CHAPTER XVIII.
AFRICA AND REPENTANCE.
Having brought Bill Stout safely into port, we feel obliged to bestow some attention upon the other wanderers from the fold of discipline and good instruction. At the Fonda del Cid, where our brace of tourists went after taking such unceremonious leave of Bill Stout, was a party of English people who insisted upon having their breakfast at an hour that would permit them to use the forenoon in seeing the sights of Valencia; and thus it happened that this meal was ready for the fugitives at eight o’clock.
“What day is this, Lingall?” asked Raimundo, as they came into the main hall of the hotel after breakfast.
“Wednesday,” replied Bark.
“I thought so. Look at this bill,” added the second master, pointing to a small poster, with the picture of a steamer at the head of it.
“I see it, but I can’t read it.”
“This steamer starts from Grao at ten this forenoon, for Oran. It is only half-past eight now.”
“Starts from Grao? where is that?” asked Bark.
“Grao is the port of Valencia: it is not many miles from here.”
“And where is the other place? I never heard of it.”
“Oran is in Algeria. It cannot be more than three hundred miles from Valencia.”
“But that will be going to Africa.”
“It will be the best thing we can do if we mean to keep out of the way.”
“I don’t object: I am as willing to go to Africa as anywhere else.”
“We can stay over there for a week or two, and then come back to Spain. We can hit the Tritonia at Cadiz or Lisbon.”
“I don’t think I want to hit her,” replied Bark with a sheepish smile.
“I was speaking for myself; and I forgot that your case was not the same as my own,” added Raimundo.
“I don’t know what your case is; but, as you seem to be perfectly easy about it, I wish mine was no worse than I believe yours is.”
“We will talk about that another time; for, if we are going to Oran, it is time we were on the way to the port,” said Raimundo. “If you don’t want to go to Africa, I won’t urge it; but that will suit my case the best of any thing I can think of.”
“It makes no difference to me where I go; and I am perfectly willing to go with you wherever you wish,” replied Bark, who, from hating the second master, had come to have an intense admiration for him.
Bark Lingall believed that his companion had saved the lives of the whole party in the boat; and certainly he had managed the expedition with great skill. He was as brave as a lion, in spite of his gentleness. But perhaps his respect and regard for the young Spaniard had grown out of the contrast he could not help making between him and Bill Stout. He could not now understand how it was that he had got up such an intimacy with his late associate in mischief, or rather in crime. Burning the Tritonia was vastly worse than he had at first considered it. Its enormity had increased in his mind when he reflected that Raimundo, who must have had a very strong motive for his sudden disappearance, had preferred to reveal himself rather than have the beautiful craft destroyed. In a word, Bark had made some progress towards a genuine repentance for taking part in the conspiracy with Bill Stout.
Raimundo paid the bill, and they took a tartana for Grao. They learned from the driver that it was less than half an hour’s ride. They first went to the office of the steamer, paid their passage, and secured their state-room.
“This is a good move for another reason,” said Raimundo, as they started again.
“What’s that?” asked Bark.
“I have been expecting to see Stout drop down upon us every moment since we went to the hotel.”
“So have I; and I think, if it had been my case, I should have found you by this time, if I wanted to do so,” added Bark.
“It is hardly time yet for him to get around; but he will find the Fonda del Cid in the course of the forenoon. You forget that Stout cannot speak a word of Spanish; and his want of the language will make it slow work for him to do any thing.”
“I did not think of that.”
“Do you feel all right about leaving him as we did?” asked Raimundo. “For my part, I could not endure him. He insulted me without the least reason for doing so.”
“He is the most unreasonable fellow I ever met in the whole course of my natural life. It was impossible to get along with him; and I am entirely satisfied with myself for leaving him,” replied Bark. “He insulted you, as you say; and I gave him the alternative of apologizing to you, or of parting company with us. I believe I did the fair thing. A fellow cannot hug a hog for any great length of period.”
“That’s so; but didn’t you know him before?”
“I knew him, of course; and he was always grumbling and discontented about something; but I never thought he was such a fellow as he turned out to be. I haven’t known him but a couple of months or so.”
“I should think you would have got at him while you were getting up something”—Raimundo did not say what—“with him.”
“I was dissatisfied myself. The squadron did not prove to be what I anticipated,” added Bark. “I had an idea that it was in for a general good time; that all we had to do was to go from place to place, and see the sights.”
“But you knew it was a school.”
“Certainly I did; but I never supposed the fellows had to study half as hard as they do. I thought the school was a sort of a fancy idea, to make it take with the parents of the boys. When I found how hard we had to work, I was disgusted with the whole thing. Then I fell in with Bill Stout and others; and, when we had talked the matter over a few times, it was even worse than I had supposed when I did all my own thinking on the subject. After we got together, we both became more and more discontented, till we were convinced that we were all slaves, and that it was really our duty to break the chains that bound us. This was all the kind of talk I ever had with Stout; and, as we sympathized on this matter, I never looked any farther into his character.”
