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?”