Thomas Speers is Promoted. Page [18].

ISLES OF THE SEA;
OR,
YOUNG AMERICA HOMEWARD BOUND.

A Story of Travel and Adventure.

BY
WILLIAM T. ADAMS
(Oliver Optic),
AUTHOR OF “OUTWARD BOUND,” “SHAMROCK AND THISTLE,” “RED CROSS,”
“DIKES AND DITCHES,” “PALACE AND COTTAGE,” “DOWN THE
RHINE,” “UP THE BALTIC,” “NORTHERN LANDS,”
“CROSS AND CRESCENT,” “SUNNY SHORES,”
“VINE AND OLIVE,” ETC.

BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

Copyright, 1877, by
WILLIAM T. ADAMS

Copyright, 1905, by
ALICE ADAMS RUSSELL
All Rights Reserved

ISLES OF THE SEA

To My Friend,
P. WOODBURY DODGE, Esq.,
OF AMHERST, N.H.,
BENEATH WHOSE HOSPITABLE ROOF IT WAS WRITTEN,
This Volume
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

“Isles of the Sea” is the sixth and last volume of the second series of “Young America Abroad,” and contains the history of the academy squadron during its voyage, “homeward bound,” across the Atlantic. The title of the book, “Isles of the Sea,” indicates the character of the foreign travel in which the students of the institution were engaged; and in the pursuit of knowledge they visit the Madeira Islands, the Canaries, the Azores, the Bermudas, and one vessel of the fleet extends its cruise to the Cape Verd Islands. As in its predecessors, the professor of geography and history has something to say about each of the islands visited, and the surgeon and sanitary officer continues to enlighten the young gentlemen who seek his companionship in their rambles on shore. The field of geography and history is not so extensive as in the preceding volumes of the series; and for this reason the story occupies a larger place in the book.

Of the story, Mr. Tom Speers is the central figure, or at least one of the most prominent characters. Possibly he may be deemed a rather eccentric character for one under age; but, as the author has so often expressed himself before, it does not so much matter what else a young man may be, if he only has high aims, and a resolute purpose to carry out his ideal of what is noble, good, and true. Tom is a high-toned young man, as are all the other characters with whom the young reader is at all likely to sympathize, and in whose fortunes he is most certain to be interested.

As to the innate probability of a few of the leading incidents, they are suggested by actual occurrences in maritime history, which may be recalled by those who have kept themselves familiar with the subject. In regard to the long search of the Ville d’Angers for the academy squadron, which extended nearly across the Atlantic, the recorded experience of those who have traversed the ocean on similar ventures shows how difficult it is, away from the telegraph and the ship-news, for one vessel to find another.

The first volume of the first series of “Young America Abroad” was published in 1866, by the publishers whose imprint is on the present and last of the series. It is therefore eleven years that the author has been engaged in this pleasing work. These books have been received with a degree of favor which the writer is proud and happy to acknowledge, and for which he returns his sincere thanks. He is especially grateful that his life has been spared to complete the work begun; and every year has increased his interest in the host of young friends to whom these books have introduced him in all parts of the country. He regrets, that, in this particular field of travel and adventure, his task has reached its conclusion. He has crossed the Atlantic four times, and travelled in every country of Europe, in preparing himself for the work; and the pleasant memories of the “lonely ocean” and the far-distant lands he has visited will always be retained and cherished, in their association with the multitude of young people in whose delightful service he voyaged and travelled.

Towerhouse, Boston, Nov. 3, 1877.

CONTENTS.

ISLES OF THE SEA.

ISLES OF THE SEA;
OR,
YOUNG AMERICA HOMEWARD BOUND.

CHAPTER I.
THE TELEGRAPHIC DESPATCH.

“ALL hands, pipe to muster!” shouted the boatswain of the Tritonia.

At the same moment the shrill whistle and the sharp cry sounded through the American Prince and the Josephine. The squadron was at anchor in Gibraltar Bay; and since seven bells in the first watch, the signal, “Assign rank,” had been displayed on the American Prince, the flag-ship of the fleet.

It was the first day of April. The merit marks of the students had been added since the last recitations, and the offices were to be given out at eight bells. The squadron had visited all the ports of the Spanish Peninsula, and several trips to the interior had been made. The fleet was to sail to Seville to witness the scenes of Holy Week; and this excursion was to finish the cruise, not only in the waters of Spain and Portugal, but in those of Europe. The vessels would then be homeward bound, but by the way of the “Isles of the Sea.”

There was no little excitement in all the vessels of the squadron. Though the students could keep their own reckoning tolerably well, so far as the literary pursuits were concerned, they were wholly in the dark in relation to the marks for seamanship, navigation, and conduct. Some had strong hopes and expectations, based upon their own earnest efforts; and these were seldom greatly disappointed, though their rank was sometimes not so high as they anticipated. But, as a rule, the whole matter was a great mystery, which it was not possible to find out.

Sometimes there would be very little change in the rank of the officers for several months; and then came a general turn-over of every thing. The rise from the steerage to the cabin was almost uniformly slow and regular, though sometimes a student jumped over the heads of the half-dozen who had stood next above him. This sudden elevation of an officer or seaman had a tendency to produce bad feeling among his rivals in the race for honors, for the boys continued to be human in spite of the discipline of the service.

Possibly the interest on the present occasion was intensified by the fact that the squadron was so soon to sail for home; and doubtless many of the students were thinking of the uniform in which they should be presented to their friends on their return to the American shores. On board of the Tritonia it was known among the closer observers of events, that several of the students had been putting forth extraordinary exertions; and this circumstance fully accounted for the unusual excitement of the day. Among them was Bark Lingall, who had attempted to run away, but had voluntarily returned. He appeared to be thoroughly reformed, and, from one of the most indifferent and vicious boys in the vessel, had become a model of propriety in all things, as well as a very diligent and faithful scholar.

There was a certain class of students in the steerage of the Tritonia, as there always is in any large company of boys, who affected to despise one who had turned away from his evil habits and associations, and reformed his life and character. Lingall had his trials with this class of students; but he was resolute in his purpose to continue in the good way. Under the influence of Raymond, who had inspired him with the desire to do his whole duty, he kept his temper under his persecutions; and in no instance was he provoked to subject himself to discipline by the jeers and taunts of the disaffected.

Another student in the Tritonia, who had not distinguished himself by any misconduct, though he had been an easy-going fellow, suddenly began to exert himself without any apparent stimulus for such action. He was a high-minded boy, but rather peculiar in his ways of thinking and doing. His name was Thomas Speers. He was twenty years old, though he did not show his years, and one might easily have mistaken him for sixteen.

For the reason that they were doing their best in seamanship and the studies, Bark Lingall and Tom Speers excited a great deal of remark, not to say feeling, among the students. Bark had one of the highest numbers in the vessel, which indicated that his rank was among the lowest. He had never done any work he could avoid doing since the first two or three months of his service in the vessel. He had been a conspirator against the discipline and even the safety of the schooner, and was considered a bad boy by the vice-principal in charge and the professors.

Tom Speers had no particular record. He was considered a good fellow by the students in general; and, though he was noted for his independence, he had never wilfully broken the rules of the vessel. He was a first-class seaman; and his ability as a student was discovered to be of the highest order as soon as he chose to exert himself.

While the boatswain of the Tritonia was still piping his call to muster through the vessel, a shore-boat approached the gangway. A man in the stern hailed the vessel; and Marline, the adult boatswain, went down on the accommodation steps to see what he wanted, for visitors were not admitted at this time.

“Is there a man by the name of Thomas Speers on board of this craft?” asked the man in the boat.

“We have a young man of that name on board,” replied Marline.

“Can I see him for a moment?”

“For a moment you can; but he will be wanted very soon.”

The boatswain returned to the deck, and, calling Speers, sent him to the gangway. As the student had no friends in Gibraltar, he wondered who could wish to see him. He hastened to the steps, and went down to the platform at the foot of them. Marline remained at the rail, to see that nothing improper passed between Speers and the man; but he was called away before the student had communicated with the boat.

“Telegraph despatch from San Roque,” said the messenger, handing the document to Speers.

“It can’t be for me,” protested the student, surprised that such a message should come to him. “I don’t know any one in San Roque.”

“It is directed to Thomas Speers, and there is the name of this vessel on it,” persisted the messenger, pointing to the address. “But it is not from San Roque the message comes: that is the nearest telegraph station.”

“Where did it come from?” asked Speers, turning the message over and over in his hand.

“I don’t know: you can tell by opening it.”

“I don’t want to open it, if it is not for me.”

“If your name is Thomas Speers, it is for you. I have done my errand, and I have nothing more to say about it,” added the man, as he shoved his boat off from the platform.

“All hands on deck!” shouted an officer at the gangway.

Speers put the message into his pocket. He seemed to have no curiosity in regard to its contents. He was more interested in the distribution of the offices on board of the Tritonia; but he did not believe the message was for him. He hastened back to the deck, and took his station in the waist.

He hoped his place would be on the quarter-deck for the new term. He had made a desperate struggle with all his studies, and he was not conscious that he had failed in any thing. Mr. Pelham, the vice-principal, took his position at the heel of the mainmast, with the list of officers and seamen in his hand. Most of the students looked very anxious, though a few of the “marines” affected to make fun of the occasion, and pretended that they did not care what positions fell to their lot.

The vice-principal made the usual introductory speech, pointing the moral the occasion suggested. The record for the last month indicated some very important changes; and he hoped they would cause no ill feeling either in the cabin or the steerage. The merit marks strictly represented the conduct and work of the students; and the result of the addition of the figures had caused as much surprise among the professors as it would among the young gentlemen.

Mr. Pelham then announced the name of Wainwright as captain. This officer had held the position for many months; and, as he was very popular on board, the announcement was received with hearty applause. Greenwood was first lieutenant again; and his name was well received by the ship’s company. Scott, who had been fourth lieutenant during the preceding month, came in as second; and, as the joker had always been a favorite, his promotion produced a very decided sensation.

“I congratulate you, Mr. Scott,” said the vice-principal, with a smile.

“Thank you, sir. For the good of the Tritonia, I am glad this thing has happened,” replied the joker.

“Modesty is a cardinal virtue,” added Mr. Pelham.

“I know it, sir; and that is the reason I am so heavily loaded with it,” returned Scott, making a face which caused a tremendous laugh on the quarter-deck.

If there was anybody that did not laugh, it was Alexander, who had formerly been first lieutenant; and his name was not yet called. But it came in next as third lieutenant; while O’Hara, the “Oyrish Oytalian,” was again the fourth lieutenant.

“No great change in that,” said Richards, the first master, who had been struggling for a lieutenant’s place for months.

“No; but that shows the changes are yet to be mentioned,” replied Blair, the fourth master, to whom the remark had been addressed. “It looks as though there was a chance for some of us to take a berth in the steerage. Perhaps you are the one to go down, Richards.”

“What makes you think so, Blair?” asked the first speaker anxiously.

“I don’t think so: I have no opinion at all about it. If there are to be great changes, some of us will have to go down,” added Blair.

So it proved; but not just as the fourth master had indicated. The vice-principal paused a long time before he read the next name; and the hearts of many beat violently as the moment came that might dash down all their hopes for the present.

“First master,” said the vice-principal at last, “Thomas Speers.”

The announcement was received in silence and in blank amazement. The students who had observed that Speers was making an effort thought it possible he might be coxswain of the captain’s gig, captain of the after-guard, or something of that sort; but they had not the slightest expectation that he would get into the cabin, to say nothing of his jumping over the heads of four masters who had been in the cabin for months. The experience of the past demonstrated that a fellow who once got into the cabin very seldom allowed himself to be shoved out of it. If he had the ability to get there, he had the ability to stay there. Besides, the constant presence of the professors had a tendency to stimulate him to do his best.

“Speers, I congratulate you on the great promotion you have won,” said Mr. Pelham, breaking in upon the silence into which the ship’s company had been surprised by the mention of the name of Speers in connection, with so high a position.

“I thank you, sir,” replied Tom Speers, bowing and blushing.

Then came the most tumultuous applause from the seamen in the waist. One of their own number had gone up; and, though they had no particular sympathy with Speers, his elevation indicated that one of the present officers would be reduced to the steerage. There were enough among them to rejoice at the fall of a superior; for it was quite impossible to repress entirely the spirit of envy and jealousy excited by the elevation of the few above the many.

This subject had early attracted the attention of Mr. Lowington, the principal of the academy squadron; and he had done all he could to moderate and expel the feeling among the students. But they were all human beings, subject to the infirmities of the flesh; and they could not be wholly different from the more mature actors on the stage of life. They were fully instructed and warned in regard to the effect of cherishing this vicious spirit; but that was all that could be done. The boys were to meet and encounter the same circumstances in the great world as on board of the vessels of the academy fleet; and they received all the preparation for the ordeal it was possible to give them.

“That proves that one of us will have to go down,” said Blair, while the seamen in the waist were applauding the promotion of Speers.

“I don’t believe in this thing,” added Richards, with no little excitement in his tones and manner. “Who ever heard of such a thing as a fellow in the steerage leaping over the heads of all the masters?”

“It is done; and it’s no use to talk about it,” continued Blair. “Speers’s marks give him that place, or he would not have it.”

“There is something wrong about it.”

“What can be wrong?”

“It looks as though the books of the professors had been doctored. Didn’t the vice-principal say it was as great a surprise to the faculty as to fellows?”

“That only shows that they have had their eyes open; and, if there was any thing wrong about the books, they would have discovered it.”

“It would have been easy enough for Speers to alter half a dozen figures on the book,” Richards insisted.

“I don’t believe Speers is a fellow of that sort,” Blair objected. “If he had done such a thing, the professors could see that the figures had been changed.”

“I don’t understand it; and I can’t explain it in any other way,” added Richards, shaking his head.

