CHAPTER II.
AT THE QUARANTINE STATION.
While these events were transpiring below, the signal had come from the Prince to shorten sail on the schooners, for the squadron was within half a mile of the long mole extending to the southward of the tongue of land that forms the easterly side of the harbor of Barcelona. A signal for a pilot was exhibited on each vessel of the fleet, but no pilot boat seemed to be in sight. As the bar could not be far distant, it was not deemed prudent to advance any farther; and the steamer had stopped her engine.
“Signal on the steamer to heave to, Mr. Greenwood,” said Rolk, the fourth master, as he touched his cap to the first lieutenant, who was the officer of the deck.
“I see it,” replied Greenwood. “Haul down the jib, and back the fore-topsail!”
The necessary orders were given in detail, and in a few moments the three vessels of the fleet were lying almost motionless on the sea. Greenwood took a glass from the beckets at the companion-way, and proceeded to a make a survey of the situation ahead. But there was nothing to be seen except the mole, and the high fortified hill of Monjuich on the mainland, across the harbor.
“Where are your pilots, Raimundo?” asked Scott of the second master; and both of them were off duty at this time.
“You won’t see any pilots yet awhile,” replied the young Spaniard.
“Are they all asleep?”
“Do you think they will be weak enough to come on board before the health officers have given their permission for the vessels to enter the harbor?” added Raimundo. “If they did so they would be sent into quarantine themselves.”
“They are prudent, as they ought to be,” added Scott. “I suppose you begin to feel at home about this time; don’t you, Don Raimundo?”
“Not half so much at home as I do when I am farther away from Spain,” replied the second master, with a smile that seemed to be of a very doubtful character.
“Why, how is that?” asked Scott. “This is Spain, the home of your parents, and the land that gave you birth.”
“That’s true; but, for all that, I would rather go anywhere than into Spain. In fact, I don’t think I shall go on shore at all,” added Raimundo, and there was a very sad look on his handsome face.
“Why, what’s the matter, my Don?”
“I thought very seriously of asking Mr. Lowington to grant me leave of absence till the squadron reaches Lisbon,” replied the second master. “I should have done so if it had not been for losing my rank, and taking the lowest place in the Tritonia.”
“I don’t understand you,” answered Scott, puzzled by the sudden change that had come over his friend; for, being in the same quarter watch, they had become very intimate and very much attached to each other.
“Of course you do not understand it; but when I have the chance I will tell you all about it, for I may want you to help me before we get out of the waters of Spain. But I wish you to know, above all things, that I never did any thing wrong in Spain, whatever I may have done in New York.”
“Of course not, for I think you said you left your native land when you were only ten years old.”
“That’s so. I was born in this very city of Barcelona; and I suppose I have an uncle there now; but I would not meet him for all the money in Spain,” said Raimundo, looking very sad, and even terrified. “But we will not say any thing more about it now. When I have a chance, I will tell you the whole story. I am certain of one thing, and that is, I shall not go on shore in Barcelona if I can help it. There is a boat coming out from behind the mole.”
“An eight-oar barge; and the men in her pull as though she were part of a funeral procession,” said the first lieutenant, examining the boat with the glass. “She has a yellow flag in her stern.”
“Then it is the health officers,” added Raimundo.
All hands in the squadron watched the approaching boat; for by this time the quarantine question had excited no little interest, and it was now to be decided. The oarsmen pulled the man-of-war stroke; but the pause after they recovered their blades was so fearfully long that the rowers seemed to be lying on their oars about half of the time. Certainly the progress of the barge was very slow, and it was a long time before it reached the American Prince. Then it was careful not to come too near, lest any pestilence that might be lurking in the ship should be communicated to the funereal oarsmen or their officers. The boat took up its position abreast of the steamer’s gangway, and about thirty feet distant from her.
A well-dressed gentleman then stood up in the stern-sheets of the barge, and hailed the ship. Mr. Lowington, in full uniform, which he seldom wore, replied to the hail in Spanish; and a long conference ensued. When the principal said that the squadron came from Genoa, the health officer shook his head. Then he wanted to know all about the three vessels, and it appeared to be very difficult for him to comprehend the character of the school. At last he was satisfied on all these points, and understood that the academy was a private enterprise, and not an institution connected with the United States Navy.
“Have you any sickness on board?” asked the health officer, when the nature of the craft was satisfactorily explained.
“We have two cases of measles in the steamer, but all are well in the other vessels,” replied Mr. Lowington.
“Sarampion!” exclaimed the Spanish officer, using the Spanish word for the measles.
