Scott shuddered ; but he was beginning to become accus-
tomed to all sorts of people and ways.
" How did you escape ? " he asked.
" Why, the beast no sooner saw that I was up and awake,
and able to keep the ugly carrion-flies off for myself, than he
started away. It was an hour before he came back. I was
faint and hungry and thirsty and every thing else. I thought
if I could kill one of the vile birds it would be better than
nothing ; and I tried to load my rifle, but I was too weak. I
lay down on the rocks to go to sleep again, when a beastly
crow came and sat down on my foot, and gave a fiendish cry
to the rest that were lying round in ambush. I would not
have moved my foot to shake him off; but old Zigg came
tearing up the hill, and away he flew. I opened my eyes as
Zigg came up. He had a hare in his mouth, that he had just
killed. I ate a half of it raw, and he ate the rest. He was
colonel of my commissaries, division-surgeon of my hospital,
captain of my picket-guard, field-marshal and sergeant-at-arms,
father, mother, and best friend, for eight days, till I was able
to crawl on and find some help. He's old now, and beyond
the limit of most dogs' days. He'll die pretty soon."
Scott looked up, for the officer's voice trembled. He was
stroking old Zigg's head gently, and the dog was looking
72 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
into his master's face with a low whine. Scott saw that tears
were gHstening in the soldier's eyes, and wondered how it was
that a moment before he had thought the officer so rude and
"Has he ever been at sea before?" he asked.
" Not long at a time," replied the officer. " He doesn't like
the salt water, and I don't blame him. But he took a trip with
me a little while ago that very few dogs ever took, and he
seemed to enjoy it."
"What was that?" asked Scott.
" I was ordered to carry despatches to Paris during the
siege, and return with replies in ten days. I went along as a
blind beggar, and Zigg carried a string that was tied to my
wrist. He took the cue like an old actor ; and not a living
soul suspected that I'd not been blind and led by that dog all
my life. In three days I was in Paris. But how to get out
again was harder. I tried three times, and failed. At last it
came to where I had to go. There were only three days more.
There was a balloon in Paris, and they offered me that. I
didn't think much of flying, especially when the fellows outside
knew the joke, and only waited to see a balloon in the air, to
make a target of it. The only man who knew how to run the
engine was afraid to go. But I took lessons all the afternoon,
and at night I started. There was a full moon ; but clouds
were coming up, and I waited till they were almost over the
moon. Then I got in, and Zigg with me, and away we went.
Heavens ! how we shot up ! It took my breath away, but I let
her go. Zigg began to howl till he found that it was all right,
and then he enjoyed it. We shot into the black clouds and
out of them again in an instant ; and then all was bright above
us, and nothing but a fog-bank beneath. She was running
74 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
away with me. I caught the rope, and began to pull. But
suddenly I felt sick, and before I knew it I had fainted away.
When I came to myself, we were whirling along right in the
clouds. We must have come down a long way, I thought, and
wondered why, till I looked round, and there sat Zigg, with
the rope in his mouth, pulling for dear life. He must have
seen it drop from my hands when I fainted, and taken the
matter in mouth himself, because he could not take it in hand.
I had no idea where we were ; but she was dropping, and I let
her drop. We made bad work of landing ; but we were all
right when we got out, and we left the old man's balloon hang-
ing tangled up in a grove of trees." The officer turned to
the dog again, and, laughing, said, " Old boy, your teeth are all
gone now. You couldn't hold a string in those old jaws ; but
your will's as good as ever it was." And getting up, he walked
away, with Zigg following close at his heels.
ALGIERS AND ENGINEERING. 75
ALGIERS AND ENGINEERING.
JLGIERS is a horrible place ! " exclaimed Scott, as he
came on deck in the morning, and examined the
little African town that they were approaching.
"That depends upon how you see it, and where
you look," replied the captam. " Point your glass up the hill
there, port a little. There you are! What do you think of
that ? "
" Beautiful ! beautiful ! " exclaimed Scott. " What pretty
little houses there about the grove ! And what is that big
building? What makes them have those great white fences
all about every house ? Oh, I know ! It's to keep the robbers
" Right you are," replied the captain.
