“Very good; but we cannot get over the fact that you come from Genoa, where the smallpox is prevailing badly. Vessels from that port are quarantined at Marseilles for from three days to a fortnight; but I shall not be hard with you, as you have a skilful surgeon on board,” replied the health officer, touching his hat to Dr. Winstock; “but my orders from the authorities are imperative that all vessels from infected or doubtful ports shall be fumigated before any person from them is allowed to land in the city. We have had the yellow fever so severely all summer that we are very cautious.”
“Is it necessary to fumigate?” asked Dr. Winstock, with a smile.
“The authorities require it, and I am not at liberty to dispense with it,” answered the official. “But it will detain you only a few hours. You will land the ship’s company of each vessel, and they will be fumigated on shore. While they are absent our people will purify the vessels.”
“Is there any yellow fever in the city now?” asked the surgeon of the fleet.
“None at all. The frost has entirely killed it; but we have many patients who are recovering from the disease. The people who went away have all returned, and we call the city healthy.”
The quarantine grounds were pointed out to the principal; and the fleet was soon at anchor within a cable’s length of the shore. Study and recitation were suspended for the rest of the day. All the boats of the American Prince were manned; her fires were banked; the entire ship’s company were transferred to the shore; and the vessel was given up to the quarantine officers, who boarded her and proceeded with their work. In a couple of hours the steamer and her crew were disposed of; and then came the turn of the Josephine, for only one vessel could be treated at a time.
When all hands were mustered on board of the Tritonia, the two delinquents in the brig were let out to undergo the inspection with the others. The decision of the health officer requiring the vessels to be fumigated, and the fact that the process would require but a few hours, were passed through each of the schooners as well as the steamer, and in a short time were known to every student in the fleet. As usual they were disposed to make fun of the situation, though it was quite a sensation for the time. During the excitement Bark Lingall improved the opportunity to confer with Lon Gibbs and Ben Pardee. Lon was willing to undertake any thing that Bark suggested. Ben was rather a prudent fellow, but soon consented to take part in the enterprise. Certainly neither of these worthies would have assented if the proposition to join had been made by Bill Stout, in whom they had as little confidence as Bark had manifested. The alliance had hardly been agreed upon before the vice-principal happened to see the four marines talking together, and ordered Marline to recommit two of them to the brig. The boatswain locked them into their prison, and left them to their own reflections. The excitement on deck was still unabated, and the cabins and steerage were deserted even by the stewards.
“I think our time has come,” said Bill Stout, after he had satisfied himself that no one but the occupants of the brig was in the steerage. “If we don’t strike at once we shall lose our chance, for they say we are going up to the city to-night.”
“They will have to let us out to be fumigated with the rest of the crew,” answered Bark Lingall. “We haven’t drawn lots yet, either.”
“Never mind the lot now: I will do the job myself,” replied Bill magnanimously. “I should rather like the fun of it.”