CHAPTER XVI.
BILL STOUT AS A TOURIST.
Bill Stout indulged in some very severe reflectionsupon the conduct of his fellow–conspiratorwhen he found that he was alone in the compartmentwhere he had spent the night. The porter who wokehim told him very respectfully (he was a first–classpassenger), in good Spanish for a man in his position,that the train was to be run out of the station. Billcouldn’t understand him, but he left the car.
“Where are the fellows that came with me?” heasked, turning to the porter; but the man shook hishead, and smiled as blandly as though the runaway hadgiven him a _peseta_.
Bill was not much troubled with bashfulness; and hewalked about the station, accosting a dozen personswhom he met; but not one of them seemed to knowa word of English.
“_No hablo Ingles_,” was the uniform reply of all.One spoke to him in French; but, though Bill hadstudied this language, he had not gone far enough tobe able to speak even a few words of it. He went intothe street, and a crowd of carriage–drivers salutedhim.
“Hotel,” said he, satisfied by this time that it wasof no use to talk English to anybody in Spain.
As this word is known to all languages, he got on sofar very well.
“_Hotel Villa de Madrid!_” shouted one of the drivers.
Though Bill’s knowledge of geography was verylimited, he had heard of Madrid, and he identified thisword in the speech of the man. He bowed to him toindicate that he was ready to go to the hotel he named.He was invited to take a seat in a _tartana_, a two–wheeledvehicle not much easier than a tip–cart, and driven tothe hotel. Bill did not look like a very distinguishedguest, for he wore the garb of a common sailor when hetook off his overcoat. He had not even put on his bestrig, as he did not go ashore in regular form. He spoketo the porter who received him at the door, in English,thinking it was quite proper for those about a hotel tospeak all languages. But this man seemed to be nobetter linguist than the rest of the Spaniards; and hemade no reply.
The guest was conducted to the hall where the landlord,or the manager of the hotel, addressed him inSpanish, and Bill replied in English.
“_Habla V. Frances?_” asked the manager.
“I don’t _hablo_ any thing but English,” replied Bill,beginning to be disgusted with his ill–success in findingany one who could understand him.
“_Parlez–vous Français?_” persisted the manager.
“No. I don’t _parlez–vous_.”
“_Parlate voi Italiano?_”
“No: I tell you I don’t speak any thing but English,”growled Bill.
“_Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_”
“No; no Dutch.”
The manager shrugged his shoulders, and evidentlyfelt that he had done enough, having addressed theguest in four languages.
“Two fellows—no comee here?” continued Bill,trying his luck with pigeon English.
Of course the manager shook his head at this absurdlingo; and Bill was obliged to give up in despair. Themanager called a servant, and sent him out; and theguest hoped that something might yet happen. Heseated himself on a sofa, and waited for the waters tomove.
“I want some breakfast,” said Bill when he hadwaited half an hour; and as he spoke he pointed to hismouth, and worked his teeth, to illustrate his argument.
The manager took out his watch, and pointed to the“X” upon the dial, to indicate that the meal would beready at that hour. A little later the servant came inwith another man, who proved to be an English–speakingcitizen of Valencia. He was a _valet de place_, orguide.
With his aid Bill ascertained that “two young fellows”had not been to the Hotel Villa de Madrid thatmorning. He also obtained a room, and some coffeeand bread to last him till breakfast time. When hehad taken his coffee, he went with the man to all thehotels in the place. It was nearly ten o’clock when hereached the _Fonda del Cid_. Two young gentlemen, oneof them an officer, had just breakfasted at the hotel,and left for Grao, the port of Valencia, two miles distant,where they were to embark in a steamer whichwas to sail for Oran at ten. Bill had not the least ideawhere Oran was; and, when he asked his guide, he wasastonished to learn that it was in Africa, a seaport ofAlgeria. Then he was madder than ever; for he wouldhave been very glad to take a trip to Africa, and seesomething besides churches and palaces. He dweltheavily upon the trick that Bark had played him. Itwas ten o’clock then, and it would not be possible toreach Grao before half–past ten. He could try it; thesteamer might not sail as soon as advertised: theywere often detained.
Bill did try it, but the steamer was two miles at seawhen he reached the port. He engaged the guide forthe day, after an effort to beat him down in his price ofsix _pesetas_. He went back to the hotel, and ate hisbreakfast. There was plenty of _Val de Peñas_ wine onthe table, and he drank all he wanted. Then he went tohis room to take a nap before he went out to see thesights of the place. Instead of sleeping an hour as heintended, he did not wake till three o’clock in the afternoon.The wine had had its effect upon him. Hefound the guide waiting for him in the hall below. Theman insisted that he should go to the cathedral; andwhen they had visited that it was dinner–time.