" And what splendid broad roads ! The street commis-
sioners of Boston should come over here, and find out how
it looks to have their work properly done. They have done
it just half way for so long, that they begin to think that
that is really the right way to do it. And those are splendid
wharves there too. Well, Algiers is not so bad, perhaps ; but
that's a miserable little town down under the hills, on the
" It's a little odd at first, like all heathen places ; but, when
you get used to them, you'll like them, I warrant you. Every
one does ; and, after you've been back in America for a while,
76 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
you'll begin to sigh for another sight of the horrible places,
as you call them now."
They made a very short stop at Algiers, to ship a small
amount of cargo ; but Mr. Raymond and Scott took advantage
of the two hours to go on shore. And Scott began to feel
that fascination of which the captain had spoken : every
thing was so wild, so strange, so intensely interesting, in
spite of the bad smells and dirty streets, that were so narrow
that sometimes they could almost touch both sides at once.
There were such strange people as he had read of in
" The Arabian Nights." There were Arabs and Moors and
Turks, in all sorts of strange dresses, â€” some with fancy
turbans on their heads, and fancy little jackets on their backs,
and bagging breeches. Then there were fellows with cloaks
all over them, even around their heads, bound there by a
smaller turban. Some were very light, and some were very
dark ; but there were none so black as the negroes of Boston.
"These are not Africans, are they?" Scott asked Mr.
Raymond in surprise,
"Indeed, they are," said Richard. "Why did you think
not ? "
"Why, the Africans are very black," replied Scott.
"The Africans that we see in America are black enouo-h,
surely ; but they come from a very little corner compara-
tively, â€” chiefly from the coast, far down to the South. The
people of Zululand, or Zanzibar, are black, with thick lips
and curling hair. But there are many Africans who are almost
as white as we are, and all shades between."
The booths, or native shops, of the bazaar, which itself is
only a street of these shops, are not large stores, such as one
finds in America ; and Scott stopped in wonder before the
IN THE BAZAAR
78 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
little things, hardly larger than his stateroom on the steamer,
filled up with all sorts of wares, beautiful cloths, jewelry, and
the pottery that is so precious in America. He recognized
some bits very much like ornaments in his own home.
They stopped for a moment before one of the largest
shops in the bazaar, where a very pretty young woman was
having some silver ornaments fitted to her arm. She had a
thin veil over her face ; but she was almost white, and through
it her pretty features could be very plainly seen.
" She is a Mussulman woman," said Richard. " It is the
custom for all of them to go veiled ; but she is so pretty, that
she hates to hide her face, so she makes the veil very thin.
The old fellow standing behind her there, smoking the cigar-
ette, is her husband. See that beautiful rug behind her,
hanging on the wall."
" I don't call it beautiful," said Scott.
" Never mind, your mother and sisters would," replied
Richard, laughing. " You could buy it for a song here, if
you took the right course with the white-bearded old fellow ;
but in Boston it would cost thirty or forty dollars, at the
At that moment some one slapped Mr. Raymond on the
shoulder, and a hearty voice exclaimed, â€”
" Speaking of Boston reminds me that I came from there
myself a long time ago. It seems like a lifetime ; and I'm
overjoyed to find any one else in the same box."
They found themselves greeted by a Boston artist, there
in the bewildering and dirty bazaar of Algiers, where Scott
had thought himself surrounded by nothing but heathendom.
The artist had been living there for several years, sending
his pictures back to America for sale. He was disappointed
ALGIERS AND ENGINEERING. 79
when he learned that they were to leave in an hour and a
half, but insisted on their coming with him to his house,
just in the outskirts of the town, and having breakfast with
It was a pretty little place, on the verge of a hill, with a
garden of brilliant flowers all about it, at one end of which
Scott was amazed to see a tangle of dandelions and butter-
" Do they grow here ? " he asked, while his heart seemed
beating in his throat, as his eyes rested on those little blossoms.
"No, indeed!" replied the artist, tenderly picking one for
each of his guests, and presenting them as though they had
been the choicest of moss-roses. " I brought them with me
from home. I had some daisies too, but I could not make
them live. I know of nothing in the world that carries the
heart back to dear old New England, when it is weary of
being away, like the dandelions and daisies and buttercups.
