CHAPTER XII.
THE BOATSWAIN AND THE BRITON.
“Where’s Ole? I don’t understand it,” repeated Sanford, after he had made another ineffectual search for the missing waif.
“We have been sold, instead of selling those fellows,” added Stockwell.
“That’s so; and I should rather like to know how it was done. Ole has sold us out.”
“Is this your Rjukanfos?” demanded Clyde Blacklock, who had been looking for some one upon whom to pour out his wrath.
“Not exactly,” answered Sanford, indifferently, for he did not particularly enjoy the airs of the Briton.
“But what do you mean by bringing me here?” added Clyde.
“I didn’t bring you here. You came of your own free will and accord.”
“No, I didn’t; you said we were going to the waterfall.”
“We thought so ourselves; but we have been deceived. Ole has sold out and made fools of us. You are no worse off than the rest of us.”
“To whom did he sell out?” asked Clyde, appeased when he learned that he was not the only sufferer.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand it at all. We have been cheated out of the Rjukanfos, and brought to Christiania.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” inquired Stockwell.
“We can’t do anything about it. I suppose we shall be on board of the ship in an hour or two, telling the principal how hard we tried to be here before.”
“But I’m not going back to Christiania,” protested Clyde.
“I don’t see how you can help yourself. This boat don’t stop again till she arrives there.”
“I will not go to the ship again, at any rate,” added Clyde.
“Do as you like about that; it isn’t our business.”
Clyde was much disturbed by the situation. As he always regarded himself as the central figure of the group, he began to suspect that the apparent miscarriage of the plan was a trick to lure him back to the ship; but Sanford seemed to be honest, and to be entirely discomfited by the discovery. Burchmore and Churchill were highly elated at the success attending their scheme, which had, indeed, exceeded their expectations; but they were as much mystified by the disappearance of Ole as the victims of the trick. Being unable to speak the language, they could not inquire for the absentee; but they made a very diligent search for him. They were more successful than Sanford’s party had been, for, in going forward, they heard some high words in the quarters of the steamer’s crew, in the forecastle. Listening for a moment, they heard the voice of Ole, who appeared to have concealed himself in that part of the vessel, and was properly regarded as an intruder by the rightful occupants thereof.
“Come out here, Ole,” shouted Burchmore. “We want you.”
Ole turned from the Norwegian sailors, who were scolding at him for taking possession of their quarters, to his friends and allies.
“Where’s Sanford?” he asked, rather timidly.
“On deck.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Nonsense! We will take care of you against any odds,” said the cashier, laughing heartily at the fears of the waif. “They have only just ascertained where they are. Come up, Ole.”
Thus assured, the young Norwegian climbed up the ladder, much to the satisfaction of the sailors. Burchmore was too well pleased with the trick he had played upon the conspirators to confine the knowledge of it to Churchill and himself, and had explained it to all who were not actually in the confidence of the coxswain. A majority of the party were thus arrayed on his side, though two or three of them would as readily have chosen the other side. The cashier was evidently the safer leader.
“Sanford and that Englishman will pound me for the trick,” repeated Ole, as he glanced at the quarter-deck, where his victims were considering the situation.
“No, they won’t; we are able and willing to protect you,” replied Burchmore. “Come, we will go aft, and hear what they have to say.”
The cashier led the way, and the waif reluctantly followed him.
“I believe you wanted to see Ole,” said Burchmore, who could hardly look sober, he was so pleased with the result of his operations.
“Yes; I did wish to see him,” answered Sanford, rather coldly. “I will see him some other time.”
“O, I thought you wanted him now,” laughed Burchmore. “I am satisfied that this is really Christiania Fjord.”
“So am I,” added the coxswain, with a sickly smile.
“And you were quite right, too, in saying that large place was Drammen,” chuckled Burchmore.
“Certainly I was.”
“Neither were you mistaken in regard to Kongsberg.”
“I find that I was not.”
