CHAPTER XXII.
THE FRUITS OF REPENTANCE.
The mail for the squadron—forwarded by the principal’s banker in Barcelona—had been following the fleet down the coast for a week, but was received soon after it anchored at Carthagena. Among the letters was one from Don Manuel, Raymond’s uncle in New York. He was astonished that his nephew had ventured into Spain, when he had been cautioned not to do so. He was glad he had left his vessel, and hoped the principal would do nothing to bring him back. It was extremely important that his nephew should not be restored to his uncle in Barcelona, for reasons which Henry would explain if necessary. If the fugitive was, by any mischance, captured by Don Alejandro or his agents, Don Manuel wished to be informed of the fact at once by cable; and it would be his duty to hasten to Spain without delay.
Mr. Lowington was greatly astonished at this letter, and handed it to Dr. Winstock. It seemed to indicate that a satisfactory explanation could be given of the singular conduct of the second master of the Tritonia, and that he would be able to justify his course.
“That is not the kind of letter I expected to receive,” said the principal, when the surgeon had read it.
“There is evidently some family quarrel which Don Manuel does not wish to disclose to others,” replied the doctor.
“But Don Manuel ought to have informed me that he did not wish to have his nephew taken into Spain.”
“We can’t tell about that till we know all the facts in the case. I have no doubt that the uncle in Barcelona is the legal guardian of Enrique Raimundo,” continued the doctor.
“Then how did the boy come into the possession of Don Manuel?”
“I don’t know; but he seems to be actuated by very strong motives, for he is coming to Spain if the young man falls into the hands of his legal guardian. I don’t understand it; but I am satisfied that it is a case for the lawyers to work upon.”
“I think not; for Don Manuel seems to believe that the safety of his nephew can only be secured by keeping him out of Spain; in other words, that he has no case which he is willing to take into a Spanish court.”
“Perhaps you are right; but it looks to me like a fortune for the lawyers to pick upon; though I must say that Don Francisco is one of the most gentlemanly and obliging attorneys I ever met, and seems to ask for nothing that is not perfectly fair.”
They could not solve the problem; and it was no use to discuss it. The principal had done all he could to recover the second master of the Tritonia, or rather to assist the detective who was in search of him. The last news of him, brought by Bill Stout, was that the fugitive had gone to Africa. The alguacil had gone to Africa, but Raimundo had left before he arrived. He was unable to obtain any clew to him, for Raymond looked like Spaniards in general; and in the dress he had put on in Valencia he did not look like Raymond in the uniform of an officer. While the fugitive was sunning himself in Gibraltar, the pursuer was looking for him in Italy and Egypt. The principal was confident he had gone to the East, for runaways would not expose themselves to capture till their money was all gone. Besides, some of the officers of the Tritonia said that Raymond had often expressed a desire to visit Egypt and the Holy Land.
The affairs of the squadron went along smoothly for six weeks. The students were studious, now that they had nothing to distract their attention. Bill Stout staid in the brig till he promised to learn his lessons, and then was let out. He did not like the brig after the trap in the floor was screwed down so that he could not raise it. Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs fell out with him; first, because he had run away without them, and, second, because he was a disagreeable and unreasonable fellow. Bill did study his lessons in order to keep out of the brig; but he was behind every class in the vessel, and his ignorance was so dense that the professors were disgusted with him. It was about six weeks after the squadron took up its quarters in the harbor of Carthagena, that a shore-boat came up to the gangway, and Bark Lingall stepped upon the deck of the Tritonia. Of course his heart beat violently; but he came back like the Prodigal Son. He was wiser and better than when he left, and he was ready to submit cheerfully to the penalty of his offence; and he expected to be committed to the brig as soon as he showed himself to the principal.
It was nearly dark when the prodigal boarded the Tritonia, and Scott was in charge of the anchor watch which had been set for the night. He looked at Bark as he came up the side; and, though the fugitive had changed his dress, he recognized him at once.
“Lingall!” exclaimed Scott. “You haven’t made a mistake as Stout did; have you?”
“I don’t know what mistake Stout made, except the mistake of running away; and I made that one with him,” replied Bark.
