CHAPTER XVI.
BILL STOUT AS A TOURIST.
Bill Stout indulged in some very severe reflections upon the conduct of his fellow-conspirator when he found that he was alone in the compartment where he had spent the night. The porter who woke him told him very respectfully (he was a first-class passenger), in good Spanish for a man in his position, that the train was to be run out of the station. Bill couldn’t understand him, but he left the car.
“Where are the fellows that came with me?” he asked, turning to the porter; but the man shook his head, and smiled as blandly as though the runaway had given him a peseta.
Bill was not much troubled with bashfulness; and he walked about the station, accosting a dozen persons whom he met; but not one of them seemed to know a word of English.
“No hablo Ingles,” was the uniform reply of all. One spoke to him in French; but, though Bill had studied this language, he had not gone far enough to be able to speak even a few words of it. He went into the street, and a crowd of carriage-drivers saluted him.
“Hotel,” said he, satisfied by this time that it was of no use to talk English to anybody in Spain.
As this word is known to all languages, he got on so far very well.
“Hotel Villa de Madrid!” shouted one of the drivers.
Though Bill’s knowledge of geography was very limited, he had heard of Madrid, and he identified this word in the speech of the man. He bowed to him to indicate that he was ready to go to the hotel he named. He was invited to take a seat in a tartana, a two-wheeled vehicle not much easier than a tip-cart, and driven to the hotel. Bill did not look like a very distinguished guest, for he wore the garb of a common sailor when he took off his overcoat. He had not even put on his best rig, as he did not go ashore in regular form. He spoke to the porter who received him at the door, in English, thinking it was quite proper for those about a hotel to speak all languages. But this man seemed to be no better linguist than the rest of the Spaniards; and he made no reply.
The guest was conducted to the hall where the landlord, or the manager of the hotel, addressed him in Spanish, and Bill replied in English.
“Habla V. Frances?” asked the manager.
“I don’t hablo any thing but English,” replied Bill, beginning to be disgusted with his ill-success in finding any one who could understand him.
“Parlez-vous Français?” persisted the manager.
“No. I don’t parlez-vous.”
“Parlate voi Italiano?”
“No: I tell you I don’t speak any thing but English,” growled Bill.
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“No; no Dutch.”
The manager shrugged his shoulders, and evidently felt that he had done enough, having addressed the guest in four languages.
“Two fellows—no comee here?” continued Bill, trying his luck with pigeon English.
Of course the manager shook his head at this absurd lingo; and Bill was obliged to give up in despair. The manager called a servant, and sent him out; and the guest hoped that something might yet happen. He seated himself on a sofa, and waited for the waters to move.
“I want some breakfast,” said Bill when he had waited half an hour; and as he spoke he pointed to his mouth, and worked his teeth, to illustrate his argument.
The manager took out his watch, and pointed to the “X” upon the dial, to indicate that the meal would be ready at that hour. A little later the servant came in with another man, who proved to be an English-speaking citizen of Valencia. He was a valet de place, or guide.
With his aid Bill ascertained that “two young fellows” had not been to the Hotel Villa de Madrid that morning. He also obtained a room, and some coffee and bread to last him till breakfast time. When he had taken his coffee, he went with the man to all the hotels in the place. It was nearly ten o’clock when he reached the Fonda del Cid. Two young gentlemen, one of them an officer, had just breakfasted at the hotel, and left for Grao, the port of Valencia, two miles distant, where they were to embark in a steamer which was to sail for Oran at ten. Bill had not the least idea where Oran was; and, when he asked his guide, he was astonished to learn that it was in Africa, a seaport of Algeria. Then he was madder than ever; for he would have been very glad to take a trip to Africa, and see something besides churches and palaces. He dwelt heavily upon the trick that Bark had played him. It was ten o’clock then, and it would not be possible to reach Grao before half-past ten. He could try it; the steamer might not sail as soon as advertised: they were often detained.
Bill did try it, but the steamer was two miles at sea when he reached the port. He engaged the guide for the day, after an effort to beat him down in his price of six pesetas. He went back to the hotel, and ate his breakfast. There was plenty of Val de Peñas wine on the table, and he drank all he wanted. Then he went to his room to take a nap before he went out to see the sights of the place. Instead of sleeping an hour as he intended, he did not wake till three o’clock in the afternoon. The wine had had its effect upon him. He found the guide waiting for him in the hall below. The man insisted that he should go to the cathedral; and when they had visited that it was dinner-time.
“How much do I owe you now?” asked Bill, when he came to settle with the guide.
“Six pesetas,” replied the man. “That is the price I told you.”
