CHAPTER XVII.
STRIKING WHILE THE IRON IS HOT.
BURGUNDY is bad stuff for anybody, and especially bad for boys. Clinch found it necessary to keep at a respectful distance from the seamen of his quarter-watch, for he was conscious of being quite unsteady on his feet; of being shaky to a degree that could not be accounted for by the motion of the steamer. But he knew what he was about all the time; and, when he attended to the heaving of the log, he kept up a constant shouting to the hands at the line, to stimulate their interest in their work, and thus prevent them from observing him. But the very thickness of his tones as he spoke was enough to betray him, if there had been any one present who was accustomed to this phase of intoxication.
Alexander had found it more difficult to keep awake after he had loaded himself with Burgundy than it was before. If he kept his seat, he was sure to fall asleep; and several times he “lost himself.” He knew that the captain had a habit of prowling about the deck at all hours of the night, as well as of the day; and for this reason he felt obliged to keep on his feet during the remainder of his watch, for it would have ruined him to have the commander find him asleep at his post. He did not consider the Burgundy experiment a success.
Gregory slept like a log in his state-room till eight o’clock, when all hands were called. He got out of his berth with an aching head, and was as cross as a spoiled child. He went to breakfast; but the strong wine had destroyed his appetite so that he could not taste food, and he only drank a cup of coffee. When the meal was finished, Capt. Fairfield, who had prepared the forward part of the cabin for a schoolroom, summoned the starboard watch to attend to their recitations. The lessons had been assigned the day before; and the port-watch, composed of the officers and seamen from the Tritonia, had faithfully studied them. Richards had done so while on duty in the engine-room, for he had not work enough to keep him employed half of the time. He was so accustomed to watching the gauge and the motion of the machinery, that he could do it mechanically, as one writes with a pen without thinking that he is writing. The chief engineer had also studied his lessons when he ought to have been asleep.
Gregory heard the summons to the recitation. He had not studied his lessons, and the call was an unpleasant one to him. The after-effect of the heavy drams of Burgundy he had taken was not only to make him cross, like a wilful child, but as ugly as a hungry wild beast. He looked at the Josephines of the starboard watch, as they passed into the cabin; and they appeared to him like lambs going to the slaughter. Not that they all, or even many of them, objected to the recitations; but he judged them by himself, and interpreted their feelings by his own. He was utterly opposed to the quarter-watch arrangement, which seemed to be connected with the study scheme, inasmuch as it afforded every student his needed recreation without interfering with his lessons in ordinary weather. He wanted the four hours’ leisure when his watch was off duty.
Before the students had all seated themselves at the tables arranged for study purposes, Clinch came to the main door of the cabin, at which Gregory was standing. They had been cronies since they came into the Josephine, and each understood the other perfectly. Like many others, they had both been sent to the academy squadron after being expelled from other literary institutions. They would have passed for bad boys before; but the novel discipline of the nautical school had at least produced a temporary reform. They had not been made over in their minds and hearts, as many had; but they had been transformed into obedient sailors and diligent scholars. This was not enough; but it was better than nothing. Gregory was fourth lieutenant, and Clinch third master, of the Josephine; and no doubt they had fairly won these positions by their attention and zeal.
“Bob Clinch,” called Gregory, as the third officer was passing into the cabin.
“What do you want, Dave?” demanded Clinch.
“I want to see you.”
“What for?”