than any fellow who has joined the Chain."

"Yes, that's a fact; but we are not going to mind who are officers now, or who have been before. We intend to take the best fellows—those who have done the most work in making the Chain."

"Whether they are competent or not," added Pelham.

"All the fellows know how to work a ship now, except the green hands that came aboard this year."

"This is rather an important matter. Shuffles, for {242} everything depends upon the officers. For instance, who will be captain?" asked Pelham, with assumed indifference.

"I shall, of course," replied Shuffles, with becoming modesty.

"That's a settled matter, I suppose."

"Yes; without a doubt it is."

"I may not agree to that," suggested the new convert.

"You have already agreed to it. You have promised to obey your superiors."

"But who are my superiors?"

"I am one of them."

"Who appointed you?"

"I appointed myself. I got up the Chain."

"I think I have just as much right to that place as you have. Shuffles."

"I don't see it! Do you expect me to get up this thing, and then take a subordinate position?" demanded Shuffles, indignantly.

"Let the members choose the captain; that's the proper way."

"Perhaps they will choose neither one of us."

"Very well; I will agree to serve under any fellow who is fairly elected."

"When shall he be chosen?" asked Shuffles, who was so sure of a majority that he was disposed to adopt the suggestion.

"When we have thirty links, say."

"I will agree to it."

The conspirators separated, each to obtain recruits as fast as he could. During the latter part of the day, {243} the gale began to subside, and at sunset its force was broken, but the sea still ran fearfully high. The fore course was shaken out, and the ship filled away again, plunging madly into the savage waves.

On Sunday morning, the gale had entirely subsided; but the wind still came from the same quarter, and the weather was cloudy. The sea had abated its fury, though the billows still rolled high, and the ship had an ugly motion. During the night, the reefs had been turned out of the topsails; the jib, flying-jib, and spanker had been set, and the Young America was making a course east-south-east.

"Sail ho!" shouted one of the crew on the top-gallant forecastle, after the forenoon watch was set.

"Where away?" demanded the officer of the deck.

"Over the lee bow, sir," was the report which came through the officers on duty.

The report created a sensation, as it always does When a sail is seen; for one who has not spent days and weeks on the broad expanse of waters, can form only an inadequate idea of the companionship which those in one ship feel for those in another, even while they are miles apart. Though the crew of the Young America had been shut out from society only about three days, they had already begun to realize this craving for association—this desire to see other people and be conscious of their existence.

After the severe gale through which they had just passed, this sentiment was stronger than it would have been under other circumstances. The ocean had been lashed into unwonted fury by the mad winds. A fierce gale had been raging