“But I have not had you but half a day: from eleven till three you did not do any thing for me,” blustered Bill in his usual style.
“But I was ready to go with you, and waited all that time for you,” pleaded the guide.
“Here is four pesetas, and that is one more than you have earned,” added Bill, tendering him the silver.
The man refused to accept the sum; and they had quite a row about it. Finally the guide appealed to the manager of the hotel, who promptly decided that six pesetas was the amount due the man. Bill paid it under protest, but added that he wanted the guide the next day.
“I shall go with you no more,” replied the man, as he put the money into his pocket. “I work for gentlemen only.”
“I will pay you for all the time you go with me,” protested Bill; but the guide was resolute, and left the hotel.
The next morning Bill used his best endeavors to obtain another guide; but for a time he was unable to make anybody comprehend what he wished. An Englishman who spoke Spanish, and was a guest at the hotel, helped him out at breakfast, and told the manager what the young man wanted.
“I will not send for a guide for him,” replied the manager; and then he explained to the tourist in what manner Bill had treated his valet the day before, all of which the gentleman translated to him.
But we cannot follow Bill in all his struggles with the language, or in all his wanderings about Valencia. He paid his bill at the hotel Villa de Madrid, and went to another. On his way he bought a new suit of clothes, and discarded for the present his uniform, which attracted attention wherever he was. He went to the Fonda del Cid next; but he could not obtain a guide who spoke English: the only one they ever called in was engaged to an English party for a week. The manager spoke English, but he was seldom in the house. In some of the shops they spoke English; but Bill was almost as much alone as though he had been on a deserted island. The days wore heavy on his hands; and about all he could do was to drink Val de Peñas, and sleep it off. He wanted to leave Valencia, but knew not where to go. He desired to get out of Spain; and he had tried to get the run of the English steamers; but as he could not read the posters, or often find any one to read them for him, he had no success.
He was heartily tired of the place, and even more disgusted than he had been on board of the Tritonia. He desired to go to England, where he could speak the language of the country; but no vessel for England came along, so far as he could ascertain. One day an English gentleman arrived at the hotel; and Bill got up a talk with him, as he did with everybody who could speak his own language. He told him he wanted to get to England; and the tourist advised him to cross Spain and Portugal by rail, and take a steamer at Lisbon, where one sailed every week for Southampton or Liverpool, and sometimes two or three a week.
Bill adopted this suggestion, and in the afternoon started for Lisbon. He had been nearly a week in Valencia, and the change was very agreeable to him. He found a gentleman who spoke English, in the compartment with him; and he got along without any trouble till he reached Alcazar, where his travelling friend changed cars for Madrid. But, before he left the train, he told Bill that he was too late to connect for Lisbon, and that he would have to wait till half-past one in the afternoon. He could obtain plenty to eat in the station; but that ten hours of waiting at a miserable shed of a station was far worse than learning a lesson in navigation. He was on the high land, only ninety miles from Madrid, and it was cold in the night. There was no fire to warm him, and he had to walk to keep himself comfortable. He could not speak a word to any person; and, when any one spoke to him, he had learned to say, “No hablo.” He had picked up a few words of Spanish, so that he could get what he wanted to eat, though his variety was very limited.
In the afternoon he took the train for Ciudad Real, and arrived there at six o’clock. He was too tired to go any farther that night; indeed, he was almost sick. He found an omnibus at the station, and said “Hotel” to the driver. He felt better in the morning, and reached the railroad station at six o’clock. As at the hotel, he gave the ticket-seller a paper and pencil; and he wrote down in figures the price of a ticket to Badajos, in reales. He had changed his money into Isabelinos, and knew that each was one hundred reales. Bill had improved a good deal in knowledge since he was thrown on his own resources. He waited till the train arrived from Madrid. It was quite a long one; but the conductor seemed to know just where the vacant seats were, and led him to the last carriage, where he was assigned a place in a compartment in which four passengers occupied the corners, and seemed to be all asleep. The runaway took one of the middle seats. He only hoped, that, when the daylight came, he might hear some of his fellow-travellers speak English. Unfortunately for him, they all spoke this language. The light in the top of the compartment had gone out, and the persons in the corners were buried in their overcoats, so that he could not see them after the conductor carried his lantern away.
The train started; and Bill, for the want of something better to do, went to sleep himself. His bed at the hotel had been occupied by a myriad of “cosas de España” before he got into it; and his slumbers had been much disturbed. He slept till the sun broke in through the window of the compartment. He heard his fellow-travellers conversing in English; and, when he was fairly awake, he was immediately conscious that a gentleman who sat in one of the opposite corners was studying his features. But, as soon as Bill opened his eyes, it was not necessary for him to study any longer. The gentleman in the corner was Mr. Lowington, principal of the academy squadron; and Bill’s solitary wanderings had come to an end.