“Stout came on board of the Prince at Lisbon, thinking she was a steamer bound to England,” laughed Scott.
“I could not mistake the Tritonia for a steamer, even if I wanted to go to England.”
“Where did you leave Raimundo?” asked the officer anxiously.
“Here is a letter from him for you; and that will explain it all. I wish to see the vice-principal,” continued Bark.
Mr. Pelham was summoned, and he gave a good-natured greeting to the returned fugitive, not doubting that he had spent all his money in riotous living, and had come back because he could not travel any more without funds.
“Money all gone, Lingall?” asked the vice-principal, who, like his superior, believed that satire was an effective means of discipline at times.
“No, sir: I have over fifty pounds left,” replied Bark, more respectfully than he had formerly been in the habit of speaking, even to the principal.
“What did you come back for, then?” demanded Mr. Pelham.
“Because I am sorry for what I have done, and ask to be forgiven,” answered Bark, taking off his hat, and fixing his gaze upon the deck, while his bosom was swelling with emotion.
The vice-principal was touched by his manner. He had stood in the same position before the principal five years before; and he indulged in no more light words. He took the prodigal down into his cabin, so that whatever passed between them might have no witnesses.
“Do you come back voluntarily, Lingall?” asked the vice-principal in gentle tones.
“I do, sir: I left Cadiz three days ago. I had been waiting there a month for the squadron to arrive. We did not know where it was, for the last we could learn of it was its arrival in Carthagena.”
“You say we: were you not alone?”
“No, sir: Raymond was with me.”
“Who is Raymond?”
“Raimundo: he has translated his name into English, and now prefers to be called by that name.”
“And you left him in Cadiz?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is he there now?”
“I don’t know, sir; but I think not. He did not tell me where he was going, and I did not wish to know.”
“I see,” added Mr. Pelham. “I hope he will not be taken by those who are after him.”
Bark looked up, utterly astonished at this last remark; for he supposed the sympathies of the officers were with Don Francisco, as they had been at the time he left the Tritonia. As Mr. Pelham was in the confidence of the principal in regard to the affair of the second master, he had been permitted to read the letter from Don Manuel; and this fact will explain the remark.
“Raymond does not know from what port the squadron will sail for the islands; but he wants to return to his ship as soon as he can,” added Bark.
As Raymond’s case seemed to be of more interest than his own, Bark told all he knew about his late companion; but no one was any wiser in regard to his present hiding-place.
“Where have you been all this time?” asked the vice-principal, when his curiosity was fully satisfied concerning Raymond.
“I have been a good deal worse than you think I have; and I wish that running away was the worst thing I had on my conscience,” replied Bark, in answer to this question.
“I am sorry to hear you say that; but, whatever you have done, it is better to make a clean breast of it,” added Mr. Pelham.
“That is what I am going to do, sir,” replied Bark; and he prefaced his confession with what had passed between Raymond and himself when he decided upon his course of action.
He related the substance of his conversations with Bill Stout at the beginning of the conspiracy, and then proceeded to inform the vice-principal what had occurred while they were in the brig together, including the setting of the fire in the hold.
“Do you mean to say that Stout intended to burn the vessel?” demanded Mr. Pelham, astonished and shocked at the revelation.
“He and I so intended; and we actually started the fire three or four times,” answered Bark, detailing all the particulars.
“You are very tender of Stout—the villain!” exclaimed the vice-principal. “It appears that he proposed the plan, and set the fire, while you assented to the act.”
“I don’t wish to make it out that I am not just as guilty as Stout.”
“I understand you perfectly,” added Mr. Pelham. “The villain pretended to be penitent when he came back, and told lies enough to sink the ship, if they had had any weight with me. Mr. Marline reported to me that there had been fire in the old stuff in the hold. I thought there was some mistake about it; but it is all plain enough now.”
Bark proceeded with his narrative of the escape, which had been before related by Bill Stout; but the two stories differed in some respects, especially in respect to the conduct of Bill in the affray with the Catalonian in the felucca. He told about his wanderings and waitings with Raymond, which explained why he had not come back before.
“Stout said that you and he pulled the boatman down when Raimundo missed him with the tiller,” said Mr. Pelham.