“I suppose you remember the Irishman’s turtle, that swallowed his own head, Sanford?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t mean to say that you swallowed your own head; but you found it just where you didn’t expect to find it. Isn’t that so?”
“We are going to talk the matter over with Ole by and by.”
“Do it now. I know all about it. You and Ole arranged the first part of our journey, including the day’s fishing we had at Apalstö; and Ole and I arranged the last part of it. It is an even thing now, and if you won’t complain of the last part, I won’t say a word about the first.”
“Don’t you! Well, you gave Ole a sovereign to arrange things for you in the beginning, and I gave him five species to arrange them for me afterwards. You can’t complain of a fellow, who sells himself at all, for making as much money as he can. Ole only did that.”
“He sold us out,” growled Sanford.
“Of course he did; if you buy a man, you mustn’t grumble when he does a second time what you encouraged him to do in the first instance. But you were going to take us off to the Rjukanfos, fifty or sixty miles out of our way, without our knowledge or consent. I smelt a mice, and turned the tables,” laughed the cashier.
“Yes, and you cheated me,” interposed Clyde.
“I had nothing whatever to do with you,” answered Burchmore, mildly.
“You led me here when I wanted to go another way.”
“You went where you pleased, so far as I was concerned. I never invited you to come with me, or even consented to your doing so.”
“Did you say the place we came to yesterday was Kongsberg?”
“I did, and so it was. But I think it was Sanford who first proclaimed the fact, and I cheerfully assented to its correctness,” chuckled Burchmore.
“But you deceived me, and I’ll have it out with you,” continued Clyde.
“Just as you please about that; but you had better let that black eye bleach out before you begin again.”
“I can whip you!” blustered Clyde. “I’ll meet you anywhere.”
“No, I thank you. If we meet for any such purpose as you suggest, it will be by accident.”
“See here, Great Britain; you needn’t make another row,” said Sanford.
“I’m going to whip this fellow for what he has done, and for calling me a bully.”
“You are a bully,” added Sanford.
“That’s so,” exclaimed Stockwell.
“Now you can lick the whole of us, if you insist upon it,” continued the coxswain.
“Perhaps I will,” retorted Clyde, shaking his head fiercely. “You have got me into a pretty scrape.”
“You are in the same boat as the rest of us.”
“The squadron isn’t here,” shouted Wilde; for the steamer had by this time arrived within sight of the harbor.
“Can the ship have sailed?” asked Sanford, after the party had satisfied themselves that not one of the vessels of the little fleet was there.
“I suppose she has,” replied Burchmore. “To-day is Friday, and she didn’t intend to lie here all summer.”
“Good!” exclaimed Clyde. “That makes everything all right for me. I’m satisfied now.”
Indeed, he was so delighted with the discovery that the ship had sailed, as to be even willing to forego the pleasure of thrashing his companions. The steamer went up to the wharf, and the party landed. Sanford and his friends appeared to be willing to take a reasonable view of the situation, and to accept it without grumbling, satisfied that they had been beaten with their own weapons. They were not sorry that the squadron had departed, for this circumstance gave them a new respite from the discipline of the ship, and enabled them to prolong “the trip without running away.”
“What are you going to do now?” asked Clyde, as they landed.
“We shall follow the ship, and try to join her,” replied Sanford. “That’s what we’ve been trying to do ever since we left Christiansand—isn’t it, Burchmore?”
“Certainly it is,” replied the cashier; “though we were detained one day at Apalstö, and narrowly escaped being carried by accident to the Rjukanfos.”
“Are you going to blow upon us, Burch?” demanded Stockwell, warmly.
“Am I? Did you ever know me to do such a thing?” added Burchmore, earnestly.
“No! no!” replied the whole party.
“I don’t think it was just the thing to cheat some of us as you did; but I believe we are about even on that now.”
“Of course we all want to get back to the ship as soon as possible,” added Sanford, rubbing his chin, significantly.
“Certainly. She has gone to Gottenburg, and all we have to do is to follow her,” said Churchill.