“How much do I owe you now?” asked Bill, when hecame to settle with the guide.
“Six _pesetas_,” replied the man. “That is the priceI told you.”
“But I have not had you but half a day: from eleventill three you did not do any thing for me,” blusteredBill in his usual style.
“But I was ready to go with you, and waited all thattime for you,” pleaded the guide.
“Here is four _pesetas_, and that is one more than youhave earned,” added Bill, tendering him the silver.
The man refused to accept the sum; and they hadquite a row about it. Finally the guide appealed to themanager of the hotel, who promptly decided that six_pesetas_ was the amount due the man. Bill paid itunder protest, but added that he wanted the guide thenext day.
“I shall go with you no more,” replied the man, ashe put the money into his pocket. “I work for gentlemenonly.”
“I will pay you for all the time you go with me,”protested Bill; but the guide was resolute, and left thehotel.
The next morning Bill used his best endeavors toobtain another guide; but for a time he was unable tomake anybody comprehend what he wished. An Englishmanwho spoke Spanish, and was a guest at thehotel, helped him out at breakfast, and told the managerwhat the young man wanted.
“I will not send for a guide for him,” replied themanager; and then he explained to the tourist in whatmanner Bill had treated his valet the day before, all ofwhich the gentleman translated to him.
But we cannot follow Bill in all his struggles withthe language, or in all his wanderings about Valencia.He paid his bill at the hotel _Villa de Madrid_, and wentto another. On his way he bought a new suit ofclothes, and discarded for the present his uniform,which attracted attention wherever he was. He wentto the _Fonda del Cid_ next; but he could not obtain aguide who spoke English: the only one they evercalled in was engaged to an English party for a week.The manager spoke English, but he was seldom in thehouse. In some of the shops they spoke English; butBill was almost as much alone as though he had beenon a deserted island. The days wore heavy on hishands; and about all he could do was to drink _Val dePeñas_, and sleep it off. He wanted to leave Valencia,but knew not where to go. He desired to get out ofSpain; and he had tried to get the run of the Englishsteamers; but as he could not read the posters, oroften find any one to read them for him, he had nosuccess.
He was heartily tired of the place, and even moredisgusted than he had been on board of the Tritonia.He desired to go to England, where he could speakthe language of the country; but no vessel for Englandcame along, so far as he could ascertain. One day anEnglish gentleman arrived at the hotel; and Bill got upa talk with him, as he did with everybody who couldspeak his own language. He told him he wanted toget to England; and the tourist advised him to crossSpain and Portugal by rail, and take a steamer at Lisbon,where one s
ailed every week for Southampton orLiverpool, and sometimes two or three a week.
Bill adopted this suggestion, and in the afternoonstarted for Lisbon. He had been nearly a week inValencia, and the change was very agreeable to him.He found a gentleman who spoke English, in thecompartment with him; and he got along without anytrouble till he reached Alcazar, where his travellingfriend changed cars for Madrid. But, before he leftthe train, he told Bill that he was too late to connectfor Lisbon, and that he would have to wait till half–pastone in the afternoon. He could obtain plenty toeat in the station; but that ten hours of waiting at amiserable shed of a station was far worse than learninga lesson in navigation. He was on the high land, only ninetymiles from Madrid, and it was cold in the night.There was no fire to warm him, and he had to walk tokeep himself comfortable. He could not speak a wordto any person; and, when any one spoke to him, hehad learned to say, “_No hablo._” He had picked up afew words of Spanish, so that he could get what hewanted 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 togo 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, andreached the railroad station at six o’clock. As at thehotel, he gave the ticket–seller a paper and pencil; andhe 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 hadimproved a good deal in knowledge since he wasthrown on his own resources. He waited till the trainarrived from Madrid. It was quite a long one; butthe conductor seemed to know just where the vacantseats were, and led him to the last carriage, where hewas assigned a place in a compartment in which fourpassengers occupied the corners, and seemed to be allasleep. The runaway took one of the middle seats.He only hoped, that, when the daylight came, he mighthear 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 theirovercoats, so that he could not see them after theconductor carried his lantern away.
The train started; and Bill, for the want of somethingbetter to do, went to sleep himself. His bed atthe hotel had been occupied by a myriad of “_cosas deEspaña_” before he got into it; and his slumbers hadbeen much disturbed. He slept till the sun broke inthrough the window of the compartment. He heard hisfellow–travellers conversing in English; and, when hewas fairly awake, he was immediately conscious that agentleman who sat in one of the opposite corners wasstudying his features. But, as soon as Bill opened hiseyes, 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 solitarywanderings had come to an end.