“I mean to tell the truth, if I know how; but Bill did not lift his finger to do any thing, not even after Raymond and I had the fellow down,” replied Bark. “Raymond called him a coward on the spot; and I wish he were here to tell you so, for I know you would believe him.”
“And I believe you, Lingall.”
At this moment there was a knock at the state-room door.
“Come in,” said the principal; and Scott opened the door at this summons.
“I have a letter from Mr. Raimundo, sir, in which he has a great deal to say about Lingall,” said the lieutenant. “I thought you might wish to know what he says before you settle this case. I will leave it with you, sir; for there is nothing private in it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” replied the vice-principal, as he took the letter.
He opened and read the letter. It related entirely to the affairs of Lingall, and was an earnest plea for his forgiveness. It recited all the incidents of the cruise in the felucca, and the particulars of Bark’s reformation. The writer added that he hoped to be able to join his ship soon; and should do so, if he could, when she was out of Spanish waters.
“Now, Lingall, you may go on board of the Prince with me,” said Mr. Pelham, when he had finished reading the letter.
A boat was manned, and they were pulled to the steamer. The whole story was gone over again; and Mr. Lowington read the letter of Raymond. The principal and Mr. Pelham had a long consultation alone; and then Bark was ordered to return to his duty, without so much as a reprimand. Bark was bewildered at this unexpected clemency. He was satisfied that it was Raymond’s letter that saved him, because it assured the principal of the thorough reformation of the culprit. The vice-principal told him afterwards, that it was as much his own confession of the conspiracy, which was not even suspected on board, as it was the letter, that produced the leniency in the minds of the authorities. The boat that brought Mr. Pelham and Bark back to the Tritonia immediately conveyed Bill Stout, in charge of Peaks, to the Prince, where he was committed to the brig, without any explanation of the charge against him.
Bill did not know what to make of this sharp discipline; and he felt very much like a martyr, for he believed he had been “a good boy,” as he called the chaplain’s lambs. He had time to think about it when the bars separated him from the rest of his shipmates. The news that Bark Lingall had returned was circulated through the Tritonia before he left the vessel. He could only explain his present situation by the supposition that Bark had told about the conspiracy to burn the vessel. This must be the reason why he was caged in the Prince rather than in the Tritonia.
For three days the stewards brought him his food; and for an hour, each forenoon, the big boatswain walked him up and down the deck to give him his exercise; but it was in vain that he asked them what he was caged for. As none of these officials knew, none of them could tell him. On the fourth day of his confinement, a meeting of the faculty was held for consultation in regard to the affairs of the squadron. This was the high court of the academy, and consisted of the principal, the vice-principals, the chaplain, the surgeon, and the professors,—fourteen in all. Though the authority of the principal was supreme, he preferred to have this council to advise him in important matters.
When the faculty had assembled, Peaks brought Bill Stout into the cabin, and placed him at the end of the long table at which the members were seated. He was awed and impressed by the situation. The principal stated that the culprit was charged with attempting to set fire to the Tritonia, and asked what he had to say for himself. Bill made haste to deny the charge with all his might; but he might as well have denied his own existence. Raymond’s letter describing what he saw in the hold was read, but the parts relating to Bark were omitted. Bill supposed the letter was the only evidence against him, and the writer had spared Bark because he was a friend. Bill declared that Raymond hated him, and had made up this story to injure him. He had been trying to do his duty, and no complaint had been made against him since the fleet had been at anchor.
The chaplain thought a student ought not to be condemned on the evidence of one who had run away from his vessel. As Bill would not be satisfied, it became necessary to call Bark Lingall. The reformed seaman gave his evidence in the form of a confession; and, when he had finished his story, no one doubted his sincerity, or the truth of his statement. By a unanimous vote of the faculty, approved by the principal, Bill Stout was dismissed from the academy as one whom it was not safe to have on board any of the vessels, and as one whose character was too bad to allow him to associate with the students. A letter to his father was written; and he was sent home in charge of the carpenter of the Josephine, who was about to return to New York on account of the illness of his son.