“But if you want to go there by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, Sanford, it will be better to have the matter understood so in the beginning,” added Burchmore. “I, for one, don’t like to be bamboozled.”
“I won’t try it on again,” said Sanford.
“All right, then; if you do, you may fetch up at Cape Horn.”
“Where shall we go now?” asked Sanford.
“To the Victoria Hotel. It is the best in the place,” replied Clyde.
“That’s the very reason why we don’t want to go there. We are not made of money, and we may run out before we are able, with our utmost exertions, to reach the ship,” added the cashier.
“But my mother is there,” continued Clyde.
“Go to your mother, Great Britain, if you like. We shall stay at some cheap hotel,” added Sanford.
Clyde protested in vain against this arrangement, and the Americans, with the aid of Ole, found a small hotel, suited to their views of economy. The Briton went with them; but when they were installed in their new quarters, he left them to find his mother, at the Victoria. After dinner, the coxswain and his party wandered all over the city. At the Castle of Agerhaus, they saw an English steamer receiving freight. They ascertained that she was bound to Gottenburg, and would sail at seven o’clock that evening. They immediately decided, as they had seen enough of Christiania, to take passage in her. The arrangement was speedily made, and they went on board, without troubling themselves to inform Clyde of what they intended to do. When the sun went down that evening the party were far down the fjord.
Sanford had ascertained that the ship sailed early on Thursday morning, and the steamer on which they had taken passage could not arrive at Gottenburg till nearly noon on Saturday. It was understood that the squadron would remain but a short time at this port, and it was possible that it would have departed for Copenhagen before the steamer arrived. He hoped this would prove to be the case; but he studied a plan by which the excursion of the party could be prolonged, if the hope should not be realized. He did not wish to return to the ship, because he thought it was pleasanter to travel without the restraints of discipline. Perhaps most of his party sympathized with him, and thought they could have a better time by themselves. Sanford desired to inform Clyde of the intention of the party to leave in the English steamer, and to take him along with them; but his companions overruled him unanimously, for they were too glad to get rid of an impudent, overbearing, and conceited puppy, as he had proved himself to be. The coxswain had no better opinion of him than his friends; but as Clyde was a runaway, according to his own confession, it might smooth their own way, in returning to their duty, if they could deliver him up to the principal. He was even willing to resort to strategy to accomplish this end; but Clyde was so disagreeable that he was saved from this trap.
The ship had gone, and every vessel of the squadron had departed with her. Clyde felt that all his trials were ended, and he had nothing more to fear from the big boatswain. He walked confidently to the Victoria Hotel, where he was sure to find his mother. He had even arranged in his mind the reproaches with which he intended to greet her for delivering him over to the savage discipline of the Young America, as he regarded it, and as, doubtless, it was for evil-doers. He passed into the passage-way which led to the court-yard. As he entered the office on the right to inquire for Mrs. Blacklock, he encountered Peaks, who no sooner saw him than he laid violent hands upon him.
“Let me alone!” shouted Clyde, struggling to escape from the grasp of his powerful antagonist.
“Not yet, my beauty,” replied the boatswain, as he dragged his victim into his own room, which was near the office. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I want to see my mother,” growled Clyde, when he had exhausted his strength in the fruitless struggle to escape.
“I dare say you do; babies always want to see their mothers.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Then behave like a man.”
Peaks deposited him on a chair, and permitted him to recover his breath.
“Where is my mother?” demanded Clyde.
“She is safe and well, and you needn’t bother your head to know anything more about her,” answered Peaks. “She has turned over a new leaf, so far as you are concerned, youngster, and is going to have us make a man of you.”
“Where is she?”
“No matter where she is.”
“Can’t I see her?”
“No, sir.”
“I must see her.”
“Perhaps you must, my hearty; but I don’t think she wants to see you till you are a decent young gentleman. She told me to be sure and put you on board of the ship, and I’m going to do it.”
“Where is the ship?”