This is the most precious part of my garden. And it is a
little peculiar ; but my neighbors, the natives living about
here, think there is nothing so beautiful in the world, and
almost all of them have roots growing in their gardens.
They say, ' What a wonderful country yours must be, where
such beautiful and fragrant flowers as the dadelean grow wild ! '
and, now that I am away from it, I am tempted to agree
" Then, why don't you go back ? " asked Scott more abruptly
than he thought, he was so busy caressing the little yellow
The artist smiled. " I am making my fortune here," he
said ; " and I expect to go back when that is made perhaps.
But, after all, I love this place. There is something very
8p OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
fascinating in Oriental life. I think we are too far from it
in America. We are too rigid and straight there, and make
life too much of a burden. There is Russia, for instance : it
is much colder, and harder to keep comfortable there, than at
home; but they are perfect Orientals, â€” the wealthy I mean,
of course. I love America ; and, if I were not an American,
I believe there is nothing in the world that I should long for
so much as to be one. And yet, after each time that I have
gone home for a vacation, the first sight of these long-robed,
dark-skinned fellows, their dirty streets, their curious customs
and melodious languages, have thrilled me with a pleasure
that I cannot express. I hope that fortune may never place
me where I shall be unable, at times, to revisit the Orient."
The artist turned away from his bed of buttercups, and
conducted his guests to his little breakfast-room. After break-
fast he opened his studio at their request ; and, as Scott was
particularly pleased with a painting which the artist had made
of his grandfather, â€” who was one of the famous sculptors of
London nearly a century ago, â€” in the act of making a clay
model for a marble bust of the lord-mayor, that now stands
in the Council chamber of the Houses of Parliament in Lon-
don, he presented him, when he left, with a little medallion
of the painting on a piece of ivory, that, about the outside,
was beautifully carved, to form a frame.
" I shall keep it as long as I live," said Scott to Mr.
Raymond, as they were being rowed out to the steamer; " and
I shall press this dandelion, and keep that too. He was a
first-rate fellow, and I never thought half enough of our but-
tercups at Beverly before."
To occupy the time while on the voyage, Mr. Raymond
succeeded in interesting Scott in the engineering of the
IN MEMORY OF A PLEASANT HOUR.
82 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
steamer, among other things ; and here he had a valuable
assistant in the chief engineer, who was an enthusiast in his
department, as every man should be to succeed. Economical
consumption was the order of the day ; and economical con-
sumptionists had to give the palm, thus far at least, to this
" You see," he said to Mr. Raymond and Scott one day
as they came into his cabin, shortly after leaving Algiers, and
caught him figuring, â€” "you see, the coal costs so much, that
it is really one of the greatest items of the entire voyage.
Why, I am going to save as much in coal, over what this
same steamer consumed three years ago, as the salaries and
feed of the whole crew for the entire voyage, including the
captain and all."
"What makes the coal cost so much?" asked Scott.
" Transportation, my boy," replied the chief. " It has to
be shipped from England to Gib and Malta and Port Said
and Aden and Ceylon, and so on, to the end of navigation.
Every mile that it is carried costs so much more coal to
carry it ; and then it has to be stored and reshipped, and
there's the insurance, the loss, the interest, and every thing
" Why don't you carry coal enough to last ? " said Scott.
" Take mor'n the steamer could carry, to last her the
voyage. But look at here ! See what I have done this voy-
age. We've three thousand tons dead freight."
"What's dead freight?" asked Scott.
"It is the solid, paying freight down in the holds. We
have averaged over ten knots an hour."
" I call that very slow time, especially when one is in a,
hurry," interrupted Scott ; for he felt every delay and deten-
ALGIERS AND ENGINEERING.
tion more keenly than he might under almost any other
circumstances. " Our American steamers go it at fifteen
knots and over, and then the passengers complain."
"They are English steamers, after all, that take you so
rapidly across the Atlantic," replied the chief a little gruffly,
for economy was just then his hobby. " But even they could
not do that in this water, no matter how much coal they
"Why not?" demanded Scott, ready to fight for any thing
that was even so much American as a steamer leaving an
" There are several reasons. The density of the water is
one. It is harder making time in this water than in the
Atlantic. Then, the temperature is very much against us.