“Second master,” the vice-principal proceeded, “Henry Raymond. He is absent, but the principal instructs me to hold his position the same as last month.”

Raymond’s absence was explained, as it was in all the vessels of the fleet; and it was satisfactory to all except Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs, of the “marines,” who had been engaged in an attempt to run away. The vice-principal glanced at his list again, and the students waited with intense interest for the name of the next officer.

“Third master,” said he; and there was another long pause. Blair and Richards were holding their breath in their anxiety to hear the next name, for there were only two chances more for the cabin.

“Third master,” repeated the vice-principal, “Barclay Lingall.”

If the name of Tom Speers had produced a sensation among the officers and crew, that of Bark Lingall made a greater one. Three months before, he had run away from the vessel with a fellow so bad that the latter was expelled; and on his return, though he came back of his own accord, having been reformed by the influence of Raymond while both were absent, his lost lessons could not be made up; and he was given the highest number in the vessel, which placed him below all the others. From that low position he had suddenly risen to be the third master of the Tritonia. The case seemed to be so singular, and so contrary to the past experience of the students, that the vice-principal deemed it necessary to explain it. He took the occasion to illustrate that almost any student who was thoroughly in earnest in his studies could obtain any position his ambition coveted. When he saw that Lingall was doing so well, he anticipated a high position for him, though not quite so high as he had attained.

“I am disgusted,” said Richards, when one more chance had slipped away from him. “I feel sure that the books have been doctored. Two fellows from the steerage have got into the cabin.”

“And we are about at the end of the rope. Either you or I must go down now, and perhaps both of us,” replied Blair, shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s so; but I don’t believe we are to be sent down by any sort of fair play,” growled Richards.

“There is no help for it. I don’t think I did as well last month as I should have done if I had supposed there was any danger of being shoved out of the cabin,” continued Blair frankly.

“I have no doubt I could have done better; but I believe now that I have done well enough to keep my place.”

“What are you going to do about it? get up a mutiny?”

“I feel like doing something about it.”

“Wait a minute before you do it,” laughed Blair. “You may be all right yet.”

“I can’t be any thing better than fourth master, and below Speers and Lingall.”

“Fourth master,” continued the vice-principal, when the excitement of the last announcement had in a measure subsided; and then he paused again, not to prolong the agony of the students, but to make sure that no mistake was made.

“We shall know all about it in another minute,” said Blair; “and you will learn whether or not you need go on with your mutiny.”

“I haven’t said any thing about a mutiny: you said that, Blair.”

“Mutinies don’t pay in this squadron: besides, we shall be homeward bound in a few days,” laughed Blair.

“Fourth master, Richards,” read the vice-principal from his list.

“There you are, Richards!” exclaimed Blair.

“And you are counted out,” added the new fourth master.

“I am; but I shall not cry about it. You are an officer, and I am a seaman now; and, if I conclude to get up a mutiny at your suggestion, I shall not say any thing to you about it.”

Blair shrugged his shoulders, and, making a merit of necessity, he stepped down from the quarter-deck into the waist. A few minutes later his name was read as one of the highest of the petty officers. There was not much consolation in this position, as he was turned out of the cabin.

The rest of the numbers were given out in the order of merit. As usual, there was considerable grumbling, while not a few were elated over the rank they had won. Before noon the officers put on their uniform, though two of them were absent.

Tom Speers in his frock-coat and cap was a good-looking officer. He was well received by the other occupants of the cabin,—possibly with the exception of Richards, who could not wholly forgive him for getting above him. Tom had quite forgotten the telegraphic despatch he had received, till he put on his uniform, and changed the contents of his pockets into those of the new dress.

He was not much interested in the document: his big promotion monopolized all his thoughts. He had no time to look at it; for, as soon as the rank was assigned in the squadron, the signal for sailing appeared on the American Prince. When the fleet was under way, the second part of the port-watch to which Tom Speers belonged was off duty, the first part being in charge of the vessel.

O’Hara, the fourth lieutenant, was his associate watch-officer. The Irish Italian had treated him very handsomely from the moment the rank of the new-comer into the cabin was announced. They were to spend days and nights together in charge of the deck, and it was pleasant to be on good terms with each other. They had a long talk together as soon as the Tritonia was clear of the Bay of Gibraltar.

While they were thus engaged, Speers took from his pocket the telegraph despatch, which got into his hand by accident rather than by design. He had been too much interested in the conversation with O’Hara to think of it before. He took it from his pocket that he might not forget it again, and not with the intention of opening it in the presence of his companion; but it attracted the attention of the fourth lieutenant.

“What have you there, Speers?” asked O’Hara. “A letter from home? We have had no mail in the ship for a fortnight.”

“No: it is not a letter,” replied Tom Speers very indifferently.

“Not a letter? isn’t it in an envelope?” demanded O’Hara, more interested in the matter than the owner of the document.

“It is a telegraph despatch, which was brought to me just as all hands were piped to muster this morning.”

“I hope none of your friends are sick or dead,” added the lieutenant, with a show of sympathy.

“I have no near friends to die or be sick.”

“Who sends you the despatch, then?”

“I don’t know: I haven’t opened it yet.”

“You haven’t? What is the telegraph for but to hurry up things? and you haven’t opened the envelope yet!” exclaimed the impulsive young Irishman.

“I will open it now,” said Tom, as he broke the seal.

“Faix, you are mighty cool about it,” laughed O’Hara. “Where is it from?”

“From London. I will read it to you, O’Hara, if you will keep it to yourself.”

“Oh, no! I don’t ask to hear what’s in it.”

“But I want you to hear it.”

“Then I will keep your secret.”

“‘Uncle dead; letters sent: come to London quick.

Rodwood.’”

This was the despatch.

CHAPTER II.
THE LETTER FROM LONDON.

“I  THOUGHT you said you had no friends to die or be sick,” said O’Hara, when Tom Speers had read the neglected despatch.

“I said I had no near friends,” explained Tom.

“Don’t you call your uncle a near friend, especially if you have no others?”

“I should say that would depend upon circumstances. I never lived with my uncle, and I never saw a great deal of him. He was a very rich man: I have heard it said that he was worth five or six millions.”

“Murder! what an uncle!” exclaimed O’Hara. “Five or six millions! that’s a power of money. How many children had he?”

“None at all; not a chick nor a child,” replied Tom, amused at the manner of his companion, who always indulged in the brogue when he was excited.

“Howly St. Patrick! five or six millions of money, and not a child in the world? What has he done with it all?”

“I don’t know,” replied Tom coolly.

“How many brothers and sisters had he?” asked O’Hara, opening his mouth with the interest he felt in the case.

“None at all.”

“How can he be your uncle, then? That’s what bothers me.”

“My father was his only brother, and they had no sisters. My father died when I was ten years old; and my mother died two years ago, just before I joined the academy ship.”

“Begorra, then you are the heir of the five or six millions!” shouted O’Hara, as excited as though all the money were coming to him. “Faix, I’m glad to be in the same watch with you! I shall make it the business of my loife to cultivate your frindship.”

“I don’t think it will pay for you to do so, for I never saw my uncle a dozen times in my life; and I am confident he has given his money to some other person,” answered Tom, laughing at the enthusiasm of his companion. “He never did a thing for me, and, what is worse, he never did a thing for my mother when she needed help; and so it isn’t likely that he has left any of his money for me.”

“Whose name is it signed to the despatch?”

“Rodwood; Judge Rodwood. He always was a great crony and adviser of my uncle; and now I suppose he is the executor or administrator.”

“Why should he telegraph to you if your uncle didn’t lave you the money?” demanded O’Hara warmly.

“I don’t know: I may get the letters he sent before we sail for home.”

“But he says you are to go to London quick; and I shall not have you in my watch, after all.”

“Yes, you will; for I shall not go to London,” added Tom decidedly.

“Howly Mother! not go, when there is five or six millions of money waiting for you to put your hand to it?” gasped O’Hara.

“I don’t know that there is even a single dollar waiting for me; and if I knew there were a million I wouldn’t go,” answered Tom, laughing at his friend’s zeal.

“You wouldn’t! what are you made of? You are cowlder than a frozen brickbat! What’s the rayson you won’t go?” inquired the lieutenant.

“I’ll tell you why. My father died worth only about five thousand dollars. My mother kept this money for me; and she took care of me with only an income of three hundred and fifty dollars a year. She asked my uncle for a little help, and he took no notice of her letter. This was a year before she died, and she wanted to send me to college. Then she went to see him, thinking he might not have got the letter. He put her off for a time; but he finally told her he would do nothing for her. I never went to see him after that, though he often sent for me. He did not like my mother, and he never invited her to his house.

“After my mother died, I made up my mind that I wanted to go to sea, and work my way up to be captain of a ship. My mother’s brother was my guardian, and he consented to use my little fortune in paying my expenses in this institution. Now I am here; and I have just got waked up as I never was before. At one bound, I have become first master of the Tritonia. I like the berth; and I am going to do a great deal better than I have yet. Now, do you think I will leave this high place in the vessel at the call of one I don’t care a straw about? I never even saw Judge Rodwood, though I have heard enough about him.”

“He may be your guardian under the will.”

“I don’t care if he is: I have only one guardian that I know any thing about, and that’s my uncle on my mother’s side. I like this situation too well to leave it,” continued Tom, independent as a basket of chips.

“But the money?” suggested O’Hara.

“I don’t know that my rich uncle has left me any money; and, in fact, I don’t care if he has. I have not quite forgiven him for refusing to help my mother.”

“You might take his money, whether you forgive him or not.”

“Now he is dead, I am willing to forgive him; but I don’t ask any favors of him or his estate.”

“Faix, you are moighty indepindint.”

“I love the Tritonia with all my heart just now; and I wouldn’t leave her for filthy lucre any more than I would cast off the girl that loved me for it. Judge Rodwood is a great boatman, and has a steam-yacht, though I believe my uncle owned it; so that I might have a chance to go to sea in good shape if I went to him. But I like my place on board this vessel better; and I mean to stay here as long as I can. I have told you all about my affairs, O’Hara; and now you will not blow on me, will you?”

“Faix, I won’t, thin! Not a word shall pass my lips,” protested the warm-hearted Irishman.

“If the vice-principal should see this message, or hear of it, he would tell Mr. Lowington; and he might make me go to London, whether I am willing or not,” added Tom rather anxiously.

“I’m sure he would make you go to London for your own good. But not a word will I spake till I have your permission to do so.”

“Thank you, O’Hara: I am sure we shall be good friends.”

“You may bet your life on that! You are a broth of a boy, with five or six millions, more or less, in your trousers-pocket; and you may depind upon it, I’ll stick to you like a brother,” said O’Hara, with a wild laugh.

“Don’t consider me an heir till we have further information. But we were very good friends before I read this message to you.”

“Faix, we were!”

The conversation was continued till the two officers were called to attend to their duties, when the first part of the watch was relieved. The following week was spent at Seville, and then the squadron returned to Gibraltar. The vessels had hardly anchored before Mr. Lowington’s agent came off with a mail for the students and others on board. There was a letter for Tom Speers.

He put it into his pocket without stopping to read it, though not till he had seen that the post-mark was London. This was the letter alluded to in the telegraphic despatch; and doubtless it contained full particulars of the death of his uncle, and an explanation of the reason why he was summoned to London. Tom was not inclined to read it, for he did not wish to be told of any thing that would call him away from the Tritonia. His ambition was thoroughly aroused, and he was resolved to win the highest position in the vessel.

All who had received letters from home were busy reading them, and the discipline of the squadron was sufficiently relaxed to permit them to do so without interruption; but Tom Speers put his letter into his pocket. O’Hara had news from home, and he was busy digesting it, so that he could not speak to him about his affairs. He felt the need of counsel, while he dreaded to receive it lest it should oblige him to abandon the Tritonia and the brilliant hopes of the future.

Perhaps his uncle had left him a fortune, for there were a dozen fortunes in the vast pile of wealth the dead man had left behind him. It was even probable, in Tom’s estimation, that he had done so, for he had been named after his uncle; and, if he did not care for his nephew, he might desire to have his name live after he could no longer bear it except upon the costly monument that marked his last resting-place. The young man felt no deep affection for his uncle, and had no great respect for his memory. A few thousands given to his mother while she was pinching herself to bring up her boy would have been better than as many hundred thousands to him now that she was gone.

Tom felt that he was alone in the world, and he had only to look out for himself. While he cherished no spite or ill-will towards his departed uncle, he did not quite like the idea of being made a rich man by his bounty. He was very proud and independent; and to accept a fortune from his uncle, seemed almost like treachery to his mother. It was the sentimentalism of the young man, which a few years of contact with the world would obliterate.

The letter from Judge Rodwood was in his pocket, and it seemed to burn there. He was curious to know its contents, but he did not wish to be influenced by any thing it might contain. He did not like to be tempted by wealth to give up his present ambitious prospects. He thought every minute, as he looked at his shipmates reading their letters from home, that he would open the one from the judge; but he did not. He sat upon the quarter-deck, gazing listlessly at all the objects in sight, from the lofty rock bristling with guns and batteries, to the scenes which were transpiring on board of the schooner; but he could not decide to do any thing to settle the present problem of existence.

He had made up his mind to be a sailor. He had longed for a “life on the ocean wave” since he was a small boy, and read the tales of the sea; but his devotion to his mother did not permit him to mention the subject after he had observed her shudder when he alluded to it for the first and last time. But he had dreamed, all the time, of roaming the seas, and visiting the distant lands of the earth. He had put himself in the way to realize these visions as soon as he had in a measure recovered from the deep grief occasioned by the death of his mother. Now, when he had almost reached the pinnacle of his hopes, came this command of his uncle’s executor—as he supposed the judge was—to abandon his delightful mission.

