Isles of the sea; or, Young America homeward bound : $b A story of travel and adventure — John Shaqi
Isles of the sea; or, Young America homeward bound : $b A story of travel and adventureOptic, Oliver
General
Isles of the sea; or, Young America homeward bound : $b A story of travel and adventure
Optic, Oliver
Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
The matter was settled, for the present at least, so far as the student
was concerned. But the vice-principal was not quite satisfied with the
situation. The letter to Mr. Lowington ought to have been delivered
before the vessel left Gibraltar. It might contain something more than
an application for the discharge of the first master. He was very
anxious to consult with the senior vice-principal; and, as soon as the
recitation he had in hand was finished, he went on deck to take a look
at the weather.
The quarter-watch had been changed, and O’Hara and Tom Speers were
in charge of the deck. They had no opportunity to converse together
now, for it was contrary to the rule for officers on duty to do
any unnecessary talking. But they noticed the nervous manner of
the vice-principal as he looked up to windward. The wind had been
increasing since the Tritonia sailed in the forenoon. Though it still
looked squally and threatening, as it had for the last three hours,
there seemed to be a brief lull in the force of the wind, though the
barometer was falling.
The Josephine was abreast of the Tritonia; for the two vessels were
very equally matched, though each had its peculiar advantage in
different points. The former could hug the wind a little closer, and
the latter could gain a trifle on the other going free. Each ship’s
company bragged of its own craft, because each had got a little ahead
of the other on its best course.
“Signal on the Josephine, sir,” reported the lookout on the weather
cat-head.
“Signal on the Josephine, Mr. O’Hara,” repeated the first master in the
waist.
“Call the signal-officer,” added the fourth lieutenant.
The box containing the signals was opened; glasses were in demand; and
the signal which the Josephine displayed was promptly examined.
“Do you make it out, Mr. Lingall?” asked O’Hara, rather impatiently,
for it was an unusual thing for one vessel of the squadron to
communicate with another under like circumstances.
“‘Have you any’”--replied Lingall, who was the signal-officer, and
who had carefully studied his duties since his unexpected promotion.
“Reply that the signal is understood, quartermaster.”
The proper flag was set, whereupon the Josephine began to display
single letters, indicating that the article for which she desired to
ask was not contained in the signal code. The process was slow, but it
was sure in the end.
“How far have you got?” asked O’Hara.
“C-h-l-o,” replied Lingall.
“By the powers, you have made a mistake, Mr. Lingall!” said the fourth
lieutenant, with a laugh.
“I think not, sir: I take down each letter as it comes,” replied
Lingall.
“You have misplaced the letters: it is c-h-o-l they mean; and they want
to ask if we have the c-h-o-l-i-c, colic.”
“I think not, sir; for I don’t believe that is the way they spell
‘colic’ on board of the Josephine,” added Lingall, with a smile,
and not quite sure that it was prudent to expose the blunder of his
superior.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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