The steam is condensed, you know, by constantly pumping
water from the sea over the steam radiators. If you take a
bottle half full of hot water, let the steam rise till it has filled
the other half, and driven out the air, then cork it securely,
and pour cold water over the half that is filled with steam,
you will make the water boil ; and the colder the water is
that you pour over the outside of the bottle, the harder the
water inside will boil. It is on precisely the same principle
that we magnify the heat of steam produced by the fires.
When we are in water that is as warm as your blood, you
can see that we get less benefit." Then he turned to Mr.
Raymond, as though he were a little tired of talking to an
unappreclative listener, and continued, "What I am proud
of is, that we have made such time, with this burden, at an
expense of actually less than fifteen tons of coal a day.
Why, when ' The Great Eastern ' crossed the Atlantic in
1867, she only made fifteen knots an hour, and she actually
burned over three hundred tons of coal every day."
84 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
" Yes," added Mr. Raymond : " the steamer that we have
just crossed on consumed over a hundred tons a day, and
they thought they were doing very well."
"They can afford it," said the engineer. "In the first
place, it costs them comparatively little. Then, their celebrity
in opposition depends, in great part, on their speed."
"I wish there was more opposition here," interrupted
Scott, who did not intend to let the chief go too easily.
But he only smiled, and continued, â€”
" They carry large lists of passengers, and set expensive
tables ; and one meal even is worth saving, even though at
cost of a little more coal. It is just the other way with us."
Scott was on the point of saying, " I should think so : " but
he decided that he had already said too much ; and though
the table of the steamer, like that of all the English steamers
for India, was very poor, he laughed with himself over the
little joke, and let the chief go free.
" But I should think, that, if you can go ten knots so very
cheaply, you might at least add another knot or two, which
would save a deal of time at the end of the voyage."
"That is just it," replied the chief pleasantly. "It is just
that last straw that breaks the camel's back ; and that is where
I am making the greater part of my saving. If you are
walking down street, at home, on a warm day, and you walk
leisurely, you can go a great way without being very warm."
" I might in Boston, but I could not here," replied Scott,
wiping the perspiration from his face.
"Well, I am talking about Boston now, my boy. If you
hurry, you become heated and tired before you have gone
half as far."
" I know that that is so," replied Scott. He was taking
ALGIERS AND ENGINEERING. 85
Old Joe's advice with the greatest care : and, of all men on
board, he did not mean to "sir" the chief engineer; for he
could not but feel that in some way he was a little to blame
for the slow progress that they were making.
" Very well. It is just so with the engine."
" If you keep the engine greased well, it should not get
heated," said Scott, a little doubtful about the propriety of
the engineer's logic.
" Not exactly. But while it is very easy to drive the
steamer at a moderate rate through the water, when we go
faster the friction begins to tell, and the wheel, of course,
has to turn much faster to produce the same effect. And
every mile that we increase on the easy speed takes an in-
creasingly larger quantity of coal. Many of the engineers
who are trying to reach this economical plan do not think
of this," added the chief with a chuckle ; and Scott said, with
a shrug of his shoulders, â€”
" I hope we shall go back on a steamer where the chief
has not found it out."
OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
SIGHTS IN THE SUEZ CANAL.
T was night when the steamer reached Malta, in spite
of all calculations to the contrary. Mr. Raymond
went on shore to learn of the steamer from New
York, and was assured that the two passengers whom
he sought had transferred to the Indian steamer at that port.
He was sure of it in advance ; but now additional weight was
added to his theory, and all that was left was for them to reach
Bombay at the earliest moment possible.
All that Scott saw^ of Malta was the high walls of natural
rock rising up out of the water, all about the steamer, with
little houses built on the cliffs, and forts and fortifications on
all the prominent places overlooking the almost land-locked
bay. But he would much sooner have left without seeing even
that than have waited an hour longer than necessary.