But Judge Rodwood was not his guardian, so far as he knew; and he was not willing to recognize his right to order him to London. Perry Bowman, his mother’s brother, was all the guardian he could recognize. This gentleman had possession of his little fortune, or what was left of it; for his expenses in the academy squadron had already absorbed a considerable portion of the principal, besides the income.

While he was thinking of the subject, unable to come to a decision in regard to the letter, which he was confident was a repetition of the order for him to hasten to London, he saw a boat leave the American Prince, and pull first to the Josephine, and then to the Tritonia. The officer in charge of it delivered a note to each vice-principal, and then returned to the steamer, which was still taking in coal at the station.

All the preparation for the voyage among “The Isles of the Sea” had been completed on board of the two consorts. All the water-tanks and spare casks had been filled with water, and an abundance of fresh and salt provisions had been taken on board. The compasses had been adjusted, and the chronometers had been regulated; and every thing was in readiness for sailing at a moment’s notice, though the steamer would not have received all her coal till after dark.

The boat which brought the note had hardly returned to the flag-ship before the signal for sailing appeared at the mainmast of the Tritonia. Word was passed along among the officers, that the two schooners would sail at ten, leaving the American Prince to follow in the evening.

“We are off in ten minutes,” said O’Hara, disturbing the meditations of Tom Speers, as soon as the news had been circulated among the students.

“I am not sorry that we are not to wait all day in port for the steamer,” replied Tom. “You have had letters from home, O’Hara. I hope your friends are all well.”

“First class,” replied the fourth lieutenant. “And did you get the letters from London of which you were advised in the despatch?”

“I got one letter, but it is a very thick one, and very likely the envelope contains two or three of them.”

“Well, what is it all about? How much money has your uncle left you?” asked O’Hara glibly, but with deep interest manifested in his bright eyes.

“I don’t know: I haven’t opened the letter yet,” replied Tom, with a smile.

“Haven’t opened it!” exclaimed the lieutenant, holding up both hands in amazement. “Upon my sowl, you are a lunatic, Speers! you haven’t a head upon your shoulders at all, at all!”

“Now, I think I have,” added Tom, laughing heartily at the earnestness of his companion. “Did you open your letters?”

“To be sure I did.”

“Why did you open them?”

“Why did I open them? Howly Mother, what a question! Why did I open them? To see what was in them. What else would I open them for?”

“For nothing else. You wanted to know what was in them; and the right thing for you to do was to open them. I don’t want to know what is in mine; and for that reason I don’t open them. Isn’t my way of doing it just as sensible as yours?” demanded Tom, satisfied with his logic.

“You don’t want to know what is in them! By the powers, that’s the rayson why you are a lunatic! I don’t know but I ought to report you to the vice-principal before we sail, that you may have proper medical tratement before we get out of the raych of the docther.”

“Don’t do that, if you please, O’Hara,” said Tom earnestly. “I told you the reason why I did not wish to be sent to London.”

“Never you fear. Sure, it’s joking I was. I wouldn’t mutther the first taste of a sound to bother you; but, upon my sowl, you are the quayrest boy I ever met in the whole course of my life. You don’t care a straw how much money your rich uncle has left you!”

“I don’t think I do. If he had given my poor mother a hundredth part of his big fortune when she was alive, I would have blessed his memory, and heeded his slightest wish, alive or dead.”

“Then the executor of your uncle must go down on his knees, and beg you to take the fortune he has left you!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “If you don’t want it yourself, take the money, and hand it over to the poor, myself among the number.”

“I suppose I shall take whatever my uncle has left me; and I shall try to make a good use of it. But when I came into the academy squadron, I had made up my mind that I would be the architect of my own fortunes. I came here to learn the arts of seamanship and navigation as the means to earn my own living. I don’t feel like turning away from my plan yet. I love the sea.”

“But with all the money your uncle will leave you, can’t you sail all over the world in your own yacht; and that yacht a steamer like the American Prince, or a full-rigged ship like the Young America? What are you talking about?”

“But I want to finish my course in the Tritonia; and, if you won’t laugh at me, I mean to be the captain of her before she reaches the shores of the United States,” said Tom, with enthusiasm.

“Oh, murther! is that what’s the matter wid you?” ejaculated O’Hara, with a laugh. “I had that same fayver; and, when I first got into the Tritonia, I said to myself that I would be the captain of her in six months; and now it’s more than a year I’m in her, and I’m only fourth lieutenant.”

“If I fail, I fail; but I shall do all I can to win the position.”

“But don’t be a lunatic any longer! Open the letter, and see what’s the matter. Faix I’m dying with curiosity to know what’s in it,” continued the lieutenant.

“One reason why I did not open it before was that I wanted to talk with you about it; for I believe you are the best friend I have in the ship,” said Tom earnestly; for he had a great admiration for his fellow watch-officer.

“Thank you for that. Upon my sowl, I think you are a good fellow, if you are a lunatic on the letter. Take the advice of your best friend on board, and see what’s in that envelope immejitly.”

“I will, since you advise it,” replied Tom, taking the letter from his pocket.

While O’Hara was glancing at the superscription, the boatswain’s whistle sounded through the ship.

“All hands, up anchor!” shouted that officer, after he had piped the call.

Tom Speers grasped the letter, and returned it to his pocket. At the next instant he was at his station, for with his lofty ambition he could not afford to be the last in his place. The first lieutenant was in position on the quarter-deck, with the speaking-trumpet in his hand, though it was an emblem of authority, rather than a useful implement in a quiet time.

“Man the capstan!” said this high official, in moderate tones, considering the magnitude of the position he filled.

The order was repeated by the other officers till it came to the forecastle. Every seaman knew precisely what he was to do in the operation of weighing the anchor; and in a moment the bars were shipped and swiftered. All hands were then in position, and waiting for the next order.

“Heave around! Heave in the cable to a short stay!” added the first lieutenant; and the order went forward as before.

The first master had been directed to inform him when the cable had the proper scope, which had been indicated to him.

“Avast heaving!” said Tom Speers. “Cable at a short stay, sir,” he added to the first lieutenant.

“Pawl the capstan! Unship the bars!” continued the executive officer.

The cable was well stoppered, or secured where it was. About three-fourths of the whole of the cable which had been run out was hauled in by the operations described. The wind was moderate in the harbor, and only enough was now out to hold the vessel while the rest of the preparations were made for getting under way. The part out was “up and down,” and a few turns of the capstan would have lifted the anchor clear of the bottom.

The length of cable used in anchoring, or in holding the vessel at a short stay, requires the exercise of discretion and judgment; but the young officers were required to determine for themselves all these questions. The harder it blows, or the swifter the tide, the greater the scope of cable needed. It is true, the adult boatswain was always on hand to see that the work was properly done on the forecastle; and the vice-principal, who was the only adult seaman in the cabin, closely observed the manœuvres made; but they never interfered, unless the safety of the vessel required them to do so. If the young officers were at fault, they were criticised afterwards, when the crew were not present.

“Stations for loosing sail!” said the first lieutenant, when the cable was at a short stay.

The fore-topsail was shaken out, the foresail and mainsail were set; and the order was given to man the jib and flying-jib halyards, and to ship the capstan bars again.

“Anchor a-weigh, sir!” reported the first master on the forecastle.

Tom Speers saw that the anchor was clear of the bottom when the hands at the capstan had heaved a few turns.

“Let go the downhauls, and hoist away!” added the executive officer; and at the order up went the jib and flying-jib.

The wind was about north, and the sails were trimmed as they filled. As soon as the Tritonia was fairly under way, her fore-topmast-staysail, fore-top-gallant-sail, and main-gaff-topsail were set. At the same time the order was given to cat and fish the anchor, or hoist it up to the cat-head, and then put it in its usual position when the vessel was at sea.

As the beautiful craft swung around, and the breeze filled her sails, ringing cheers came from the shore and from the men-of-war in the harbor; all of which were returned with vigor by the young tars. With the wind on the beam, the two schooners stood out of the bay, and in a short time were passing through the Strait of Gibraltar. As they went out into the broad ocean, the wind freshened till they were making ten knots an hour. It was study time for the port-watch, and Tom had no chance yet to read his letter.

CHAPTER III.
AN APPROACHING SQUALL.

THE port-watch were on duty from twelve till four in the afternoon; but the second part had their off time for the first two hours. The Tritonia was jumping at a lively pace in the white-capped sea, headed west, a quarter south. O’Hara had been impatiently waiting for this time to come to dive into the mysteries of that London letter. He was more anxious to know the contents of the envelope than Tom was.

As soon as the starboard watch had piped to dinner, the fourth lieutenant led the way to a place on the lee side of the quarter-deck where they could be alone. Tom produced the important letter, and broke the seal. As he had surmised, it contained two other letters, one of them addressed to Mr. Lowington, the principal of the squadron, and the other in the handwriting of his maternal uncle.

“Sure, you can’t deliver that one to Mr. Lowington now,” said O’Hara, looking back to the distant land which would soon be out of sight.

“I am not anxious to deliver it; for I can guess the substance of what it contains,” replied Tom.

“Well, what’s in the letter from London?” asked the lieutenant impatiently.

Tom Speers unfolded the sheet. It was a brief business-like document, hardly covering a page of the paper, though written in a very open hand. It was dated on board steam-yacht Marian, at Southampton, though it had been mailed in London.

Thomas Speers, the millionnaire uncle of the first master, had died six weeks before. He had given about half of his immense fortune to charitable institutions, and the other half to his nephew. Judge Rodwood was appointed guardian and trustee, so far as this property was concerned. The judge had come to England in his steam-yacht in order that he might follow the academy squadron, if, as he feared, it had left Europe on its return voyage to America.

“Give me your hand, Speers!” said O’Hara with enthusiasm. “I was dead sure your uncle had made a millionnaire of you!”

“I was rather afraid he had,” replied Tom moodily, as he glanced at the letter again. “He gives me no particulars of the death of my uncle, or in relation to the fortune.”

“Upon my sowl, you are the quarist mortal that iver came into the world, or will iver go out of it after getting quare in it. You are afraid your uncle has made a millionnaire of you! Where is your gratitude?”

“I don’t carry it in my trousers-pocket. The whole of it is, O’Hara, I am too much interested in the voyage of the Tritonia to care much about the contents of this letter. I have just become an officer, and I don’t want to give up my position.”

“I understand that; but what’s the use of running away from the fortune that is waiting for you?”

“I don’t intend to run away from it. I think it will keep till the Tritonia returns to the United States.”

“Another of those letters is addressed to you. Will you leave that till to-morrow before you open it?”

“Not at all. This one is from my uncle, Perry Bowman; and I am always glad to hear from him,” replied Tom, as he opened the letter. “‘Wonderful news for you, my dear boy,’” continued the first master, reading from the letter: “‘your uncle is dead, and has left you at least three millions of dollars: so much for bearing his name, for he wanted to preserve it after he was gone. You are to have the income of your money till you are twenty-five, and then a million every five years till you get the whole of it into your own hands. I have resigned my guardianship of you in favor of Judge Rodwood. I offered to pay over to him about four thousand dollars in my hands; but he declined to take it till you had formally named him as your guardian, as you have the right to do, so far as personal care is concerned. He advised me to pay over the money to you at once; and I send you a letter of credit for the amount. You may want it more before you get home than afterwards.’”

“Howly St. Patrick!” exclaimed O’Hara, as Tom opened the valuable document alluded to. “You are measly with money.”

“That paper will be convenient, wherever I happen to be,” said Tom, with a smile, as he put the letter of credit into his pocket-book. “I could have made a better use of it six months ago than I can now. I was poor as a church-mouse then, when most of the fellows were made of money.”

“You can buy them all out now,” added O’Hara. “Now, what are you going to do about this business, my lad?”

“I can’t do any thing now: it is too late for me to go to London,” replied Tom with a smile.

“I see you are satisfied with the matter as it is.”

“I am.”

“But Judge Rodwood is over here in his steam-yacht for the purpose of following the squadron, if he don’t find it in European waters,” added the lieutenant.

“I am willing he should follow it.”

“When he begins to look into the matter, anybody in Gibraltar can tell him the fleet has gone to Madeira; and all he has to do is to follow you.”

“I don’t object.”

“Of course you don’t; but when he finds you, he will take you out of the vessel.”

“I don’t believe he will, if I am not ready to leave her. Don’t my uncle Perry say I have the right to name my own guardian? if the judge don’t do the right thing, I will not consent to name him as my guardian. But when I tell him I prefer to stay in the Tritonia, if he is a reasonable man, as I think he is, he will not object.”

“But you are not doing the right thing yourself, my boy,” protested O’Hara. “What kind of a way was it to put a telegraphic despatch in your pocket, and not open it? And what kind of a way was it to lave your letter unopened till it was too late to do what you were told by your guardian? Don’t your uncle Perry tell you to come home as soon as ever you can?”

“He has resigned as my guardian; and the other one has not been properly appointed,” said Tom, laughing at his own ingenuity in devising an excuse.

“How do you know what’s in the letter to Mr. Lowington?” demanded the lieutenant.

“I have no doubt it contains an order for my discharge from the academy squadron,” replied Tom. “I would deliver it, if the principal were only here; for I have no right to keep his letters back, whatever I do with my own.”

“I think you had better give the letter to the vice-principal.”

“I am willing to do that.”

“I am afraid the powers that be will blame you for not opening the letter before we sailed,” continued O’Hara.

“I am willing to bear the blame for what I have done,” replied Tom; and, seeing the vice-principal coming up from the cabin, he delivered the letter to him as he reached the deck.

“Where did you get this?” asked Mr. Pelham, surprised to see a sealed letter to the principal so soon after leaving port.

“It was in a letter to me, which I did not open till just now,” replied Tom.

“And why didn’t you open it before the ship sailed?” demanded Mr. Pelham, quite as much astonished as the fourth lieutenant had been.

