Down the Rhine; Or, Young America in Germany by Oliver Optic (romantic books to read .txt) 📗

be forming a party of his own. "And the next time the call was made, a lot more would slump. Before long we should be so reduced in numbers that the brig would hold us all, and a few of us would have to stand the punishment for the sins of the crowd. You led us into the scrape; now you must help us out of it."

"Who led you into it?" asked Raymond, indignantly.

"You and your fellows, of course," retorted the heavy champion.

"I don't see it."

"Don't you? Then you are as green as a tame pigeon," continued Howe, smartly. "Our fellows—of course you know I mean those who ran away in the Josephine—are under the ban already. Did you suppose we were going into an affair like this alone? Not much! We went in because you did; to back up your movement. Now we are in it, you want to back out, and let your fellows show the white feather."

"I don't mean to back out," protested Raymond.

"But those fellows out there do," added the wily rogue.

"Well, there are thirty of us here, who will stick to the end. What do you say, fellows?"

"Of course we will," replied several, very mildly.

"Will you agree, upon your word and honor, to stick as long as any one does?"

"That depends upon circumstances," interposed Lindsley.

"I suppose it does," sneered Howe. "It isn't fair to leave us to bear the brunt of the whole."

"All we ever proposed to do was simply to refuse to do duty till we had explained our position to the principal," added Raymond.

"And kiss the rod, whether you get fair play or not," replied Howe.

"We can't do anything more than that. When the principal understands that over forty of us are dissatisfied, we have gained our point."

"Have you indeed!" flouted Howe. "Then I fancy you have already gained it, for he has found out that you are dissatisfied by this time."

"Well, what do you want to do?" demanded Raymond.

"It's no use to mince the matter. We have made a failure of it so far. The lambs on deck are having a good time, laughing, cheering, and carrying on—making game of us, no doubt, while we are shut up here as prisoners," replied Howe, rolling up his sleeves, as though he intended to do something savage. "We ought to make ourselves felt, which we haven't done yet, for the rest of the ship's company seem to regard our movement as a good joke, and to think we are having the worst of it. Well, I think we are; and we must make ourselves felt."

"Do you call it making yourselves felt when you are pounded on the head with belaying pins, as you were in the Josephine?" inquired Lindsley, dryly.

"We raised a breeze there, and we are bound to do it here."

"A breeze that first knocks you down yourself. I would rather have the wind blow another way," added Raymond.

"I don't mean to get up a fight, or anything of that sort."

"Well, what do you mean?" asked Raymond, impatiently.

"We have plans of our own; but we are not going to disclose them till we have some assurance that the other fellows will stand by us," answered the cautious leader of the intense party. "We are going to make ourselves felt."

"We are not going to agree to anything without knowing what it is," said Lindsley.

"And we are not going to let on to fellows that may go to the principal, and blow the whole thing. I will say this: If your fellows will pledge themselves, word and honor, to stand by us to the end, I will agree that the ship shall return to Havre, or some other port in France, within twenty-four hours, and that the tables shall be turned in our favor."

"How are you going to do it?" asked Lindsley.

"Leave that to me. I have a plan which cannot fail. Do the fair thing by us, and we will get you out of the scrape."

"I will agree to this, and nothing more: I will stand out till we have a chance to be heard," replied Raymond, who began to have some hope of the mysterious movements of Howe. "I will do nothing but stand out."

"We don't ask you to do anything else. We will do the rest, if you back us up."

"We don't back you up, for we don't even know what you are going to do."

"We will tell you what we are going to do."

"Hold on! Perhaps we had better not know anything about it," interposed Raymond.

"No, you don't!" exclaimed Howe. "We will tell those who will take the oath."

"The oath!" ejaculated Lindsley. "Are we joining the Knights of the Golden Fleece?"

"No, no! I mean the promise," answered Howe, impatiently. "Word and honor—that's all I want."

The runaway portion of the rebels were doubtless already familiar with the extraordinary means which was to turn the ship back to the ports of France. The others, who attended the meeting, were largely influenced by curiosity. They were intensely mortified at the defeat, which they were unwilling to acknowledge. It would afford them immense satisfaction to have the tables turned in their favor; but they were utterly unable to imagine what powerful machinery Howe and his associates could bring to bear upon the obdurate principal; how they were to compel him to put the ship about, and return to France.

The mild party retired to consider whether it would be prudent for them to enter into a compact of this description with such dangerous characters as the runaways. They were prejudiced against the measure, but victory in the undertaking, in which they had engaged, was so earnestly coveted, that they were tempted to join hands even with Howe, Little, Wilton, and other desperate fellows. When a person has once gone astray, the inducements to go farther increase. But Raymond and his friends were not quite willing to pledge themselves in advance to measures which they were not allowed to understand; and they finally agreed to bind themselves to secrecy, in regard to the nature of the scheme, if Howe would explain it on these terms, and then engage in it if it were not too wicked. The party returned to the foremast, and Raymond stated their position.