With the first gray light they were again under way. All
sails were set ; and, in spite of economy of coal, they were able
to make the ofreat lio^ht of Port Said as the sun went down on
the evening of the fourth day. There they were to coal up ;
and a gloomy place it made of the pretty saloon of the steamer,
to close it up fore and aft, and shut all the ports of the state-
rooms, and draw the Venetian blinds and latches. But it had
to be done, for a dirtier place can hardly be found on earth
than one of the Indian steamers when they are coaling.
Very slowly they worked their way up the harbor, till they
SIGBTS IN THE SUEZ CANAL. 87
lay within a stone's throw of the cafes and dance-houses that
are so abundant in Port Said. Instantly the steamer was sur-
rounded with small boats of all sorts and sizes, with all kinds of
passengers. But they were an ugly-looking set in the night,
and Scott was not particularly enchanted with the terrible racket
that was kept up. He went into his stateroom, but it was very
warm and close. When the ship's papers were signed, and
the crowd of agents was allowed to come on board and make
their bargains for supplying the coal and provisions that were
needed, the steamer became a little more quiet, and Scott went
up on to the bridge to watch the operation of coaling.
Huge flat-boats â€” lighters, they called them â€” came along-
side. The coal is piled up in cubic blocks fifteen or twenty feet
each way, with little alleys between them. One after another,
the lighters are pushed up beside the steamer, one on each
side ; and a narrow plank is run on the steamer's deck from
each end of each of the lighters, and one from the middle if the
steamer has four shoots to the coal-bunks. Then a multitude
of vile Arabs, who are covered with the dirt of years at this
business, with coarse blankets on their heads, upon which they
carry baskets of coal, start on one never-ending line up the
two planks at the ends of the lighters, dumping the contents
of the baskets in the shoots, and meeting in the middle to
come down the plank there in solid file for fresh basketfuls.
The officers of the steamer usually weigh this coal in some
way,, to avoid deception. This time the chief engineer went
through the lighters ; and, picking out several of the blocks, he
measured them carefully, and weighed them on large scales
fixed over the shoots, as they were brought up. Then he
measured all the other blocks, and estimated from thosp he had
weighed. Then the work began in good earnest. The lines
g8 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
were formed. The Arabs began to sing a horrible nasal song,
and to climb the narrow plank, one close behind the other.
Port Said was a dirty little town, made up only of such
people as could earn a living or a fortune out of the steamers
that were continually stopping there ; and after an hour's stroll
the next morning, through the damp streets, vile smelling, and
teeming in the heat of the sun, that was something terrific,
the two travellers went back again to the steamer, perfectly
satisfied to be under way again.
The Suez Canal was a sight that Scott had looked forward
to ever since starting for India. He was disappointed, and
yet it was wonderful. It was only a narrow river of salt water,
not half as wide, at the most, as the steamer was long. There
were low banks on either side, of the whitest of white sand ;
and now and then there was a station, an official building, and
sometimes two or three hovels about it. The officials at these
stations managed the progress of the steamers by telegraph
with the other stations, to prevent any accidents ; for the
channel was not wide enough for two steamers to pass, and
the first steamer to pass a station had the right of way to the
next. Sometimes a steamer was unfortunate, and had to keep
tying up all day long, to let others pass, and was three or even
four days in getting through the canal ; but usually it was not
more than two, and in the long days steamers have been
through in a single day. But this is not often the case : for,
at the best, they are only allowed to go at the very slow, rate
of five knots an hour, except in the Bitter Lakes ; and they can
only move between sunrise and sunset, except with especial
permission, which is hard to obtain.
It was rather monotonous, but Scott did not mean to lose
any of it on that account. The pilot of the Canal Company
OUR BOYS IN INDIA.
Stood on the bridge, so that the captain was not so much con-
fined as he had been ; and Scott always found his company
interesting. Now and then, too, there was a sight that was
well worth seeing In a little oasis, or a little native village as
gray-white as the sand which was all about It, or a caravan, or
a pilgrim winding his way along the banks.
"Whatever possessed those natives to build a village
there ? " Scott asked the captain, pointing to a little town they
were passing. " There is not a green thing anywhere about it."
" There is nothing green just now." replied the captain ;
" and at the best there is not much to boast of, thouofh In the
winter and spring there is a little grass about the houses.