“I didn’t care to open it, sir,” answered Tom, wondering how he could get out of the scrape without telling the whole truth.

“That is very strange.”

“I had some idea of what the letter contained,” added Tom, with a smile.

“And that was the reason you didn’t open it?”

“I was not interested in it.”

“There seems to be something under all this, Speers,” continued the vice-principal, looking into the honest face of the young man. “What is it?”

“A telegraph despatch, sir,” replied Tom, handing the document to Mr. Pelham.

Tom found, after due consideration, that there was no way out of the scrape; and he explained the whole matter in full.

“I don’t care to have my shipmates know about this, sir,” said Tom, when he had told the whole story.

“It is your private affair, and you have a right to keep it to yourself if you choose,” replied Mr. Pelham; “and I shall respect your wishes.”

“I have told O’Hara about it, but no one else.”

“But it cannot be long concealed that we have a millionnaire on board,” added the vice-principal, laughing. “Judge Rodwood will follow the squadron to Madeira.”

“When I see him I hope he will permit me to remain in the Tritonia; and till that time I don’t care to have any thing said.”

“Very well. But I think you ought to have opened your letter before the vessel sailed. It was hardly treating Judge Rodwood with proper respect, to take no notice of his telegraphic despatch.”

“Perhaps it was not, sir; but I did not know what to do. I suppose the whole of it is, that I didn’t want to leave the vessel; and I was afraid if I answered the despatch, or opened the letters, I might have to go,” pleaded Tom honestly. “I have no doubt that letter to Mr. Lowington contains a request for my discharge.”

“Probably it does; but I don’t see that any thing can be done about it now. The vessel is almost out of sight of land,” said Mr. Pelham, smiling; and he looked as though he rather sympathized with the first master in the trials and tribulations cast upon him by his coming fortune. “I will consult with Mr. Fluxion, who is my senior in rank, as soon as possible; though the sea is rather too heavy just now to communicate with the Josephine, except in a case of emergency.”

“I am in no hurry to have any thing done,” replied Tom, laughing and shrugging his shoulders.

“The last log gave us ten knots, and the wind is increasing. At this rate we may get to Madeira before the American Prince overhauls us,” added the vice-principal.

“I am willing,” chuckled Tom.

Mr. Pelham descended to the steerage to resume his duties as instructor in navigation. Tom was very well satisfied with the result of his interview, and joined O’Hara on the lee side of the vessel. His position was safe, for the present at least; and he hoped Judge Rodwood would be reasonable enough to allow him to complete his course in the academy squadron.

“Well, my boy, did you get a black eye from the vice?” asked O’Hara, who had been watching the conference with the most intense interest.

“Not a bit of it: Mr. Pelham knows how it is himself, and he behaved very handsomely,” replied Tom cheerfully.

“I suppose the news will be all over the ship now before the dog-watches are out,” added O’Hara.

“Three of us have the secret now; and I think we are strong enough to keep it.”

“Then it can’t be kept.”

“If you keep a stopper on your jaw-tackle, O’Hara, it will be safe till Judge Rodwood arrives at Madeira, though I am not without a hope that we shall be gone when he comes.”

“That is your little game, is it?”

“There is no game about it. It is only a hope I have; and I shall do nothing wrong about it.”

“Of course you won’t do any thing wrong: you are not the fellow for that,” added O’Hara, with a little taste of Irish blarney.

“I am not so high-toned as Raymond; but, if I intend to be captain of this vessel, of course I can’t afford to be on the wrong side of any question; for it is a matter of marks as well as of morality,” replied Tom, with a laugh.

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.

“Faix, you have me there! I see you have learned your spelling-lesson well, Mr. Lingall.”

“‘R,’” continued the signal-officer, adding another letter to the unfinished word.

“Chlor,” said O’Hara. “That’s not a nautical word, to be sure.”

“No: it looks more like a medical term,” added Mr. Pelham, who had joined the group gathered around the signal-officer.

“‘O,’” continued Lingall, as another letter was indicated.

“Chloro: that must be chloroform. The professors on board are going to perform a surgical operation.”

“I think not: there is no doctor on board of the Josephine,” added Mr. Pelham.

“It must be some doctor’s stuff,” persisted the fourth lieutenant.

“If you are patient for a few moments longer, you will not be under the necessity of guessing what is wanted. I am satisfied the word is chlorodyne,” said the vice-principal.

“Chlorodyne!” exclaimed O’Hara. “Is that a rope, or something to eat?”

“Neither: it is a medicine with which all the vessels of the squadron are provided; and I have had occasion to administer it several times.”

“If it’s physic I’ve nothing to say; but if there is a rope in the ship that I don’t know, I feel guilty,” said O’Hara, with a mock sigh of relief.

“‘D,’” continued Lingall, taking down the next letter of the word.

“That’s enough,” interposed Mr. Pelham. “The article wanted is chlorodyne; reply ‘understood,’—yes.”

This signal was transmitted, for the Tritonia had an abundant supply of the medicine named; and Mr. Pelham wondered how the Josephine happened to be out of the article, since it was Dr. Winstock’s favorite remedy in all cases of colic or severe pain in the bowels.

“Heave to, and wait for a boat,” was the next message interpreted from the signals.

The signal was duly reported to the captain, who was studying his lessons in the cabin. He directed the officer of the deck to obey the order, which was regarded as coming from the senior vice-principal. Simultaneously the two vessels came up into the wind, backing their fore-topsails.

Mr. Pelham went down into the cabin as soon as the Tritonia was brought to; but he returned in a few moments, wearing his pea-jacket.

“This will afford me an opportunity to consult with the senior vice-principal in regard to your matter, Speers,” said Mr. Pelham to the first master in the waist.

“I hope we shall not be ordered back,” replied Tom, not a little annoyed at the prospect.

“I think there is no danger of that, Speers; but I feel obliged to make the case known to Mr. Fluxion: he will at least share the responsibility with me,” replied Mr. Pelham.

Tom felt easier after this assurance. The vessel pitched very heavily in the sea when she was hove to; and, if the junior vice-principal had any doubt about the propriety of leaving the Tritonia at such a time, he did not express it to any one on board. Certainly the indications of the weather, as gathered from the barometer and the appearance of the heavens, were any thing but favorable.

The second cutter of the Josephine was hoisted out with its crew on board. The fact that the adult boatswain was sent in the boat, in addition to the usual crew, seemed to indicate that Mr. Fluxion would not send the boat unless he considered the occasion an emergency. It was probable that one of the students in the vessel was very sick, and that Mr. Fluxion believed the weather was better now than it was likely to be for some hours to come.

The cutter from the Josephine cast off from the schooner. The young oarsmen gave way with a will, and the boat began to rise and to plunge into the heavy sea. The two vessels were not more than a couple of cable-lengths apart; but the passage from one to the other occupied a considerable time.

The officer of the cutter skilfully brought his boat under the lee of the Tritonia. It was a perilous position, and it was in great danger of being dashed to pieces against the counter of the vessel. A rope was thrown to the bowman, who promptly secured it, and made it fast by catching a turn over the fore-thwart.

The first master of the Josephine, who was in charge of the cutter, was a lithe little fellow; and, taking to the rope as a cat runs up a tree, he climbed to the deck of the Tritonia in the twinkling of an eye.

“That was well done, Mr. Pepper,” said Mr. Pelham when the little officer stood before him, drenched to the skin by the seas that had broken over him. “You want chlorodyne.”

“Yes, sir: we had a large bottle of it, but the steward dropped it on the floor of the steerage, and spilled the whole of it,” replied Mr. Pepper. “Boyle is very sick with colic, or something of that sort; and Mr. Fluxion has no proper medicine for him.”

“I shall go on board of the Josephine with you; and I have the bottle in my pocket,” added the junior vice-principal, as he slid down the rope into the Josephine’s cutter.

Mr. Pepper followed him, and the boat pulled back. As it was evident that she must return to the Tritonia, she was brought up under the counter of the Josephine. Mr. Pelham was the first to board the vessel.

“I am surprised that you should leave your charge, Pelham,” said the senior vice-principal anxiously, and in a low tone, as his junior presented himself on the deck.

It took Mr. Pelham five minutes to tell the story of Tom Speers as briefly as it could be told.

“Never mind Speers or his letters,” said Mr. Fluxion impatiently. “Return to the Tritonia at once!”

It was too late. A fearful squall was driving down upon the two vessels.

CHAPTER IV.
A VESSEL IN DISTRESS.

MR. PELHAM saw that he had made a mistake in leaving the Tritonia at such a time, though he would not have thought of doing so if the senior vice-principal had not sent the boat. But it was a case of severe sickness which had induced his superior to send out a boat in such a sea. The squall, which might prove to be a hurricane, was already roaring in the distance. In a moment more it would break upon the vessels.

“Get your boat in quick!” said Mr. Fluxion to the officer of the deck, in sharp tones, though not loud enough to be heard by the seamen. “Call all hands!”

At the same moment the senior vice-principal seized the speaking-trumpet in the hands of the officer of the deck, and, leaping into the main rigging, shouted,—

“Fill away! fill away!”

Whether, in the roar of the tempest, the officer in charge of the Tritonia heard him or not, the vessel immediately filled away. O’Hara was too good a sailor to be caught napping at such a time. He had sent for the captain as soon as he saw the squall coming; and, as this was a case of emergency in which the officer of the deck was authorized to act without waiting for orders, he had braced up the fore-yards on his own responsibility.

Capt. Wainwright came on deck before the schooner was fairly under way again. All hands were called, the lessons of the professors in the steerage were promptly abandoned, and almost in the twinkling of an eye the canvas was reduced to a storm staysail.

The Josephine had a bigger problem to solve: the officer of the deck sent for Capt. Vroome, but, without waiting for his coming, ordered the cutter to be hauled under the lee of the schooner; and it was hoisted up at the davits, carefully secured, and swung inboard.

As soon as the boat was clear of the water, the forebraces were manned, and the yards trimmed, the vessel filling away as this was done. The orders came very rapidly from the first lieutenant for a moment; but they were executed as fast as they were given, and the vessel was soon under the same short canvas as the Tritonia.

The squall came down upon the little squadron, and the vessels reeled under it. But this was one of the emergencies which the students, especially the officers, of the academy squadron, had been faithfully trained to meet. The ships’ companies had executed the manœuvre just completed, hundreds of times, in still water and at sea in a fresh breeze.

Though the fury of the squall lasted but a short time, it was succeeded by a severe gale, which had been sufficiently prognosticated by the barometer and the aspect of the heavens. When the first fierceness of the tempest had somewhat abated, the Josephine set her foresail, close-reefed, and hoisted her jib. The wind still came from the north-west, and she resumed her course for the Madeira Islands.

Capt. Wainwright followed the example of his senior; and the two vessels were again standing on their course, which was still west, a quarter south. All went well till dark, though the vessels labored heavily in the ugly sea. The captain of the Tritonia was somewhat anxious about his craft, as he had no vice-principal on board upon whom he could lean if the situation became more trying. He walked the deck, keeping his gaze fixed to windward most of the time.

Since the squall a full watch had been kept on duty. Scott was in charge of the deck when the darkness, deep and dense, settled down upon the scene. Even with only the jib and the double-reefed foresail, the Tritonia rolled till the water frequently came in over her high bulwarks, while the seas broke in heavy sheets over the top-gallant forecastle.

“This will be a nasty night, Scott,” said the captain, pausing in his walk on the weather side of the vessel.

“I never saw any thing worse,” replied the second lieutenant. “But I think we shall be able to keep most of the water on the outside of her.”

“She is wetter on deck than I ever saw her before,” added Capt. Wainwright.

“Or behind either.”

“I am afraid we shall lose sight of the Josephine before morning.”

“If we do, I suppose, like any other old wine-bibbers, we can find our way to Madeira.”

“But I am very sorry that Mr. Pelham was unable to return,” continued the captain.

“I think he will feel worse about it than any one else,” answered Scott.

“It is for his sake that I am sorry.”

“I don’t object to a cruise on our own account as long as we keep within the strict line of duty.”

“I am not alarmed, though in such a night as this I cannot help feeling a little anxious about the vessel,” said Capt. Wainwright. “I had no idea that we should have such a storm as this proves to be. I don’t see the lights of the Josephine.”

“I saw her starboard light within five minutes,” added Scott, as he peered through the gloom of the night in the direction the consort had last been seen. “She can’t be far from us.”

“I see it now,” added the captain. “The tops of the waves shut it out from our view at times.”

“Now we have lost it again.”

The Tritonia rolled and pitched fearfully, and of course the Josephine was doing the same. The night was a long and dismal one. Twice it became necessary to call all hands to lay the vessel to under the storm staysail. Even the jib and reefed foresail were too much for her.

Shortly after the captain and second lieutenant were observing the lights of the Josephine, they disappeared, and were not seen again. A very heavy rain began to pour down, and it was thought that the thickness of the weather alone prevented them from seeing her. Capt. Wainwright declared that it was the worst night he had seen since he had been in the Tritonia; and Mr. Marline confirmed his view of the matter.

The morning broke dull and heavy, with a fierce rain-storm still battering against the rigging. The captain had been on deck about all night, and had turned in at eight bells in the morning when the watch was changed, leaving the first lieutenant in charge of the deck.

“Heard a gun off the port bow,” reported the lookout on the top-gallant forecastle.

“Are you sure it was a gun?” asked Richards, the fourth master, to whom the report was made.

“It was a good way off; but I’m pretty sure it was a gun,” replied the seaman. “There it is again! I am sure of it now.”

Richards heard the gun himself this time, though it was only a dull report, evidently coming from a great distance. He reported it to the officer of the deck.

“I haven’t heard it,” said Greenwood.

“You can hardly make out the sound above the roar and swash of the sea. I heard it myself just now,” added Richards.