At the same time he shrugged his shoulders like a Frenchman, and vented his incredulity in a laugh.
“Viruelas!” added the officer; and the word in English meant smallpox, which was just the disease the Spaniards feared as coming from Genoa.
Mr. Lowington then called Dr. Winstock, the surgeon, who spoke Spanish fluently, and presented him to the incredulous health officer. A lengthy palaver between the two medical men ensued. There appeared to be some sort of freemasonry, or at least a professional sympathy, between them, for they seemed to get on very well together. The cases of measles were very light ones, the two students having probably contracted the disease in some interior town of Italy where they passed the night at a hotel. They had been kept apart from the other students, and no others had taken the malady.
The health officer declared that he was satisfied for the present with the explanation of the surgeon, and politely asked to see the ship’s papers, which the principal held in his hand. The barge pulled up a little nearer to the steamer; a long pole with a pair of spring tongs affixed to the end of it was elevated to the gangway, between the jaws of which Mr. Lowington placed the documents. They were carefully examined, and then all hands were required to show themselves in the rigging. This order included every person on board, not excepting the cooks, waiters, and coal-heavers. In a few moments they were standing on the rail or perched in the rigging, and the health officer and his assistants proceeded to count them. The number was two short of that indicated in the ship’s papers, for those who were sick with the measles were not allowed to leave their room.
The health officer then intimated that he would pay the vessel a visit; and all hands were ordered to muster at their stations where they could be most conveniently inspected. Every part of the vessel was then carefully examined, and the Spanish doctors minutely overhauled the two cases of measles. They declared themselves fully satisfied that there was neither yellow fever nor smallpox on board of the steamer. The other vessels of the squadron were subjected to the same inspection. Mr. Lowington and Dr. Winstock attended the health officer in his visit to the Josephine and the Tritonia.
“You find our vessels in excellent health,” said Dr. Winstock, when the examination was completed.
“Very good; but we cannot get over the fact that you come from Genoa, where the smallpox is prevailing badly. Vessels from that port are quarantined at Marseilles for from three days to a fortnight; but I shall not be hard with you, as you have a skilful surgeon on board,” replied the health officer, touching his hat to Dr. Winstock; “but my orders from the authorities are imperative that all vessels from infected or doubtful ports shall be fumigated before any person from them is allowed to land in the city. We have had the yellow fever so severely all summer that we are very cautious.”
“Is it necessary to fumigate?” asked Dr. Winstock, with a smile.
“The authorities require it, and I am not at liberty to dispense with it,” answered the official. “But it will detain you only a few hours. You will land the ship’s company of each vessel, and they will be fumigated on shore. While they are absent our people will purify the vessels.”
“Is there any yellow fever in the city now?” asked the surgeon of the fleet.
“None at all. The frost has entirely killed it; but we have many patients who are recovering from the disease. The people who went away have all returned, and we call the city healthy.”
The quarantine grounds were pointed out to the principal; and the fleet was soon at anchor within a cable’s length of the shore. Study and recitation were suspended for the rest of the day. All the boats of the American Prince were manned; her fires were banked; the entire ship’s company were transferred to the shore; and the vessel was given up to the quarantine officers, who boarded her and proceeded with their work. In a couple of hours the steamer and her crew were disposed of; and then came the turn of the Josephine, for only one vessel could be treated at a time.
When all hands were mustered on board of the Tritonia, the two delinquents in the brig were let out to undergo the inspection with the others. The decision of the health officer requiring the vessels to be fumigated, and the fact that the process would require but a few hours, were passed through each of the schooners as well as the steamer, and in a short time were known to every student in the fleet. As usual they were disposed to make fun of the situation, though it was quite a sensation for the time. During the excitement Bark Lingall improved the opportunity to confer with Lon Gibbs and Ben Pardee. Lon was willing to undertake any thing that Bark suggested. Ben was rather a prudent fellow, but soon consented to take part in the enterprise. Certainly neither of these worthies would have assented if the proposition to join had been made by Bill Stout, in whom they had as little confidence as Bark had manifested. The alliance had hardly been agreed upon before the vice-principal happened to see the four marines talking together, and ordered Marline to recommit two of them to the brig. The boatswain locked them into their prison, and left them to their own reflections. The excitement on deck was still unabated, and the cabins and steerage were deserted even by the stewards.
“I think our time has come,” said Bill Stout, after he had satisfied himself that no one but the occupants of the brig was in the steerage. “If we don’t strike at once we shall lose our chance, for they say we are going up to the city to-night.”