The principal knew every student in the fleet; but Bill’s head had been half concealed, and his dress had been entirely changed, so that he did not fully identify him till he opened his eyes, and raised his head. The other persons in the compartment were Dr. Winstock, the captain, and the first lieutenant of the Prince.
“Good-morning, Stout,” said Mr. Lowington, as soon as he was sure that the new-comer was one of the runaways from the Tritonia.
Of course Bill was taken all aback when he realized that he was on the train with the ship’s company of the Prince. But the principal was good-natured, as he always was; and he smiled as he spoke. Bill had unwittingly run into the camp of the enemy; and that smile assured him that he was to be laughed at, in addition to whatever punishment might be inflicted upon him; and the laugh, to him, was the worst of it.
“Good-morning, sir,” replied Bill sheepishly; and he had not the courage to be silent as he desired to be in that presence.
“Have you had a good time, Stout?” asked Mr. Lowington.
“Not very good,” answered Bill; and by this time the eyes of the doctor and his two pupils, who had not noticed him before, were fixed upon the culprit.
“Where is Lingall?” inquired the principal. “Is he on the train with you?”
“No, sir: he and Raimundo ran away from me in Valencia.”
“Raimundo!” exclaimed Mr. Lowington. “Was he with you?”
“Yes, sir; and they played me a mean trick,” added Bill, who had not yet recovered from his indignation on account of his desertion, and was disposed to do his late associates all the harm he could.
“They ran away from you, as you did from the rest of us,” laughed the principal, who knew Stout so well that he could not blame his companions for deserting him. “Do you happen to know where they have gone?”
“They left Valencia in a steamer at ten o’clock in the forenoon;” and Bill recited the particulars of his search for his late companions, feeling all the time that he was having some part of his revenge upon them for their meanness to him.
“But where was the steamer bound?” asked the principal.
“For Oban,” replied Bill, getting it wrong, as he was very apt to do with geographical names.
“Oban; that’s in Scotland. No steamer in Valencia could be bound to Oban,” added Mr. Lowington.
“This place is not in Scotland: it is in Africa,” Bill explained.
“He means Oran,” suggested Dr. Winstock.
“That’s the place.”
Bill knew nothing in regard to the intended movements of Raimundo and Bark.
“How happened Raimundo to be with you?” asked the principal. “He left the Tritonia the night before we came from Barcelona.”
“No, sir: he did not leave her at all. He was in the hold all the time.”
As Bill was very willing to tell all he knew about his fellow-conspirator and the second master,—except that Bark and himself had tried to set the vessel on fire,—he related all the details of the escape, and the trip to Tarragona, including the affray with the boatman. He told the truth in the main, though he did not bring out the fact of his own cowardice, or dwell upon the cause of the quarrel between himself and his companions.
“And how happened you to be here, and on this train? Did you know we were on board of it?” inquired the principal.
“I did not know you were on this train; but I knew you were over this way somewhere.”
“And you were going to look for us,” laughed Mr. Lowington, who believed that the fellow’s ignorance had caused him to blunder into this locality at the wrong time.
“I was not looking for you, but for the Tritonias,” replied Bill, who had come to the conclusion that penitence was his best dodge under the circumstances. “I was going over to Lisbon to give myself up to Mr. Pelham.”
“Indeed! were you?”
“Yes, sir: I did not intend to run away; and it was only when Raimundo had a boat from the shore that I thought of such a thing. I have had hard luck; and I would rather do my duty on board than wander all about the country alone.”
“Then it was Lingall that spoiled your fun?”
“Yes, sir; but I shall never want to run away again.”
“That’s what they all say. But, if you wished to get back, why didn’t you go to Barcelona, where the Tritonia is? That would have been the shortest way for you.”
“I didn’t care about staying in the brig, with no one but Mr. Marline and Mr. Rimmer on board,” answered Bill, who could think of no better excuse.
Bill thought he might get a chance to slip away at some point on the road, or at least when the party arrived at Lisbon. If there was a steamer in port bound to England, he might get on board of her.
“We will consider your case at another time,” said the principal, as the train stopped at a station.
The principal and the surgeon, after sending Bill to the other end of the compartment, had a talk about Raimundo, who had evidently gone to Africa to get out of the jurisdiction of Spain. After examining Bradshaw, they found the fugitives could take a steamer to Bona, in Algeria, and from there make their way to Italy or Egypt; and concluded they would do so.