They listened attentively for some minutes, but without hearing the gun again. The first lieutenant concluded that the officer and seaman had been mistaken, and he sent the fourth master back to his station. All hands forward listened again for some time; but the gun was not heard.

“I was sure I heard it,” said Richards to the second master.

“There are so many strange sounds in a storm like this, that you can’t be sure of any thing,” replied Raymond. “I hope you didn’t hear a gun, for it can only be a signal of distress in such a storm.”

But Richards was piqued at the idea of having made a false report, and he kept his ears wide open for the next hour. Once he thought he heard the sound again, but he did not mention it, though the lookout glanced at him to indicate that he had heard something.

It was too thick and dark to see any thing, even if there had been a sinking ship within a cable’s length of the Tritonia. Nearly half an hour later he heard the sound again. It was a sort of dull and indistinct “thud,” which might have been made by a wave under the counter of the schooner; but it came from a distance, and from the same direction as before.

“Gun on the weather-bow, sir,” repeated the lookout; and this time he spoke so confidently that the fourth master deemed it his duty to report again to the officer of the deck.

“I imagined I heard it myself this time,” replied Greenwood, looking very anxious. “But it might have been a gun, and it might not.”

“I think it was a gun; and I have heard it several times,” answered Richards.

“I don’t like to call the captain, after he has been on deck all night, for nothing,” continued the first lieutenant, looking very much troubled, as he wiped the spray from his face.

“If it is a gun, it can only mean that some vessel is in distress,” added Richards. “I think we had better err on the side of humanity.”

“No doubt of it; but we are not running away from the direction you report the sound as coming from.”

“If the vessel is disabled, she is drifting this way; and we can hardly work to windward in this weather.”

“Remain on the quarter-deck, if you please, Mr. Richards, and see if you can make out the gun again,” continued Greenwood.

“I hardly expect to hear it again for half an hour; for it is that time since I heard it last,” said Richards, as he climbed into the weather main rigging.

Greenwood continued to walk the deck along the life-line, which had been extended fore and aft for the safety of the officers and seamen on duty. As the fourth master had suggested, the sound was not heard again till nearly another half-hour had elapsed. Then it was heard, and so distinctly that Richards thought there could be no mistake about it this time.

“I heard it myself,” said the officer of the deck when the report was made to him. “I will thank you to call the captain, and inform him that signal-guns have been heard on the weather-bow.”

Richards came down from his perch in the weather rigging, and went below. Wainwright awoke from a heavy slumber at the knock on his door; but he was himself at once, and inquired carefully into the matter of the report till he had satisfied himself that guns had really been heard. Hastily putting on his pea-jacket, he went on deck.

All hands gazed earnestly at him as he appeared, and watched his movements with intense interest. The vice-principal was not on board, and Capt. Wainwright was the supreme authority. Mr. Primback, the senior professor, who was nominally the head of the institution in the absence of the vice-principal, knew no more about a ship, or about nautical matters, than a man that had never seen the ocean. The adult boatswain and carpenter were seamen, and were competent advisers; but they were without authority in the absence of Mr. Pelham.

While Capt. Wainwright was inquiring into the situation, the signal-gun was repeated; and this time it could be plainly heard by all on deck. It was more nearly on the beam than before. The Tritonia was on her course. The wind, which had been rather variable during the night, was now from the north, veering to the west. The vessel in distress was therefore almost dead to windward.

“Brace her sharp up, Mr. Greenwood,” said the captain, as soon as he had fully taken in the situation.

The first lieutenant gave the necessary orders in detail to carry out the command of the captain. The Tritonia promptly answered her helm, and, coming up into the wind, rose upon the tremendous sea, and then darted down into the trough, while the crest of the wave broke upon her top-gallant forecastle.

“We can’t make much beating to windward under a double-reefed foresail, in such a sea as this,” said Greenwood.

“I am afraid not,” replied the captain, as he returned to the cabin to inform the senior professor of the action he had taken.

“How do you know it is a ship in distress?” asked Mr. Primback, greatly disturbed by the announcement.

“Ships at sea don’t fire guns for nothing in such a sea as this,” answered Wainwright.

“It may be an engagement between a French and a German vessel; for France and Germany are unhappily at war with each other at this time,” suggested the professor.

“I think not, sir; for vessels in action would be likely to fire oftener than once in half an hour,” replied the captain.

“Very true: I think they would be likely to discharge their guns more frequently than this,” added Mr. Primback, looking wise. “You feel confident that the guns are from a ship in distress?”

“I feel reasonably sure of it, sir.”

“Then I suppose it is quite proper to go to her assistance,” said the professor, with an inquiring look at the young commander.

“Entirely proper, Mr. Primback.”

“I am sorry that some other vessel does not have this duty imposed upon it. Nevertheless, as the sea is very stormy, and the violence of the motion does not permit the conducting of the regular recitations, I dare say that no great loss of time will result from this deviation from the true course of the vessel.”

“I should say not, sir,” added the captain.

“Have you consulted with Mr. Marline, in the unfortunate absence at this time of Mr. Pelham?”

“I have not done so, sir. Mr. Marline turned in, and”—

“Did what? Do me the favor to speak the English language when you address me,” interposed the professor, who could not tolerate even the mildest of nautical terms.

“He went to bed, sir.”

“Ah, he retired?”

“Yes, sir: he turned in when”—

“Retired, if you please.”

“Yes, sir: he retired from the deck when I did; and I have not seen him since the signal-guns were reported to me.”

“Mr. Marline is a prudent mariner; and I request that you confer with him before any decided steps are taken.”

“But I have taken the decided step already; for I have hauled her up”—

“How can that be when the vessel is far out of sight of the land? You speak in enigmas,” interrupted Mr. Primback.

“We braced her up”—

“In English, sir,” said the professor rather sternly.

“I don’t know that I can describe nautical manœuvres in any other than nautical language,” said Wainwright. “We were going with the wind free before, sir”—

“The wind is always free, Wainwright: no one can control it.”

“Well, sir, I caused the schooner to be turned so that she is headed as near as she can go in the direction from which the wind comes.”

“That is quite intelligible. I thank you.”

“The vessel is now headed as near as can be towards the ship in distress. If you wish me to speak to Mr. Marline I will do so, sir; but I think it is better to let him sleep, after being on deck as he was all night.”

“He must be somewhat fatigued; and you may wait till he gets up from his bed.”

Wainwright withdrew from the cabin of the professor, and went on deck again. It was still too thick to make out the vessel in distress; and, when he had directed the first lieutenant to call him if occasion should require, he went to his state-room to obtain the rest he needed.

The guns were repeated every half-hour as before; and it was evident that the two vessels were coming nearer together. The rain had ceased, but a thick fog had settled down upon the ocean, and concealed the two craft from each other. But the captain could not sleep, weary as he was, in his anxiety about the wreck to windward of the Tritonia. He went on deck. The gun sounded as though the vessel in distress was not more than a mile distant.

There was no gun on board of the schooner, or he would have used it to inform the sufferers that assistance was at hand.

The Tritonia had tacked several times in the heavy sea; and, after the captain came on deck the second time, he had ordered the addition of a close-reefed mainsail to the vessel, for the wind seemed to have abated a trifle.

“I see her!” shouted the lookout forward.

“Where away?” demanded the fourth master, springing upon the rail of the vessel, ready to get into the fore-rigging.

“Sharp on the weather-bow.”

“I see her,” added Richards, as he made out the dim outline of the craft in the fog, which had lifted a little as if to reveal the presence of the sufferer.

“She is a steamer!” shouted Richards, as he jumped down upon the deck, and hurried aft as rapidly as the uneasy motion of the Tritonia would permit.

He reported to the first lieutenant the position of the steamer; and immediately all the officers leaped upon the rail, and looked intently to windward to obtain a view of her.

“What do you make of her, Mr. Greenwood?” asked Capt. Wainwright, who was of course too dignified to leave the quarter-deck.

“She is a steamer, barkentine rig. She is heeled over to port, with her stern settled deep in the water,” replied the first lieutenant.

“Down from the rail!” shouted the captain.

The order was repeated by the officer of the deck, and the momentary panic caused by the appearance of the wreck gave place to the usual order on board of the schooner. The captain sent the fourth master to call Marline; and this old salt was greatly surprised when he learned what had been done while he slept.

“How do we happen to be headed to the nor’ard, captain?” asked he, after he had glanced at the compass.

“We have been working to windward for the last four hours in search of this vessel, for we heard her signal-guns at two bells in the morning watch,” replied the captain, with a smile at the blank look of astonishment on the face of the boatswain. “Mr. Primback desired me to confer with you as soon as you came on deck.”

“Why was I not called before?”

“I thought it best not to disturb you after you had been all night on deck.”

“And you were on deck all night also.”

“I was; but I was called at two bells. I propose to lie to under the lee of the steamer, and send a boat on board of her as soon as practicable,” continued the captain. “What do you think of that idea?”

“I don’t think much of it,” replied the old sailor bluntly. “Do you think of sending a boat on board of the wreck at once?”

“Do you think it is safe to get out a boat?”

“I don’t think it is safe; and for that reason I shouldn’t lay her to.”

“What would you do?” asked Capt. Wainwright, rather nettled by the disapproval of the boatswain.

“I should run as near the wreck as possible, hail them, and say we will stand by them; then stand off and on till the weather moderates a little. A boat might live now; but the steamer floats, and don’t seem to be in any immediate danger of going down,” said Mr. Marline, when he had examined the condition of the wreck as well as he could in the fog.

“I like that plan,” replied the captain; “but I thought we might be able to reach the wreck in a boat.”

“If there was any need of it, we might,” added the boatswain, now getting a better view of the steamer. “She has a hole in her starboard bow; she has been run into by another vessel. I think the water poured into that hole in the beginning, flowed aft, and settled her down by the stern so as to lift the opening out of the water. That is what saved her. It was a miracle.”

The Tritonia tacked again, and then stood under the stern of the wreck. Only one man, whose gray locks were streaming in the fresh wind, could be seen on board of her.

“We will stand by you!” shouted Greenwood through the trumpet, as the Tritonia passed within a few fathoms of the steamer.

“Two ladies on board!” yelled the man in response to the hail.

“We will save them!” replied Greenwood.

The Tritonia passed out of hailing distance.

CHAPTER V.
BOARDING THE WRECK.

“THERE seems to be but one man on board the wreck,” said Wainwright, when the Tritonia had passed out of hailing distance.

“And he says there are two women on board,” added Marline. “It seems to me that I have heard that man’s voice before.”

“He speaks plain English, at any rate,” continued the captain. “Have you any idea what has become of the Josephine, Mr. Marline?”

“It was easy enough to lose her in such a night as the last. She may have carried sail while we were laying to, or we may have carried sail while she was doing so. She may have been within a few miles of us when we changed our course to the nor’ard.”

“But, if she had been anywhere near us, she would have heard the guns on this steamer,” suggested Wainwright.

“I think we shall have a change of weather soon, and we shall find out where she is.”

“The barometer is rising; and I am confident, if the Josephine’s people heard those guns, she will follow them up, and we shall see her in the course of the forenoon.”

“No doubt of it,” replied Marline. “The fog is lifting now.”

“The steamer seems to be in no danger of sinking,” added Wainwright, as he brought his glass to bear upon her. “Her stern is well down in the water, but her bow is clear up in the air.”

“She won’t go down unless the weather gets worse. It is moderating very rapidly.”

“What can we do with the steamer after we get on board of her?” asked the captain, who had been considering this question since the wreck was first discovered.

“I don’t know that we can do any thing but save the passengers,” replied Marline.

“But the vessel seems to be in good condition; and it may be possible to take her into port.”

“It may be; but I think we have not force enough to handle her, if the crew have deserted her.”

“If we save her, won’t she belong to us?” inquired Wainwright, who had been a seaman on the Josephine when she picked up a Dutch vessel in the North Sea, in a sinking condition.

“No; but the judges of the Marine Court, or whatever they call it over here, decide what part of the value of the vessel shall be given to those that save her.”

“It is a case of salvage, then. I didn’t know but the vessel, if she had been wholly abandoned, might go to those who picked her up.”

“I am no sea-lawyer, and I don’t know much about it; but my notion is, that if the owners claim her, they take her by paying the salvage decreed by the court. I am sorry Mr. Pelham is not here to settle all the questions that may come up concerning this steamer.”

“I think we shall be able to settle them somehow or other,” replied Wainwright confidently. “It would be a big thing for the Tritonia to send that vessel into port.”

“So it would; but it will be a bigger thing to save the passengers on board of her. Though we see but one man on board of her, there may be a dozen or twenty,” added Marline.

“What are they about, if there are any others in her?”

“That’s more than I know; but men lose their heads in times of trouble. The crew may have broken into the rum-barrels, and got drunk. A crew is very likely to do such a thing after the discipline of the vessel is lost.”

“Do you suppose that is the case?”

“I don’t suppose any thing about it: I have known just such things to happen,” answered Marline, who evidently did not care to continue the conversation, for he did not wish to commit himself to any thing.

The sea was still too heavy, when the port-watch came on duty at eight o’clock, to allow any recitation to be conducted in the steerage. Professor Primback, with his supreme contempt for all things nautical, was unable to keep on his legs, and was therefore incompetent to sustain the dignity of his position. He knew that the students would laugh if a smart sea should upset him, or cause him to reel, during his demonstration at the blackboard; and he was unwilling to tempt them. For this reason it was usually vacation time in very stormy weather. The seamen not on duty were reclining in their berths, or wedged into various corners where they could save themselves from being pitched about by the savage plunging of the vessel. Every movable thing had been secured by the stewards, for neither tables nor stools would stay upon their legs.