“They will have to let us out to be fumigated with the rest of the crew,” answered Bark Lingall. “We haven’t drawn lots yet, either.”
“Never mind the lot now: I will do the job myself,” replied Bill magnanimously. “I should rather like the fun of it.”
“All right, though I am willing to take my chances. I won’t back out of any thing.”
“You are true blue, Bark, when you get started; but I would rather do the thing than not.”
“Very well, I am willing; and when the scratch comes I will back you up. But I do not see how you are going to manage it, Bill,” added Bark, looking about him in the brig.
“The vice has made an easy thing of it for us. While the fellows were all on deck, I went to my berth and got a little box of matches I bought in Genoa when we were there. I have it in my pocket now. All I have to do is to take off this scuttle, and go down into the hold. As we don’t know how soon the fellows will be sent ashore, I think I had better be about it now.”
Bill Stout put his fingers into the ring on the trap-door, and lifted it a little way.
“Hold on, Bill,” interposed Bark. “You are altogether too fast. When Marline comes down to let us out, where shall I say you are?”
“That’s so: I didn’t think of that,” added Bill, looking rather foolish. “He will see the scuttle, and know just where I am.”
“And, when the blaze comes off, he will see just who started it,” continued Bark. “That won’t do anyhow.”
“But I don’t mean to give it up,” said Bill, scratching his head as he labored to devise a better plan.
The difficulty was discussed for some time, but there seemed to be no way of meeting it. Bill was one of the crew of the second cutter, and he was sure to be missed when the ship’s company were piped away. If Bark, who did not belong to any boat, took his oar, the boatswain, whose place was in the second cutter when all hands left the vessel, would notice the change. Bill was almost in despair, and insisted that no amount of brains could overcome the difficulty. The conspirator who was to “do the job” was certain to be missed when the ship’s company took to the boats. To be missed was to proclaim who the incendiary was when the fire was investigated.
“We may as well give it up for the present, and wait for a better time,” suggested Bark, who was as unable as his companion to solve the problem.
“No, I won’t,” replied Bill, taking a newspaper from his breast-pocket. “We may never have another chance; and I believe in striking while the iron is hot.”
“Don’t get us into a scrape for nothing. We can’t do any thing now,” protested Bark.
“Now’s the day, and now’s the hour!” exclaimed Bill, scowling like the villain of a melodrama.
“What are you going to do?” demanded Bark, a little startled by the sudden energy of his fellow-conspirator.
“Hold on, and you shall see,” answered Bill, as he raised the trap-door over the scuttle.
“But stop, Bill! you were not to do any thing without my consent.”
“All hands on deck! man the boats in fire order,” yelled the boatswain on deck, after he had blown the proper pipe.
Bill Stout paid no attention to the call or to the remonstrance of his companion. Raising the trap, he descended to the hold by the ladder under the scuttle. Striking a match, he set fire to the newspaper in his hand, and then cast it into the heap of hay and sawdust that lay near the foot of the ladder. Hastily throwing the box-covers and cases on the pile, he rushed up the steps into the brig, and closed the scuttle. He was intensely excited, and Bark was really terrified at what he considered the insane rashness of his associate in crime. But there was no time for further talk; for Marline appeared at this moment, and unlocked the door of the brig.
“Come, my hearties, you must go on shore for an hour to have the smallpox smoked out of you; and I wish they could smoke out some of the mischief that’s in you at the same time,” said the adult boatswain. “Come, and bear a hand lively, for all hands are in boats by this time.”
Bill Stout led the way; and on this occasion he needed no hurrying, for he was in haste to get away from the vessel before the blaze revealed itself. In a moment more he was on the thwart in the second cutter where he belonged. Bark’s place was in another boat, and they separated when they reached the deck. The fire-bill assigned every person on board of the vessel to a place in one of the boats, so that every professor and steward as well as every officer and seaman knew where to go without any orders. It was the arrangement for leaving the ship in case of fire; and it had worked with perfect success in the Young America when she was sunk by the collision with the Italian steamer. As the boats pulled away from the Tritonia, the quarantine people boarded her to perform the duty belonging to them.
Bill Stout endeavored to compose himself, but with little success, though the general excitement prevented his appearance from being noticed. He was not so hardened in crime that he could see the vessel on fire without being greatly disturbed by the act; and it was more than probable that, by this time, he was sorry he had done it. He did not expect the fire to break out for some little time; and it had not occurred to him that the quarantine people would extend their operation to the hold of the vessel.
The boats landed on the beach; and all hands were marched up to a kind of tent, a short distance from the water. There were fifty-five of them, and they were divided into two squads for the fumigating process.