“She sailed for Gottenburg yesterday morning; but we shall find her in good time,” replied Peaks, taking a bundle from the bureau, which contained the young Briton’s uniform. “Now, my bantam, you don’t look like a gentleman in that rig you’ve got on. Here’s your gear; put it on, and look like a man again, whether you are one or not. Those long togs don’t become you.”
The boatswain unfolded the uniform of Clyde, which he had left in his chamber when he leaped out of the window.
“I’m not going to put on those clothes,” protested the unhappy youth.
“No?”
“I’m not!”
“Then I’m going to put them on for you.”
“I’ll cry murder.”
“If you cry anything, I shall put a dirty handkerchief in your mouth. Look here, my chicken; don’t you know that you are making a fool of yourself? You mean to strain your own timbers for nothing. You’ll put this rig on anyhow, and it depends on yourself whether you will do it with or without a broken head.”
Clyde looked at the clothes and then at the brawny boatswain. It was foolish to resist, and he yielded to the force of circumstances. He put on the ship’s uniform, and threw himself into a chair to await the further pleasure of his tyrant.
“Now you look like a respectable young gentleman, my lad,” said Peaks.
“What are you going to do with me?” demanded Clyde, in a surly tone.
“I’m going to keep my eye on you every moment of the time till you are on board of the ship again.”
“I want to see my mother before I go.”
“It can’t be done.”
Clyde relapsed into silence. He had never before been subjected to such unheard-of tyranny. It was useless to resist, and the future looked as dark as the present. Probably his mother was in the hotel, but he was not permitted even to see her. Though the boatswain seemed to have it all his own way, he was not at all satisfied with the situation. Mrs. Blacklock and her daughter had gone to ride, but in the course of an hour or two they would return. The waiters would inform her that Clyde had arrived, and she would insist on seeing him. Though she had fully given up the control of him to the ship, the weakness of the mother might induce her to change her mind. Peaks only desired to discharge the duty with which he had been intrusted. The crew of the second cutter had not yet arrived, and he could not depart with his prisoner before they came. He was perplexed; but being a man of expedients, he decided upon his course in a short time. It was absolutely necessary to seek another hotel, where the dangerous proximity of Mrs. Blacklock might be avoided. The boatswain rang his bell, and sent for the commissionnaire whom he had employed while prosecuting his search for the runaway. When this man came, he ordered a carriage, and paid his bill.
“Now, youngster, we are going to take a ride,” said Peaks to his victim.
“Where are you going?”
“That’s my affair. If you make a row in the street, I shall just hand you over to the police, who will lock you up in that stone castle over there. You must understand that you are a deserter from your ship, and will be treated so, if you don’t behave like a man. Now come with me.”
As a deserter from his ship! The boatswain certainly had the weather-gage of him, and the idea of being thrown into prison was absolutely startling to Clyde. He had no doubt the savage boatswain would do all he threatened, and, almost for the first time in his life, he felt no inclination to bully. He stepped quietly into the carriage with Peaks and the commissionnaire. The driver was directed to convey the party to the landing-place. The steamer would sail the next morning; but unless the absent crew of the cutter arrived before that time, he could not go in her. Remaining in Christiania, he feared to encounter Mrs. Blacklock, for the honest tar dreaded a lady’s power more than the whole battery of a ship of the line. He was fully resolved, if he passed through fire and water in doing it, to discharge the duty intrusted to him by the principal. The lady was in the city, and the problem was to keep his charge out of sight of her during the rest of his stay. He might meet her; some one at the hotel might, and probably would, inform her of the arrival of Clyde.
After deliberating for some time, he directed his commissionnaire to procure a boat, in which he embarked with his prisoner and interpreter. By his order the two oarsmen pulled over to the hotel which was located so picturesquely on the island. Taking a room, he ordered dinner for his little party, and contrived to pass away the afternoon till sunset, when he returned to the city. His man, at his request, conducted him to an obscure hotel, which happened to be the one which Sanford and his friends had just left, to depart by the English steamer. The landlord recognized the uniform which Clyde wore.
“We had more of the young gentleman here,” said he, in broken English.