Professor Primback was very nervous and uneasy in the absence of the vice-principal; for he did not place any great confidence in the good judgment and discretion of the young officers of the vessel. He perversely refused to inform himself in regard to seamanship and maritime custom and law; and he was no better than a child outside of the duties of an instructor. He remained in his berth till after nine o’clock in the morning, because he would not trust himself to the uneasy deck. But he was not satisfied with the action of the young commander, even after the latter had consulted with Mr. Marline.

After he had carefully considered the situation without being able to reach any conclusion, he decided to go on deck,—if he could get there,—and examine for himself into the condition of affairs. He got out of his berth with no little difficulty, and by sundry darts and plunges reached the companion-way. While he had the baluster under his hand he did very well, and succeeded in reaching the quarter-deck without any disaster.

Seeing Capt. Wainwright on the weather side, he waited a moment till the vessel was on an even keel, and then started for him. If he had known any thing about the motions of a ship, or had understood the meaning of the order given, “Ready about,” as he appeared at the companion-way, he would not have undertaken the feat of crossing the deck at that particular moment.

“Hard down the helm!” shouted Scott, the second lieutenant, who was then in charge of the deck.

The Tritonia threw her head up into the wind as the hands at the wheel obeyed the order. As she fell off she met a tremendous wave, which broke over the top-gallant forecastle, and, as the bow of the vessel rose upon the sea, sent tons of water rolling along the lee side of the deck. The officers and seamen, as taught to do by experience, seized the life-lines, and held on for a moment till the water had poured out through the scuppers. But Mr. Primback was either too ignorant or too dignified to depend upon any support but his legs, and was knocked from his feet, and carried over to leeward. Mr. Marline and some others had warned him in season of his danger; but unfortunately they used sea-slang in doing so, and the professor did not comprehend the warning.

The boatswain sprang to his assistance, and picked him up. He conducted him to one of the life-lines, where he was content to hold on. The foresail and the mainsail went over, and as soon as they filled the motion of the schooner was easier.

“What do you mean, sir?” demanded the professor angrily, as Scott passed by him in the discharge of his duty.

“I don’t mean any thing, sir,” replied the joker demurely, and was about to continue on his way to the waist.

“Stop, sir! What do you mean by playing a trick upon me when I come on deck?” foamed the worthy instructor.

“I beg your pardon, sir, if I have done any thing wrong,” added Scott, shrugging his shoulders like a Frenchman. “I did not mean to do any thing out of the way.”

“You tipped the ship so as to throw me down,” added the irate professor.

“I didn’t tip the ship, sir.”

“You gave the order to have it done, as soon as you saw me come on deck.”

“The captain ordered me to tack ship, and I gave the order to the watch on deck, sir. I only did what the captain told me to do.”

“This isn’t the first time you have played such a trick upon me,” continued Mr. Primback, who honestly believed that Scott was the author of his misfortune.

The professor considered that any person who was capable of making a joke would not scruple to do a wicked deed; and for this reason Scott was not a favorite with the professor.

“I never played a trick upon you in my life, sir,” pleaded the second lieutenant, with his cheerful smile.

“Don’t contradict me, Scott!” said Mr. Primback, waxing more indignant as he saw the smile. “I will report you for discipline to the vice-principal as soon as he returns.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Primback,” interposed the captain, “but I do not think Mr. Scott was to blame.”

“I did not ask your opinion, Wainwright: I hold Mr. Scott responsible for his own acts,” snapped the professor.

“He only obeyed the order I gave him to tack ship, and it was not his fault that she made a lee lurch.”

“You will use none of that gibberish to me! And I will tolerate no interference when I speak to a student.”

“I only desired to explain, sir,” added the captain, with the utmost deference and respect.

“Then do it in English.”

“When the vessel turned so that the wind did not press upon the sails, the heavy waves caused her to roll and pitch violently,” continued the captain.

“And Scott turned the vessel just as he saw me come on deck.”

“I gave him the order to turn her.”

“He could have waited a moment till I had reached a secure position. He has been guilty of disrespect to the senior professor of the vessel.—Scott, you will go down into the cabin, and settle this case with me,” continued Mr. Primback, who was certainly more irritable than usual.

Wainwright was confounded by this order. It was plain that the professor had forgotten the regulation of the principal, which ought to have governed him in the present emergency. In the absence of the vice-principal, he had no control whatever over the captain in regard to the management of the vessel. He was taking the course pursued by another professor in the squadron, who had been sent home for interfering with the discipline of the ship.

“Mr. Scott is the officer of the deck, sir,” said the captain, greatly embarrassed by the situation.

“I don’t care if he is: he will obey my order, or I will suspend him from duty,” replied Mr. Primback stoutly.

“You will excuse me, sir, if I call your attention to the regulation bearing upon this case,” continued the captain.

“Is my order to be obeyed, or not?” demanded the professor.

“I hope you will revoke the order till you have looked at the regulations, sir.”

“This is insolence, Wainwright. I am the acting vice-principal of this vessel in the absence of Mr. Pelham. I stand in his place; and he is authorized to suspend an officer for cause.”

“If you will be kind enough to read the regulations, I think you will see that you are mistaken,” added the captain in a low tone.

“I am not mistaken,” persisted the professor.

“We shall have to tack again in a moment, Mr. Primback; and the vessel will roll and pitch as badly as before.”

“I think you had better go below, sir,” said Mr. Marline, coming up to the professor at this moment, hoping to make an end of the disagreeable controversy. “The sea is very heavy, and she may roll herself full of water up to the rail.”

“Mr. Marline, you will see that Scott obeys my order,” replied Mr. Primback, creeping along the life-line towards the companion-way.

The boatswain made no reply, but took the arm of the “philosopher,” as he insisted upon calling all the professors, and helped him down the steps. He deposited him on a sofa where he could preserve his equilibrium. The learned gentleman was very glad to be in a safe position again; but he could not forget the fancied injury to which he had been subjected.

“I ordered Scott to come into the cabin, and settle his case with me, Mr. Marline. He hasn’t come yet,” said the professor, wiping the salt spray from his face.

“I beg your honor’s pardon, but you are all wrong in this matter,” replied Marline bluntly, for he saw that nothing but plain speech would answer his purpose.

At the same time he took from his pocket a copy of the regulations which had been printed on board of the Young America, and slowly unfolded the document.

“How can I be all wrong, when, in the absence of the vice-principal, I am in his place, and my authority is supreme?” asked the professor in great astonishment.

“Your honor is no sailor.”

“I thank the stars that I am not.”

“The regulations say that you cannot interfere with the management of the vessel, or with the officers and seamen in the discharge of their duty. If the vice-principal is not on board, the professors can’t meddle with the navigation of the ship. That’s the law; and all we have to do is to obey it.”

Mr. Primback took the regulations, adjusted his glasses, and proceeded to read the articles relating to his own duties. The boatswain was right; but the professor was unwilling to admit the fact.

“Am I placed at the mercy of these boys?” demanded Mr. Primback, as he removed his glasses, and looked at the boatswain.

“So far as handling the vessel is concerned, I don’t see that you have any thing to do with them.”

“They are my scholars, but they may insult me if they choose.”

“But they don’t choose to do any thing of the kind. It was no more Scott’s fault that you were rolled into the scuppers, than it was mine; and I’m sure I had nothing to do with it,” added Marline.

“I don’t believe it: the fellow laughed in my face when I spoke to him. If he comes into the cabin, as I directed him to do, and makes a suitable apology for his conduct, I will pass over his offence as lightly as possible.”

“Scott obeyed orders, and he couldn’t help himself.”

“He did not want to help himself,” persisted Mr. Primback. “I will resign my position before I will submit to such treatment.”

Just then the Tritonia tacked, and the vessel gave a tremendous lurch, as if to illustrate the argument of the boatswain. The professor was hurled from his seat, and Marline helped him up.

“You don’t think that I did that, do you, Mr. Primback?” asked the old salt.

“Of course you did not. Have you any control over these boys, Mr. Marline?” inquired the professor in a tone of contempt.

“None at all in the absence of the vice-principal,” answered the boatswain.

“Then they may take us anywhere, and do what they please with us, if I understand the situation.”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“Then I never comprehended my position before,” added the professor, with increasing disgust.

“The trouble, if there is any, is all on account of the absence of the vice-principal, who is authority in all matters.”

“I had trouble enough with these boys before he came on board. I supposed in his absence that I took his place.”

“But your honor is no sailor; and you couldn’t handle the vessel if you tried.”

“I have no desire to handle the vessel; but, if these boys can insult me with impunity, it is time for me to know it.”

The conversation, which did not promise to end in any happy result, was interrupted by the appearance of third master Lingall, who politely touched his hat, and stood waiting to deliver his message.

“What do you want?” demanded Mr. Primback.

“The captain desires to see Mr. Marline on deck,” said Lingall.

“Tell the captain that Mr. Marline is engaged with me,” interposed the professor testily.

“I will report to the captain myself,” added Marline, who was in a better frame of mind than the “philosopher.”

“Wait till I have done with you.”

“I beg your honor’s pardon, but I always obey the captain,” replied the boatswain; and touching his hat, and scraping his right foot across the floor, he hastened on deck.

“Stop!” called Mr. Primback. “I have something more to say to you.”

“I will see your honor as soon as I can,” added the boatswain; and he ran up the steps.

Mr. Marline could see that the professor was very unreasonable, considering there was a steamer in distress depending upon the Tritonia for assistance. He touched his hat to the captain, and waited for further orders.

“What do you think of the sea now, Mr. Marline?” asked Wainwright.

“It has improved a good deal during the last hour.”

“Do you think it is prudent to get out a boat?”

“I think it is as good weather as we are likely to have for some time,” replied Marline, looking at the sky and the sea.

“Then we will board the steamer.”

The captain gave the order to call all hands; and, as soon as the ship’s company had mustered, the vessel was heaved to. The second cutter was cleared away, and her crew piped into her. O’Hara was detailed to take charge of her; and Mr. Rimmer, the carpenter, was directed to go in the boat, not only to render any assistance that might be required in boarding the steamer, but to examine into her condition.

The cutter was lowered into the water, with the crew in her, under the direction of Mr. Marline. It was no easy task to accomplish this work in the heavy sea. The boat rose and fell on the angry waves; but it was so well managed that very little water was taken in. Under the lee of the drifting steamer the water was comparatively smooth. The man who had hailed the Tritonia threw a line to the cutter, which Mr. Marline secured to the fore-thwart.

“Are we to lower the ladies into the cutter?” asked O’Hara, when the boat was fast to the steamer.

“I can’t say what’s to be done till we have boarded her,” replied the boatswain.

“Then I’ll do that same at once,” added the fourth lieutenant; and, suiting the action to the word, he ran up the line like a cat.

“Well, good gracious! this is one of the academy squadron!” said the man on board of the steamer, as O’Hara leaped down from the rail. “I thought so the minute I laid eyes on her; but, seeing her out here all alone, I gave up the idea at once.”

“Mr. Frisbone!” exclaimed the lieutenant, as he recognized the gentleman who had presented the American Prince to the principal of the academy squadron.

“Well, you boys are smart sailors; and you are an honor to your country,” added Mr. Frisbone.

“I thought you had given up going in any steamers, after your experience in the American Prince.”

“We went to Liverpool to meet my wife’s sister, who came over here for her health. The doctors said Malaga was the place for her to spend the winter; and we started for Spain. When I got into France, I found the Germans had got almost over to the seashore; and we took this steamer at Havre for Cadiz. Last night she was run into by another vessel, and had a hole knocked in her bow. We were the only passengers on board; and the crew jumped on board of the other vessel as soon as they found she had a hole in her.”

“But didn’t they try to save you and your wife?” asked O’Hara indignantly.

“Yes, they did; but my wife and her sister were both sick in their berths; and, when I got them out, the crew had deserted her, and the other vessel was out of sight in the fog. The fact was, they were so flurried they didn’t know what they were about.”

“We will take them on board of the Tritonia.”

“I don’t believe we could ever get them into that boat,” added Mr. Frisbone, as he glanced at the cutter, which was almost swamped in every sea that swept by her.

“The steamer don’t seem to be in any present danger of going down,” said O’Hara.

“She won’t sink this time; and, if her crew had only stuck by her, they might have saved her.”

“She is not very heavily loaded.”

“She has some machinery or something of that sort in her; and it must have shifted so as to bring that hole out of the water. If I had some help I could right her.”

O’Hara asked Mr. Rimmer to come on board.

CHAPTER VI.
A VOLUNTEER SHIP’S COMPANY.

THE carpenter of the Tritonia climbed up the rope, and reached the deck of the steamer. The moment he saw Mr. Frisbone, he recognized him, and saluted him with nautical politeness.

“Mr. Rimmer, the carpenter of the Tritonia,” said O’Hara, by way of introduction.

“I am glad to see an American seaman on board of this steamer,” replied Mr. Frisbone heartily. “You are the carpenter of the Tritonia, and you can soon tell whether this vessel is worth saving.”

“She don’t seem to be in very bad condition with the exception of that hole in her starboard bow,” added Mr. Rimmer, as he cast his eyes about him.

“I wish you would look her over; and then we can decide what is best to be done.”

The carpenter began his survey of the vessel, accompanied by Mr. Frisbone and O’Hara. They visited every part of her, examining very carefully into her condition.

“I suppose I know as much about the engine as anybody; and I can say that it is in good order,” said Mr. Frisbone, as they passed the door of the engine-room.

“I don’t know any thing about engines,” added the carpenter modestly. “But I can say that the vessel is in first-rate condition; and that hole in her bow can be stopped so that she will live in any sea. The opening is above the water-line, so that there will be no great pressure upon it.”

“Then we can save the vessel,” replied the American Prince, as he claimed to be, and as he had named his steam-yacht. “That will be a feather in the caps of you boys.”

“I should like to take a hand in the game,” said O’Hara, his face lighting up at the prospect.

“But we want help; and there is a great deal of hard work to be done,” continued Mr. Frisbone. “How many hands have you in your boat?”