The principal knew every student in the fleet; butBill’s head had been half concealed, and his dress hadbeen entirely changed, so that he did not fully identifyhim till he opened his eyes, and raised his head. Theother persons in the compartment were Dr. Winstock,the captain, and the first lieutenant of the Prince.
“Good–morning, Stout,” said Mr. Lowington, assoon as he was sure that the new–comer was one ofthe runaways from the Tritonia.
Of course Bill was taken all aback when he realizedthat he was on the train with the ship’s company ofthe Prince. But the principal was good–natured, as healways was; and he smiled as he spoke. Bill hadunwittingly run into the camp of the enemy; and thatsmile assured him that he was to be laughed at, inaddition to whatever punishment might be inflictedupon him; and the laugh, to him, was the worst of it.
“Good–morning, sir,” replied Bill sheepishly; andhe had not the courage to be silent as he desired to bein that presence.
“Have you had a good time, Stout?” asked Mr.Lowington.
“Not very good,” answered Bill; and by this timethe eyes of the doctor and his two pupils, who had notnoticed him before, were fixed upon the culprit.
“Where is Lingall?” inquired the principal. “Ishe on the train with you?”
“No, sir: he and Raimundo ran away from me inValencia.”
“Raimundo!” exclaimed Mr. Lowington. “Washe with you?”
“Yes, sir; and they played me a mean trick,” addedBill, who had not yet recovered from his indignation onaccount of his desertion, and was disposed to do hislate associates all the harm he could.
“They ran away from you, as you did from the restof us,” laughed the principal, who knew Stout so wellthat he could not blame his companions for desertinghim. “Do you happen to know where they havegone?”
“They left Valencia in a steamer at ten o’clock inthe forenoon;” and Bill recited the particulars of hissearch for his late companions, feeling all the time thathe was having some part of his revenge upon them fortheir meanness to him.
“But where was the steamer bound?” asked theprincipal.
“For Oban,” replied Bill, getting it wrong, as he wasvery apt to do with geographical names.
“Oban; that’s in Scotland. No steamer in Valenciacould be bound to Oban,” added Mr. Lowington.
“This place is not in Scotland: it is in Africa,” Billexplained.
“He means Oran,” suggested Dr. Winstock.
“That’s the place.”
Bill knew nothing in regard to the intended movementsof Raimundo and Bark.
“How happened Raimundo to be with you?” askedthe principal. “He left the Tritonia the night beforewe came from Barcelona.”
“No, sir: he did not leave her at all. He was inthe hold all the time.”
As Bill was very willing to tell all he knew abouthis fellow–conspirator and the second master,—exceptthat Bark and himself had tried to set the vessel onfire,—he related all the details of the escape, and thetrip to Tarragona, including the affray with the boatman.He told the truth in the main, though he didnot bring out the fact of his own cowardice, or dwellupon the cause of the quarrel between himself and hiscompanions.
“And how happened you to be here, and on thistrain? Did you know we were on board of it?”inquired the principal.
“I did not know you were on this train; but I knewyou were over this way somewhere.”
“And you were going to look for us,” laughed Mr.Lowington, who believed that the fellow’s ignorancehad caused him to blunder into this locality at thewrong time.
“I was not looking for you, but for the Tritonias,”replied Bill, who had come to the conclusion that penitencewas his best dodge under the circumstances. “Iwas going over to Lisbon to give myself up to Mr. Pelham.”
“Indeed! were you?”
“Yes, sir: I did not intend to run away; and it wasonly when Raimundo had a boat from the shore that Ithought of such a thing. I have had hard luck; andI would rather do my duty on board than wander allabout the country alone.”
“Then it was Lingall that spoiled your fun?”
“Yes, sir; but I shall never want to run awayagain.”
“That’s what they all say. But, if you wished to getback, why didn’t you go to Barcelona, where the Tritoniais? That would have been the shortest way foryou.”
“I didn’t care about staying in the brig, with no onebut Mr. Marline and Mr. Rimmer on board,” answeredBill, who could think of no better excuse.
Bill thought he might get a chance to slip away atsome point on the road, or at least when the partyarrived at Lisbon. If there was a steamer in portbound to England, he might get on board of her.
“We will consider your case at another time,” saidthe principal, as the train stopped at a station.
The principal and the surgeon, after sending Bill tothe other end of the compartment, had a talk aboutRaimundo, who had evidently gone to Africa to get outof the jurisdiction of Spain. After examining Bradshaw,they found the fugitives could take a steamer toBona, in Algeria, and from there make their way toItaly or Egypt; and concluded they would do so.