“We shall have time enough to talk over these things when we get on board the steamer,” added Raimundo. “I have watched you and Stout a great deal on board of the Tritonia; and I confess that I was prejudiced against you. I didn’t feel any better about it when I found you and Stout trying to destroy the vessel. But I must say now that you are a different sort of fellow from what I took you to be; and nobody ever grew any faster in another’s estimation than you have in mine since that affair last night in the felucca. I believe your pluck and skill in hauling that cut-throat down saved the whole of us.”
“I have been thinking all the time it was you that saved us,” added Bark, intensely gratified at the praise of Raimundo.
“The battle would have been lost if it hadn’t been for you; for I struck at the villain, and missed him. If you hadn’t brought him down, his knife would have been into me in another instant. But here is the port.”
The steamer was one of the “Messageries Nationales,” though that name had been recently substituted for “Imperiales” because the emperor had been abolished. The tourists went on board in a shore-boat, and took possession of their state-room. They made their preparations for the voyage, and then went on deck. They found comfortable seats, and the weather was like spring.
“What is the name of this steamer?” asked Bark.
“The City of Brest.”
“That was not the name on the handbill we saw; was it, Mr. Raimundo?”
“Yes,—Ville de Brest.”
“That was it,” added Bark.
“Well, that is the French of City of Brest,” laughed the second master. “Don’t you speak French?”
“I know a little of it; and I know that a ‘ville’ is a city; but I didn’t understand it as you spoke the word.”
“I learned all the French I know in the academy squadron; and I can get along very well with it. I have spent a whole evening where nothing but French was spoken by the party. Professor Badois never speaks a word of English to me.”
“And you speak Italian and German besides, Mr. Raimundo.”
“I can get along with them, as I can with French.”
“That makes five languages you speak.”
“I am not much in Italian,” laughed the second master. “My uncle set me to learning it in New York; but I forgot most of it, and learned more while we were in Italy than I ever knew before.”
“I wish I had some other lingo besides my own.”
“You can have it by learning it.”
“But I am not so good a scholar as you are, Mr. Raimundo.”
“You don’t know that; for, if I mistake not, you have never laid yourself out on study, as I had not when I first went on board of the Young America. But, to change the subject, you have called me Mr. Raimundo three times since we sat down here. I agree with Stout so far, that we had better drop all titles till I put on my uniform again.”
“I have been so used to calling you Mr., that it comes most natural for me to do so,” replied Bark.
“I think I shall change my name a little; at least, so far as to translate it into plain English. I have always kept my Spanish name, which is Enrique Raimundo. It is so entered on the ship’s books; but I shall make it Henry Raymond for the present.”
“And is that the English of the other name?”
“It is; and, when you call me any thing, let it be Henry.”
“Very well, Henry,” added Bark.
“That is the name I gave when I bought the tickets. I noticed that Stout called you Bark.”
“My name is Barclay; and you can call me that, or Bark for short.”
“Bark don’t sound very respectful, and it reminds one of a dog.”
“My bark is on the wave; and I do not object to the name. I was always called Bark before I went to sea, and it sounds more natural to me than any thing else would. My father always called me Barclay; and I believe he was the only one that did.”
“All right, Bark: if you don’t object, I need not. You hinted that you did not think you should go back to the Tritonia.”
“It wouldn’t be safe for me to do so,” replied Bark anxiously.
“I have come to the conclusion that it is always the safest to do the right thing, whatever the consequences may be.”
“What! stay in the brig the rest of the voyage!”
“Yes, if that is the penalty for doing the right thing,” replied Henry, as he chooses to be called.
“Suppose you were in my place; that you had tried to set the vessel on fire, and had run away: what would you do?”
“You did not set the vessel on fire, or try to do it. It was Stout that did it,” argued Raymond.
“But I was in the plot. I agreed to take part in it; and I hold myself to be just as deep in the mire as Bill Stout is in the mud,” added Bark.
“I am glad to see that you are a man about it, and don’t shirk off the blame on the other fellow.”
“Though I did not get up the idea, I am as guilty as Bill; and I will not cast it all upon him.”
“That’s the right thing to say.”
“But what would you do, if you were in my place?”
“Just as I said before. I should return to the Tritonia, and face the music, if I were sent home in a man-of-war, to be tried for my life for the deed.”
“That’s pretty rough medicine.”
“Since I have been in the squadron, I have learned a new morality. I don’t think it would be possible for me to commit a crime, especially such as burning a vessel; but, if I had done it, I should want to be hanged for it as soon as possible. I don’t know that anybody else is like me; but I tell you just how I feel.”
“But, if you were bad enough to do the deed, you could not feel as you do now,” replied Bark, shaking his head.
“That may be; but I can only tell you how I feel now. I never did any thing that I called a crime,—I mean any thing that made me liable to be punished by the law,—but I was a very wild fellow in the way of mischief. I used to be playing tricks upon the fellows, on my schoolmasters, and others, and was always in a scrape. I was good for nothing till I came on board of the Young America. As soon as I got interested, I worked night and day to get my lessons. Of course I had to be very correct in my conduct, or I should have lost my rank. It required a struggle for me to do these things at first; but I was determined to be an officer. I was as severe with myself as though I had been a monk with the highest of aspirations. I was an officer in three months; and I have been one ever since, though I have never been higher than fourth lieutenant, for the reason that I am not good in mathematics. My strength is in the languages.”