“Ten besides Mr. Rimmer.”

“If they are good stout hands, we may do something with them.”

“But I must report the condition of the vessel, and wait for further orders,” interposed O’Hara.

“Quite right,” added the Prince, with a smile. “I forgot that you live on your discipline.”

“But the boat came off to take you and the ladies on board the Tritonia.”

“I think we are safe enough here for the present; and I know the women-folks won’t think they can get into that boat while it is bobbing around like corn in a popper. Return to your ship, and give my respects to the captain and the old folks on board, and tell them I think the steamer can be saved.”

O’Hara tried to explain how easy it would be to get the ladies into the cutter; but Mr. Frisbone seemed to be unwilling to leave the steamer while there was a chance to save her. He conducted the young officer into the cabin, the door of which opened from the main deck.

“Here, Maggie,” said the Prince, calling to his wife, who was in her state-room. “One of the vessels of the academy squadron has come to get us out of this scrape.”

Mrs. Frisbone came out of the state-room, looking very pale and sick. She was followed by her sister the invalid, who, however, looked better than the Prince’s wife.

“This is Lieut. O’Hara, of the Tritonia; Mrs. Frisbone.”

The young officer took off his cap, and bowed politely to the lady.

“Miss Louise Rodwood, my wife’s sister,” continued the prince.

O’Hara thought she was a very pretty girl, and he indulged in an extra flourish as he saluted her.

“With the compliments of the captain, I beg to tender you the hospitalities of the Tritonia,” said the lieutenant, when he had formally greeted the ladies.

“Good!” roared the American Prince. “That is a very pretty way to address a couple of shipwrecked women; and it is a credit to your bringing-up.”

“I beg to place our vessel at the disposal of the ladies; and whatever else we may not be able to do for you, we will keep the ship right side up.”

“That’s handsome; and the boat is all ready to take you to the steamer, Maggie.”

“I would rather drown where I am than attempt to get into that boat,” protested Mrs. Frisbone. “I saw it from the window in my room; and it jumps about like a wild horse.”

“I am sure I can’t slide down a rope into the boat as I saw that man come up,” added Miss Rodwood.

“All right; and we will stay where we are for the present,” said Mr. Frisbone.

“We can rig a whip, and lower the ladies into the cutter without any difficulty,” persisted the young officer, who perhaps thought it would be pleasant to have such a passenger as the younger lady.

“If we are in no danger here, as Mr. Frisbone says we are not, I prefer to stay where I am,” replied Mrs. Frisbone; and her sister was of the same mind.

“All right, lieutenant,” added the Prince. “I thought the women would rather stay where they are; and I think you had better return to your ship, and report to the captain. If he will send as many men as he can spare, I believe we can put this craft into sailing-trim in a few hours.”

“I will do so, sir. But you forget that we have no engineers on board of the Tritonia to run the engine,” suggested O’Hara.

“I will run the engine myself. I never went to sea much, but I have run an engine on a river and bay steamer enough to understand the business,” replied the American Prince. “If you will find firemen, I will look out for the engine.”

“I will report all you say to the captain.”

“Let me see: you have a vice-principal, or something of that sort, in each of the consorts. Of course he will direct in this matter.”

“We have no vice-principal in the Tritonia just now;” and O’Hara explained how they happened to be without one.

“Then I suppose the professors attend to this business.”

“No, sir: the captain attends to it in the absence of the vice-principal. The professors have nothing to do with the management of the vessel, for they are not sailors.”

“And I would rather trust the young gentlemen in matters of seamanship than the professors,” added Mr. Rimmer, with a chuckle.

O’Hara bowed to the ladies, and retired from the cabin. He tried to be dignified and graceful; but the heavy rolling of the steamer interfered sadly with the poetry of motion. Both of the ladies were holding on with all their might at the brass rods which extended the entire length of the cabin on each side, except across the doors of the state-rooms. Every thing seemed to be in good order, and every article was lashed so that it could not move at the motion of the vessel.

O’Hara and Rimmer slid down into the boat, which was protected from the full force of the sea by being under the lee of the steamer. The cutters were all life-boats, and when well handled would keep right side up in any ordinary sea. The crews had been thoroughly disciplined in the roughest weather in which it was safe to launch a boat; so that they were perfectly at home on the present occasion.

The second cutter pulled under the davits, and the falls were hooked on. This feat was accomplished not without great difficulty, and only by watching for the favorable moment. A blunder might have smashed the boat, and thrown its crew into the sea. When the falls were fast, the hands on deck hoisted the boat up to the davits.

O’Hara reported to the captain, and explained why the passengers on board the wreck had not come off in the boat. Wainwright was not a little surprised to learn that Mr. Frisbone, the munificent donor of the American Prince, was on board of the steamer with his wife. He knew precisely what Mr. Lowington would do if he had been within hail, and precisely what he would wish to have done in his absence.

“Mr. Frisbone desires you to send as many hands as you can spare; and with help enough he is confident we can save the steamer, and take her into port,” continued the fourth lieutenant.

“How many of our ship’s company can we spare, Mr. Marline?” asked the captain, turning to the adult boatswain, who had been called to hear the report of the lieutenant.

“We can get along well enough with one watch,” replied the old salt.

“That was just my view of the matter,” added the captain. “But I will not detail either watch as a whole. There will be a great deal of hard and dirty work to be done on board of the steamer, and I will call for volunteers.”

All hands were piped to muster in form, for they had already come on deck to witness the expected arrival of the passengers from the wreck. The seamen laid hold of the life-lines and such parts of the vessel as afforded them a hold, and waited impatiently to learn what was to be done. Capt. Wainwright made a speech in which he explained the situation on board of the steamer. She was to be saved and sent into port if possible. This announcement was greeted with yells and cheers.

“I purpose to select a crew to man the steamer,” continued Wainwright. “The work on board of her will be difficult, and some of it very dirty and disagreeable. I shall therefore call for volunteers.”

“Stop, Wainwright!” suddenly interposed Mr. Primback, who had crawled on deck in season to hear the last part of the captain’s speech, after one of the stewards had informed him what was transpiring on board.

“I beg your pardon, Professor Primback; but this business admits of no delay,” replied the captain, vexed at the interruption of the “philosopher.”

“What do you mean, Wainwright, by sending half the students out of the vessel without saying a word to me?” demanded the irate instructor.

“I have consulted with Mr. Marline, as you desired, sir; and I don’t think there is any other way to do.”

“But I object. You have taken the ship a long way out of her course; and here you are wasting your time and mine in some Quixotic adventure.”

“Have you been informed that Mr. Frisbone, the gentleman who presented the American Prince to the principal, is on board of that steamer, with his wife and her sister, sir?”

“I have been so informed; but that don’t affect the case at all. You sent a boat to convey them on board of this vessel, which was a very proper thing to do, as it involved the possible saving of human life. To that I did not object: I do not now object to such just and proper action as may be necessary to insure the safety of any persons on board of the unfortunate vessel,” continued Mr. Primback, whose speech became more precise and dignified as he cooled off. “I do not propose to interfere with the management of the vessel; but when you indicate your intention to send away one-half of my pupils on a boyish expedition of very doubtful practicability, I feel it to be my duty to interfere as one having authority.”

“I shall be very sorry to do any thing without your approval, Professor Primback,” replied Wainwright, in a very respectful tone.

“Do I understand you to mean by that, you intend to proceed with the plan you have just announced without my sanction, and even in opposition to my direct prohibition?” demanded Mr. Primback, controlling his wrath as well as he could.

“I hope you will not compel me to do any thing of the kind, sir.”

“I understand you perfectly, Wainwright. You are prepared, I see, to set at defiance my authority,” continued the professor, biting his lips to repress his anger.

“I should like to speak with you a few moments, brother Primback,” interposed Dr. Crumples, the other instructor of the Tritonia.

“I am ready to hear any thing you have to say, doctor,” replied Mr. Primback coldly.

Though the two professors never quarrelled, or exhibited any signs of variance, before the students, there was no sympathy whatever between them. Dr. Crumples was a genial, good-natured man, rather fond of a joke; while the other cared for nothing but Greek, Latin, science, and philosophy.

“I have been reading the regulations, and I have come to the conclusion that you and I have nothing to do or say about the nautical affairs of this vessel,” said the doctor, in a low tone, not intended for the ears of the students.

“Do you intend to sustain the boys in their resistance to my authority, Dr. Crumples?” demanded the philosopher, straightening himself up to the full height of his dignity.

Unfortunately for him, in doing this he let go of the life-line; and a sudden jerk of the vessel would have pitched him down into the scuppers if Marline had not seized him by the arm, and held him. He came down from his dignity all in a heap. The students turned away to hide the laugh they could not suppress.

“I certainly do not intend to sustain the boys in their resistance to your authority, for the simple reason that I don’t believe you have any authority in the premises. If you will come into the cabin, where both of us will be more at ease than on this unstable deck, I shall be happy to explain my view of the case,” replied Dr. Crumples, when his associate was fairly planted on his legs again.

“I do not care to know your opinion of the case, Dr. Crumples,” added Mr. Primback tartly.

“You know it already, professor,” chuckled the doctor.

“I am the senior professor of the ship, with full powers to direct every thing”—

“In the scholastic department,” interposed the doctor.

“Do you suppose I am placed here to follow the lead of a boy?” demanded Mr. Primback, pointing at the captain of the Tritonia in the most contemptuous manner.

In releasing his hold upon the life-line he was in great danger of being upset again, and Marline grasped his arm, this time so vigorously that the professor groaned with pain. Possibly the old salt was disgusted with the “philosopher,” and expressed his feeling in this way.

“Do you mean to break my arm, Mr. Marline?”

“I beg your honor’s pardon, but I was afraid you were going to be shied into the scuppers again,” pleaded the boatswain.

“I shall call for volunteers, my lads,” Capt. Wainwright continued, resuming his speech to the ship’s company where he had left off.

“You will not call for volunteers, Wainwright!” interposed Mr. Primback warmly. “I forbid you to call for volunteers! I forbid any student to volunteer! It is my order that you proceed on the voyage to Madeira, according to the direction of the principal.”

“Shall I leave Mr. Frisbone and the ladies to perish on the wreck?” asked the captain mildly.

“I have already given you permission to bring them on board of the Tritonia. You may still do that,” replied the senior professor.

“But the ladies decline to get into the boat while the sea is so rough.”

“Is it possible to get the ladies into the boat, Mr. Marline?” asked the professor, turning to the boatswain.

“I suppose we could hoist them into the boat by main force; but they said they preferred to drown where they were, rather than slide down on a rope into the cutter,” replied the boatswain, rather doggedly. “If we can save the steamer we ought to do it, in my judgment.”

“We have nothing to do with saving the vessel. We are not out upon the ocean for any such purpose.”

“Just as your honor pleases.”

“If the ladies will not get into the boat, you must either force them to do so, or leave them where they are,” added Mr. Primback.

Wainwright said nothing more. It could make no difference to him if the senior professor did forbid any further action towards the saving of the steamer. His action was approved by all the other adults on board; and he was confident that the officers and seamen would obey his orders, possibly with greater readiness than if the head of the scholastic department had not forbidden them to do so.

The Tritonia had filled away again on the return of the second cutter from the wreck. By this time it was necessary to come about again, and stand towards the steamer. Wainwright politely notified Mr. Primback that the vessel was about to “go in stays;” hoping that he would retire to the cabin, and permit him to finish the business of the hour.

“Go in stays! Will you ever speak English, Wainwright? Do you mean to insult me by using that gibberish to me when I have forbidden you to do so?”

“That is the proper nautical expression for what we are about to do,” replied the captain.

“Do you mean that you are going to turn the vessel?”

“That is substantially what we intend to do; but sailors would not understand me if I called it turning the vessel.”

“Do you presume to instruct me in the use of language, Wainwright?”

“By no means, sir; but I use nautical language as I was instructed to use it by Mr. Lowington and the other instructors in seamanship and navigation.—Mr. Greenwood, let the vessel go in stays,” continued the captain, turning to the first lieutenant.

“Man the fore and main sheets!” called the executive officer. “Ease down the helm!”

As the vessel came up into the wind in obedience to her helm, the fore and main sheet began to bang and thrash as the pressure was removed.

“Haul in on the sheets,” called the first lieutenant; and the order was repeated by the other officers in charge of the sheets.

“I’m afraid you will get hit by the sheet-blocks if you stand here any longer, sir,” said Mr. Marline to Professor Primback. “Excuse me, sir, but you had better go below, or the vessel will shake you up badly as she catches the wind on the other tack.”

The professor made a dive at the companion-way. As the vessel at that instant was on an even keel, he succeeded in reaching his destination. The line of seamen “walking away” with the fore-sheet then crowded upon him, and he fled to the cabin in disgust. The Tritonia gave a terrible lurch as the sails filled on the port tack; and the grouty professor, losing his hold of the stair-post, was pitched down to the lee side of the cabin. One of the stewards picked him up; but his temper got the better of him. Dr. Crumples tried to comfort him; but he would not be comforted.

The Tritonia was again headed towards the steamer. The captain took some time to consult with Mr. Marline and Mr. Rimmer in regard to the detail of officers and seamen for duty on the disabled vessel. Then he had a talk with O’Hara, though no one could hear what passed between them. All hands were again called; and every one on board volunteered, as the captain had told Marline they would.

“Perhaps, when I have explained the duties of the crew on board of the steamer, you will not be so willing,” said the captain, with a laugh. “It will be necessary for a portion of the volunteers to act as firemen; and I need not tell you that the fire-room of any steamer is a very hot and dirty hole. But this work will be fairly divided among all the seamen.”

“But not among the officers,” added a young salt, laughing.