"That won't go down," promptly replied Howe, with his bullying, self-sufficient air. "We are to tell you what our plan is, and let you adopt it or not, as you please! No, sir!"

"We pledge ourselves beforehand to keep your secret, whether we join with you or not."

"We won't trust you."

"Very well," added Raymond, decidedly. "Nothing more need be said. Come, fellows."

The leader of the mild party turned on his heel, and moved aft, followed by his adherents.

"What do you suppose they mean to do?" asked Lindsley, as they halted under the skylight, near the middle of the steerage.

"I don't know; but it must be something desperate to compel the principal to put back," replied Raymond. "It may be to make a few auger-holes in the bottom of the ship."

"I wouldn't do anything of that sort," added Lindsley, shaking his head.

"No matter what it is; we offered to do the fair thing."

"Suppose you had agreed to keep still, and they had proposed to bore holes in the bottom of the ship; would you have kept your promise, and said nothing about it?" asked Lindsley.

"I would not have let them do it; and then there would have been nothing to conceal," answered Raymond.

"Precisely so! That's a good idea. Why not agree to their proposition, and then, if they mean to do anything which endangers the ship, we can easily prevent them from doing it," said Lindsley, who was exceedingly curious to know what the runaways wished to do.

Others were affected with the same desire, and their curiosity was rapidly overcoming their prudence. While they were discussing the question, Hyde and his party, seeing that Raymond and his associates had withdrawn from the runaways, came to the spot, and disturbed the conference with irrelevant questions. If all the mild mutineers could be induced to cling together, they could easily overrule Howe and his party. Just then, there was not that unity which alone insures success. There were actually three parties in the steerage, and it was necessary to reconcile them, or the rebellion would end in an ignominious failure. But this was found to be quite impossible, so far as Hyde and his party were concerned; for if the boatswain's call had sounded at that moment, they would have returned to their duty, if permitted to do so. Raymond would not consent to make terms with Howe, without the concurrence of all the others, including Hyde.

Howe was quite as much disgusted with the situation as any of the milder rebels. He had hoped and expected to drag them into any desperate scheme which might be adopted, and after Raymond and his party retired, he looked rather blankly at his friends.

"They are nothing but babies—little spoonies!" said he, contemptuously. "It isn't safe to do anything with them."

"Nor without them," suggested Spencer.

"I don't believe that," added Little. "They are in for it already. They will be held responsible for anything done below, as well as we. Let's go on with the job, just as we intended."

After considerable discussion, the suggestion of the little villain was adopted, with a modification, however, proposed by himself, by which the whole party were to be implicated in the mischief. No time was to be lost, for a portion of the faithful, who appeared still to be having a good time on deck, would soon come below to turn in. Howe and Little went to the main scuttle, which opened into the hold, and raised it.

"What are you going to do?" asked Raymond.

"We are going to hide in the hold, just for the fun of the thing," replied Little. "Won't you come down with us?"

"That's not a bad idea," suggested Lindsley. "When they come down to look for us, they won't find us. That will make a sensation, at least, and then we shall not be entirely ignored."

"Are you going to stay there all night?" inquired Raymond.

"Yes—why not?" answered Lindsley. "It is not quite so comfortable a place to sleep as the mess-rooms; but we can stand it for one night."

Even the mild rebels, Hyde and Johnson, were pleased with the plan, for it looked like an adventure. The persuasions of Lindsley induced them to yield whatever scruples they had. It would be a rich thing to have the principal or the officers come down into the steerage, and find it empty. There was still a chance to make the principal do something, even if it were only to call them up for punishment; for anything seemed better than being entirely ignored.

Little and Howe, each with a lantern in his hand, which he had taken from the lamp-room forward, led the way into the hold. All the members of the three parties followed; the mild rebels regarding the movement rather as a piece of fun than as anything which added to the guilt they had already incurred. When the last one had descended the ladder, Howe put on the scuttle, and the steerage was "like some banquet hall deserted," for the stewards were either on deck or in the kitchen, where they spent their leisure hours.

As soon as the rebels were all in the hold, they separated into three parties again, as they had been in the steerage. Little, with his lantern, went forward, where he was soon joined by the rest of the runaways; Hyde and his companions went aft; and Raymond's party remained near the main scuttle. The hold was divided into store-rooms, forward and aft, while the space amidships was devoted to the stowage of boxes, barrels, water casks, and other articles. The water tanks were near the heel of the foremast, where Howe and his party had located themselves. They contained the entire supply of the ship, while she was going from port to port, or lying