“More of them!” exclaimed Peaks, interested in the intelligence.
“Yes; more as ten of them,” added the landlord.
“Arn’t they here now?” asked Clyde, who had felt a ray of hope when Peaks brought him to the hotel where he had left his late companions.
“All gone; no more here.”
“Where have they gone?” asked the boatswain.
“To Gottenburg. They eat some dinner in my hotel, and at seven o’clock they go in the steamer.”
“I saw that steamer go out, but I didn’t think the cutter’s crew were in her. I’m sorry I didn’t know it before,” said Peaks, chagrined by this tardy discovery. “How many were there of them?”
“Ten.”
“That couldn’t be; there were only nine of the crew.”
“There was more as ten, but one of them went away.”
“I went away,” said Clyde.
“You! Were you with them?” demanded Peaks.
“I was.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“You didn’t ask me; and as you were not remarkably civil to me, I didn’t feel obliged to tell you the news.”
“But there were not ten of them.”
“Yes, ten,” said Clyde.
“There were only nine when they left the ship.”
“I know there were ten with me. One of them was a Norwegian, and a rascal; but he wore the same uniform as the rest of them.”
“What was his name?”
“Ole.”
“Ole! Why, he’s the fellow we picked up out at sea,” exclaimed the astonished boatswain. “Where have they been all this time?”
But Clyde suddenly bethought himself that he was altogether too communicative, considering the relations that subsisted between himself and his great enemy and persecutor, and he decided to answer no more questions.
“All right, my hearty,” laughed the boatswain, when the Briton declined to answer. “They are on their way to the ship, and you will be very soon.”
Peaks was cunning enough to detain his interpreter so that he should not return to the Victoria and inform Mrs. Blacklock where her son was. The way was clear now, for he had no further responsibility in regard to the cutter’s crew, and his spirits rose accordingly. He sent his man to engage a “hütte,” or state-room, in the steamer, and then, at a late hour in the evening, paid and discharged him. He compelled Clyde to sleep in the same chamber with him, for it contained three beds, and it is probable that the boatswain kept one eye open during the night, for every time the prisoner moved, his tyrant was on his feet. The Kronprindsesse Louise sailed at six o’clock in the morning, and Peaks and his victim were betimes on board. The boatswain was a happy man when the boat was clear of the wharf, and on her way to Gottenburg. He flattered himself that he had managed the affair very well indeed, for he was not above the vanities of the flesh.
It was midnight when the Kronprindsesse arrived at her destination. Peaks had kept one eye on Clyde all the time, and brought him in safety to his journey’s end. Late as was the hour, the first person he saw at the landing was Mr. Blaine, the chief steward of the ship.
“I’m glad to see you, Blaine,” shouted the boatswain when he identified his shipmate, and grasped his hand. “Shiver my timbers if I’m not rejoiced to see a man that speaks plain English! Where’s the ship?”
“She sailed for Copenhagen this evening.”
“No; you don’t say so!”
“It’s a fact. The students went up the canal as far as the falls, and returned about dark. The squadron got under way at once. I suppose you have the cutter’s crew with you, Peaks?”
“No; arn’t they on board yet?”
“I haven’t seen them.”
“But they came down on an English steamer that left Christiania last night.”
“An English steamer came in this forenoon, but we haven’t seen the cutter’s crew.”
“That’s strange. I shouldn’t wonder if those fellows were cutting up a little.”
“But we lost two students yesterday, Scott and Laybold. I suppose they ran away.”
“There’s a screw loose somewhere. These boys have too much money,” added Peaks. “But what are you going to do, and what am I to do?”
“I was left here to look out for Scott and Laybold, and meet you when you came. Now, it seems that about a dozen of the rascals are missing.”
“I have the Briton here.”
“If I were you, Peaks, I should go right on to Copenhagen in this steamer, and you can report the facts to the principal.”
The boatswain decided to do this, while the head steward remained to search for the absentees; and in due time Peaks delivered his prisoner on board of the ship in the harbor of Copenhagen.