The particulars of this affair were kept from the students; for the principal did not wish to have them know that any one had attempted to burn one of the vessels, lest it might tempt some other pupil to seek a dismissal by the same means. Bill Stout was glad to be sent away, even in disgrace.
Early in March Mr. Lowington received a letter from Don Francisco, asking if any thing had been heard from Raymond, and informing him that his client Don Alejandro was dangerously sick. The principal, since he had received the letter from Don Manuel, had declined to assist in the search for the absentee, though he had not communicated his views to the lawyer. The detective had not returned from his tour in the East, and was doubtless willing to continue the search as long as he was paid for it. The principal was “a square man;” and he informed Don Francisco that his views on the subject had changed, and that he hoped the fugitive would not be captured. Ten days after this letter was answered came Don Francisco himself. He went on board of the Prince; and, in spite of the reply of the principal, he was as cordial and courteous as ever.
“I suppose you have received my letter, declining to do any thing more to secure the return of the absentee,” Mr. Lowington began, when they were seated in the grand saloon.
“I have received it,” replied Don Francisco; “but now all the circumstances of the case are changed, and I am confident that you will do all you can to find the young man. Your letter came to me on the day before the funeral of my client.”
“Then Don Alejandro is dead!” exclaimed the principal, startled by the intelligence.
“He died in the greatest agony and remorse,” added the lawyer. “He was sick four weeks, and suffered the most intense pain till death relieved him. He confessed to me, when I went to make his will, that he had intended to get his nephew out of the way in some manner, before the boy was of an age to inherit his father’s property. Don Manuel had charged him with this purpose before he left Spain, and had repeated the charge in his letters. He confessed because he wanted his brother’s forgiveness, as well as that of the Church. He wished me to see that justice was done to his nephew. When I wrote you that last letter, my client desired to see the young man, and to implore his forgiveness for the injury he had done him as a child, and for that he had meditated.”
“This is a very singular story,” said Mr. Lowington. “You did not give me the reason for which Don Alejandro wished to see his nephew.”
“I did not know it myself. What I have related transpired since I wrote that letter. The case is one of the remarkable ones; but I have known a few just like it,” continued the lawyer. “My client was told by the physicians that he could not recover. Such an announcement to a Christian who has committed a crime—and to meditate it is the same thing in the eye of the Church, though not of the law—could not but change the whole current of his thoughts. I know that it caused my client more suffering than his bodily ailments, severe as the latter were. The terrors of the world to come haunted him; and he believed, that, if he did not do justice to that young man before he died, he would suffer for his crime through all the ages of eternity; and I believe so too. I think he confessed the crime to me, after he had done so to the priest, because he believed his son, who had been in his confidence, would carry out his wicked purpose after his father was gone; for this son would inherit the estate as the next heir under the will of the grandfather.”
“I can understand how things appear to a man as wicked as your client was, when death stares him in the face,” added Mr. Lowington.
“Now the young man is wanted. He is not of age, but he ought to have a voice in the selection of his guardian.”
“I don’t know where he is under the altered circumstances, any more than I did before,” replied the principal; “but I am willing to make an effort to find him. Is he in any danger from the son of your late client?”
“None at all: the son denies that he ever had any knowledge of the business; and, since the confession of the father, the son would not dare to do any thing wrong. Besides, my client put all the property in my hands before he died.”
The next thing was to find Raymond. He might see the announcement of the death of his uncle in the newspapers; but, if he did not, he would be sure to keep out of the way till the squadron was ready to sail for the “isles of the sea.” Mr. Lowington sent for Bark Lingall, who had by this time established his character as one of the best-behaved and most earnest students in his vessel. The principal rehearsed the events that made it desirable to find Raymond.
“Do you think you could find him, Lingall?” asked Mr. Lowington.
“I think I might if I could speak Spanish,” replied Bark modestly.
“You and Scott are the only students who know his history; and he would allow you to approach him, while he would keep out of the way of any other person connected with the squadron. We shall sail for Malaga to-morrow; and you shall have a courier to do your talking for you,” continued the principal.
Bark was pleased with the mission. He was furnished with a letter from Don Francisco; and, as he had some idea of what Raymond’s plans were, he was hopeful of success. The squadron sailed the next day, and arrived at Malaga in thirty hours.