“But I should think you would get discouraged because you get no higher.”
“Not at all. As the matter stands now with me, I should do the best I could if I had to take the lowest place in the ship.”
“I don’t understand that,” added Bark, who had come to the conclusion that his companion was the strangest mortal on the face of the earth; but that was only because Bark dwelt on a lower moral plane.
“After I had done my duty zealously for a few months, I was happy only in doing it; and it gave me more pleasure than the reward that followed it. Like Ignatius Loyola, I became an enthusiastic believer in God, in a personal God, in Christ the Saviour, and in the Virgin Mary: blessed be the Mother of God, her Son, and the Father of all of us!” and Raymond crossed himself as devoutly as though he were engaged in his devotions.
Bark was absolutely thrilled by this narrative of the personal experience of his new-found friend; and he was utterly unable to say any thing.
“But God and duty seem almost the same to me,” continued Raymond. “I am ready to die or to live, but not to live at the expense of right and duty. For the last six months I have believed myself liable to be assassinated at any time. I know not how much this has to do with my mental, moral, and religious condition; but I am as I have described myself to be. I should do my duty if I knew that I should be burned at the stake for it”
“What do you mean by assassinated?” asked Bark, startled by the statement.
“I mean exactly what I say. But I am going to tell you my story in full. I have related it to only one other student in the squadron; and, if we should be together again on board of the Tritonia, I must ask you to keep it to yourself,” said Raymond.
“It has bothered me all along to understand how a fellow as high-toned as you are could allow yourself to be considered a runaway; for I suppose the officers look upon you as such.”
“No doubt they do; but in good time I shall tell Mr. Lowington the whole story, and then he will be able to judge for himself.”
By this time the steamer had started. Raymond told his story just as he had related it to Scott on board of the Tritonia. Bark was interested; and, when the recital was finished, the steamer was out of sight of land.
“I suppose you will not believe me when I say it; but I have kept out of my uncle’s way more for his sake than my own,” said Raymond in conclusion. “I will not tempt one of my own flesh and blood to commit a crime; and I feel that it would have been cowardice for me to run away from my ship for the mere sake of saving myself from harm. Besides, I think I could take care of myself in Barcelona.”
“I have no doubt of that,” replied Bark, whose admiration of his fellow-tourist was even increased by the narration to which he had just listened.
Certainly Raymond was a most remarkable young man. Bark felt as though he were in the presence of a superior being. He realized his own meanness and littleness, judged by the high standard of his companion. As both of them were tired, after the night on the train, they went to the state-room, and lay down in their berths. Raymond went to sleep; but Bark could not, for he was intensely excited by the conversation he had had with his new friend. He lay thinking of his own life and character, as compared with his companion’s; and the conspiracy in which he had taken part absolutely filled him with horror. The inward peace and happiness which Raymond had realized from his devotion to duty strongly impressed him.
But we will not follow him through all the meanderings of his thought. It is enough to say that fellowship with Raymond had made a man of him, and he was fully determined to seek peace in doing his whole duty. He was prepared to do what his companion had counselled him to do,—to return to the Tritonia, and take the consequences of his evil-doing. When his friend awoke, he announced to him his decision. Raymond saw that he was sincere, and he did all he could to confirm and strengthen his good resolution.
“There is one thing about the matter that troubles me,” said Bark, as they seated themselves on deck after dinner. “I am willing to own up, and take the penalty, whatever it may be; but, if I confess that I was engaged in a conspiracy to burn the Tritonia, I shall implicate others,—I shall have to blow on Bill Stout.”
“Well, what right have you to do any thing else?” demanded Raymond earnestly. “Suppose Filipe had killed me last night, and had offered you a thousand dollars to conceal the crime: would it have been right for you to accept the offer?”
“Certainly not.”
“You would be an accomplice if you had. You have no more right to cover up Stout’s crime than you would have to conceal Filipe’s. Besides, the principal ought to know that he has a fellow on board that is bad enough to burn the Tritonia. He may do it with some other fellow yet; and, if he should, you would share the guilt with him.”
“You found out what we were doing,” added Bark.
“And I felt that I ought not to leave the vessel without telling the steward,” replied Raymond. “I certainly intended to inform the principal as soon as I had an opportunity. I believe in boy honor and all that sort of thing as much as you do; but I have no right to let the vessels of the squadron be burned.”
The subject was discussed till dark, and Bark could not resist the arguments of his friend. He was resolved to do his whole duty.
It is not our purpose to follow the fugitives into Africa. They reached Oran the next day, and remained there two weeks, until a steamer left for Malaga, when they returned to Spain.
“That’s the American Prince, as true as you live!” exclaimed Bark, as the vessel in which they sailed was approaching Malaga; and both of them had been observing her for an hour.
“She is on her way from Lisbon back to Barcelona; and she will not be in Malaga for a week or more,” replied Raymond.
Before night they were in the hotel in Malaga.