“How is this thing to be done?” asked Scott, as he halted by the side of Raimundo, at the tent.
“I have not the least idea what it is all about,” replied the young Spaniard.
“I suppose we are to take up our quarters in this tent.”
“Not for very long; for all the rest of the squadron have been operated upon in a couple of hours.”
The health officer now beckoned them to enter the tent. It was of the shape of a one-story house. The canvas on the sides and end was tacked down to heavy planks on the ground, so as to make it as tight as possible. There was only a small door; and, when the first squad had entered, it was carefully closed, so that the interior seemed to be almost air-tight. In the centre of the tent was a large tin pan, which contained some chemical ingredient. The health officer then poured another ingredient into the pan; and the union of the two created quite a tempest, a dense smoke or vapor rising from the vessel, which immediately filled the tent.
“Whew!” whistled Scott, as he inhaled the vapor. “These Spaniards ought to have a patent for getting up a bad smell. This can’t be beat, even by the city of Chicago.”
“I am glad you think my countrymen are good for something,” laughed Raimundo.
The students coughed, sneezed, and made all the fuss that was necessary, and a good deal more. The health officer laughed at the antics of the party, and dismissed them in five minutes, cleansed from all taint of smallpox or yellow fever.
“Where’s your blaze?” asked Bark Lingall, as they withdrew from the others who had just left the tent.
“Hush up! don’t say a word about it,” whispered Bill; “it hasn’t got a-going yet.”
“But those quarantine folks are on board; and if there were any fire there they would have seen it before this time,” continued Bark nervously.
“Dry up! not another word! If we are seen talking together the vice will know that we are at the bottom of the matter.”
Bill Stout shook off his companion, and walked about with as much indifference as he could assume. Every minute or two he glanced at the Tritonia, expecting to see the flames, or at least the smoke, rising above her decks. But no flame or smoke appeared, not even the vapor of the disinfectants.
The second squad of the ship’s company were sent into the tent after the preparations were completed; and in the course of an hour the health officer gave the vice-principal permission to return to his vessel. The boats were manned; the professors and others took their places, and the bowmen shoved off. Bill began to wonder where his blaze was, for ample time had elapsed for the flames to envelop the schooner, if she was to burn at all. Still there was no sign of fire or smoke about the beautiful craft. She rested on the water as lightly and as trimly as ever. Bill could not understand it; but he came to the conclusion that the quarantine men had extinguished the flames. The burning of the vessel did not rest upon his conscience, it is true; but he was not satisfied, as he probably would not have been if the Tritonia had been destroyed. He felt as though he had attempted to do a big thing, and had failed. He was not quite the hero he intended to be in the estimation of his fellow-conspirators.
The four boats of the Tritonia came alongside the schooner; and, when the usual order of things had been fully restored, the signal for sailing appeared on the steamer. The odor of the chemicals remained in the cabin and steerage for a time; but the circulation of the air soon removed it. It was four o’clock in the afternoon; and, in order to enable the students to see what they might of the city as the fleet went up to the port, the lessons were not resumed. The fore-topsail, jib, and mainsail were set, the anchor weighed, and the Tritonia followed the Prince in charge of a pilot who had presented himself as soon as the fumigation was completed.
“You belong in the cage,” said Marline, walking up to the two conspirators, as soon as the schooner began to gather headway.
Bill and Bark followed the boatswain to the steerage, and were locked into the brig.
“Here we are again,” said Bark, when Marline had returned to the deck. “I did not expect when we left, to come back again.”
“Neither did I; and I don’t understand it,” replied Bill, with a sheepish look. “I certainly fixed things right for something different. I lighted the newspaper, and put it under the hay, sawdust, and boxes. I was sure there would be a blaze in fifteen minutes. I can’t explain it; and I am going down to see how it was.”
“Not now: some one will see you,” added Bark.
“No; everybody is looking at the sights. Besides, as the thing has failed, I want to fix things so that no one will suspect any thing if the pile of hay and stuff should be overhauled.”
Bark made no further objection, and his companion hastened down the ladder. Pulling over the pile of rubbish, he found the newspaper he had ignited. Only a small portion of it was burned, and it was evident that the flame had been smothered when the boxes and covers had been thrown on the heap. Nothing but the newspaper bore the marks of the fire; and, putting this into his pocket, he returned to the brig.
“I shall do better than that next time,” said he, when he had explained to Bark the cause of the failure.
Bill Stout was as full of plans and expedients as ever; and, before the anchor went down, he was willing to believe that “the job” could be better done at another time.