“Certainly not: I shall detail two officers for duty in the engine-room; but I select them simply because they understand the business,” replied the captain. “Lieut. O’Hara will act as captain of the steamer; first master Speers as chief officer; second master Raymond as second officer.”

These names were received with cheers by the seamen; but the three lieutenants whose names had not been mentioned thought it a little strange that they had been passed over, though the third lieutenant, Alexander, was competent to run an engine, which explained why his name had been omitted.

“Lieut. Alexander will act as chief engineer, and fourth master Richards as assistant,” continued the captain, reading from a paper he had made out.

The names of eighteen seamen and petty officers were then read; and Wainwright desired any one who had any objections to make, to make them now, for it would be too late when the party had gone on board of the steamer. No one made any objections; and the order was given to clear away the second and third cutters. They were lowered into the water, one at a time, and their crews pulled for the steamer. Mr. Rimmer, the second cook, and two stewards were sent with them.

CHAPTER VII.
THE INVALID YOUNG LADY.

WHEN Professor Primback heard the noise of lowering the boats into the water, he wrote a formal order to the captain not to send away any portion of the ship’s company, unless it was to bring off the passengers of the steamer. He signed his name in full to this document, and sent it on deck by one of the stewards. Wainwright took the paper, read it attentively, and then put it into his pocket. He took no further notice of it.

The senior professor evidently supposed that no notice would be taken of the order, and he seemed to be aware that he had no means of enforcing his commands; for he went to his state-room, and made no further demonstration. He did not even speak to Dr. Crumples about the matter.

As the crew of the steamer had taken the boats with them when they abandoned her, the second and third cutters of the Tritonia were to be retained by the party. In half an hour they were all on board the steamer, with the boats hoisted up at the davits. O’Hara reported what had been done on board of the Tritonia to Mr. Frisbone, and informed him that he had been appointed captain of the steamer, or, at least, of the party sent to assist in saving her.

“Capt. O’Hara, I greet you! and the captain of the Tritonia could not have selected a better captain, without speaking ill of the other officers; for I know how well you managed some very difficult business in Italy last fall,” said Mr. Frisbone. “Now will you introduce me to the rest of your officers?”

O’Hara presented them one at a time, and the American Prince shook hands with each. When he came to Mr. Alexander, he gave one of his loud and hearty laughs.

“I thought I was to be chief engineer,” said he, wringing the hand of Alexander; “but I am willing to place myself under your orders, Mr. Chief Engineer.”

“He is the chief engineer as far as our party is concerned,” O’Hara explained. “Though Capt. Wainwright is the commander of the Tritonia in name and in fact, so far as doing duty is concerned, yet the vice-principal is really the captain. If you please, Mr. Frisbone, we shall all regard you as the principal, on board of the steamer.”

“All right, Capt. O’Hara,” replied the Prince, who seemed to take great delight in giving the young officers their full titles, and using them often.

“I shall be glad to take my orders from you; and the chief engineer will do the same,” added O’Hara.

“Possibly the chief engineer knows more about running an engine than I do; and I know more about building them than I do of running them.”

“Of course I shall give in to you, sir,” said Alexander.

“Thank you; but do you really know any thing about an engine, Mr. Alexander?” asked Mr. Frisbone, in his teasing tone.

“Two years ago I was assistant engineer on a screw steamer about the size of this one,” answered Alexander.

“And how old were you two years ago?”

“I was eighteen, sir. My father received a legacy from an uncle in Scotland, which made him a rich man; and then I was sent to this institution to finish my education. I had worked two years in a machine-shop before I went to sea at all. I think I can run an engine, sir.”

“I have no doubt you can; in fact, I believe these young gentlemen can do any thing that anybody can,” added Mr. Frisbone, laughing heartily; and sometimes no one could imagine what he was laughing at.

“The second engineer ran a stationary engine when he was twelve years old, in his father’s shop,” continued O’Hara, when he had presented this officer.

“And I was engineer of a small steam-yacht when I was fourteen,” added Richards.

“All right, young gentlemen; and I shall have nothing to do but sleep in the cabin, and take care of the women-folks,” chuckled the Prince.

“I think some of our officers will be quite willing to assist you in that part of your duty,” said O’Hara lightly. “Upon my loife, the young lady is as beautiful as the lovely Giulia Fabiano; and, by the powers, that’s saying a great dale!”

“By the way, now I think of it, is there a young gentleman in the squadron by the name of Speers,—Tom Speers?”

“There is, sir; and he is one of our party,” replied O’Hara. “Where are ye, Tom Speers?”

Tom had been introduced; but the Prince evidently did not notice the name, for he had called him “Mr. Spear,” when he addressed him. Tom came forward when his name was called.

“How is it you happen to be here, Mr. Speers?” asked the Prince.

“I was detailed to act as chief officer of this vessel, by the captain of the Tritonia, sir,” replied Tom, wondering how Mr. Frisbone happened to know any thing about him.

“I know; but you were sent for by my friend Judge Rodwood, to go to England.”

“I did not go, sir.”

“Well, we won’t stop to talk about that now. We must go to work on the steamer at once, and have her in good condition in case another storm comes on,” said Mr. Frisbone, suddenly changing his tone and manner.

But, before the officers left the cabin, he introduced them to his wife and her sister; then the party took a look at the vessel below. Mr. Rimmer had been studying the hole in the starboard bow since he came on board, and by this time he was hard at work repairing the damage. Two seamen, who had a taste for carpentry, were detailed to assist him. Until the hole was stopped, nothing could be done towards righting the vessel; for she lay just in the proper position to enable the carpenter to do his work to the best advantage.

Mr. Rimmer intended to do the job in a much more thorough manner than he had at first proposed, for the reason that he found the materials for it on board. He proceeded to splice the broken ribs, and then to plank them over, as the work would have been done in a ship-yard. A stage was rigged, and lowered over the side; and, while the carpenter was getting out his stock, his assistants removed the broken planking. The heavy rolling of the vessel interfered very much with operations on the stage; but the workmen were very zealous, and made good progress in spite of all the disadvantages.

In the mean time Mr. Frisbone and the rest of the ship’s company were preparing to right the steamer, and pump the water out of her, as soon as this work could be undertaken. The steam-pump was put in good order; and every thing about the vessel was restored to its usual condition, so far as it was possible to do so.

In the afternoon the wind abated almost to a calm, and a boat came from the Tritonia to pay the steamer a visit. Mr. Marline was in it, with one of the stewards who had been a ship-carpenter. Both of them went to work with Mr. Rimmer, and before dark the hole was planked over. As there were some indications of bad weather again, the Tritonia’s boat returned, and Mr. Rimmer and his assistants proceeded to calk the seams by the light of the lanterns. By midnight the job was completed, even to coppering the part below the water-line.

Before eight bells in the evening, the ship’s company had been divided into two watches, as in the merchant service. One watch had turned in at eight bells; but all hands were called at midnight, when the repairs were finished. At this time the steam-pump was started, and it discharged the water at a very rapid rate. Mr. Rimmer followed the water as it receded in the hold, to ascertain if there was any leak in the bottom; but none was found.

The steamer had for a cargo the parts of an iron bridge, and the labels upon them indicated that it was consigned to a firm in Barcelona. One of the heaviest of the pieces had shifted from its position in the hold, throwing others out of place, till their weight had heeled the vessel over as the party had found her.

“Well, Capt. O’Hara, do you think you can stow this cargo over again so as to right the vessel?” asked Mr. Frisbone, when the pump had worked long enough to afford them a full view of the condition of the hold.

“I have no doubt I can,” replied O’Hara confidently.

“But some of those pieces weigh several tons,” suggested the Prince.

“But we have a donkey-engine on deck; and, with snatch-blocks, we can apply the power in any direction we desire.”

“Precisely so: I see that you are master of the situation.”

The captain had already caused the necessary blocks and rigging to be collected in the hold. The assistant engineer was stationed at the donkey-engine, the snatch-blocks were arranged for moving the heaviest piece of the bridge, and the rope was adjusted. A chain sling was attached to the iron, and the line made fast to it.

“Go ahead!” said O’Hara, when every thing was ready; and the order was passed along the line of seamen until it reached the officer in charge of the donkey-engine.

The rope straightened and strained as the power was applied; and then the huge mass of iron began slowly to move in the required direction. Mr. Rimmer and his gang placed the skids, and in the course of half an hour the piece was moved to the place indicated by the carpenter. The steamer came up on an even keel as the heavy weight changed position.

“But she is down too much by the stern,” said Mr. Rimmer, when the piece had been blocked securely in its place.

“I see why that is,” added the Prince. “Half a dozen of those tube pieces have rolled out of the places where they were first stowed.”

These were restored to their original beds as indicated by the blocking; and they had doubtless been thrown out of place by the shifting of the larger piece.

“The vessel is in good trim now,” said Mr. Rimmer, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “Those pieces will not move again unless the steamer goes over on her beam-ends.”

The party left the hold, and hastened on deck. The weather was still mild, though the sky was clouded over. The captain sent an order to the chief engineer, directing him to get up steam. The fires had been started in the furnaces; but only steam enough had been made to work the donkey-engine, which was not furnished with a separate boiler, as in many vessels.

The amateur firemen had been fully instructed in their duties by Mr. Frisbone, who remained in the fire-room till morning. Thus far the seamen considered the hot and dirty work as good fun; but they were not likely to hold this opinion for any length of time. Four hands had been detailed from each watch to serve as firemen; and these were to work two at a time, so that only two hours’ service were required of each, or six hours a day. The fire-room was well ventilated, so that it was not so intensely hot as in many steamers. A lot of cast-off woollen shirts and trousers had been brought from the Tritonia for the use of the firemen.

Mr. Frisbone did not like the looks of the quarters occupied by the French sailors and firemen; and he insisted that the seamen should be berthed in the cabin. There were state-rooms enough to accommodate them all; but the part of the cabin used by the officers was separated from that of the seamen by a curtain sliding on a brass rod.

The steamer was the Ville d’Angers. She was evidently a nearly new vessel, of about six hundred tons. Unlike most of the English steamers, she had a pilot-house forward, as in American vessels of this kind. Her cabin was handsomely fitted up, and she appeared to be a first-class steamer in every respect.

O’Hara went into the pilot-house, when the work below was completed. Tom Speers followed him, for there was nothing more to be done till the engineer should report that he had steam enough to start her.

“This will be a big spree, my boy,” said the captain, as he seated himself by the wheel.

“The biggest that ever happened. I am amazed to find myself in it,” replied Tom. “I don’t see how I came to be appointed to the second place on board, when there are so many fellows above me that wanted to take a hand in this business.”

“You don’t see it? Then I’ll tell you, my boy,” added the captain with a jolly laugh, as though he enjoyed the situation.

“I suppose you helped me into the place.”

“Troth, I did, thin! You see, when a fellow like you, rotten with stamps, with millions in prospect, and a letter of credit for thousands in his trousers-pocket, comes along, it is well to get on the right side of him,” continued O’Hara, laughing all the time.

“I don’t believe the money had any thing to do with it,” protested Tom. “You are the farthest from a selfish fellow of all the ship’s company; and I won’t believe what you say of yourself.”

“Thank you for so much, my lad. But I’ll bet a hackle, if the fellows knew how rich you are, they would say that’s the rayson. When Capt. Wainwright told me beforehand that he should give me the command of the steamer, which he didn’t do till he had talked it over with Mr. Marline, he asked me to tell him who I wanted for officers. Your name was the first I gave him; so don’t forget me when you make your will.”

“I certainly will not if I have any thing to leave,” replied Tom.

“Steam up!” shouted Alexander through the speaking-tube which connected with the engine-room.

“Then we are all ready to go ahead. Have you seen the Tritonia’s lights lately, Tom?” said O’Hara, looking out in the direction from which they had been last seen.

“I have not: we have all been so busy that we have not thought of her. She has been standing off and on all night, I suppose.”

“There she is, astern of us,” added O’Hara. “We must run down and report the state of things on board to the captain. Call the quartermaster and a seaman to take the wheel, if you please, Tom.”

The two hands were called into the pilot-house, and the quartermaster was given the charge of the wheel. The other hand was required to assist him, for the officers had not yet learned how much force was needed to steer the steamer.

“Do you know any thing about these jinglers, Burley?” asked the captain, as the quartermaster took the wheel.

“Yes, sir: the chief engineer told me all about them,” replied Burley.

“Start her, then,” added the captain.

The quartermaster pulled the bell-handle on the wheel-frame. The hissing steam was heard below; the vessel jarred a little; and then she went ahead.

“The course, if you please?” inquired the quartermaster.

“Run for the Tritonia; but be sure you don’t run over her,” replied O’Hara. “She is astern of us now.”

“For the Tritonia, sir,” repeated Burley, as he threw the wheel over.

“We are actually moving!” said O’Hara, as he left the pilot-house, followed by Speers.

“I think there is no doubt of that,” replied the chief officer. “Have you any idea where we are going?”

“Not the least in the world; but, the nearer the port, the shorter our term of office. I wish we were bound to New York, or some other port on the other side of the ocean; for I should like a long cruise under present circumstances.”

“So should I; but I suppose we shall have only a day or two of it at the most.”

“We shall soon know where we are going; for I suppose Capt. Wainwright has been studying on that question since he sent us on board of the steamer.”

O’Hara then directed that the starboard watch, which had been on duty all night, should be relieved. It was two o’clock in the morning, and they were to be called at four. This was Tom Speers’s watch; but he was not inclined to turn in before the captain had reported to the Tritonia. Raymond was now in charge of the deck, and Tom had nothing to do. He went into the cabin, and to his surprise found that Miss Rodwood was there.

Tom touched his cap to her, and remarked that she was up late. There had been so much noise in the hold, that she could not sleep, and she had got up. The officer seated himself on a divan, and he could not keep his eyes off the fair passenger.

Miss Rodwood was walking up and down the cabin; and Tom could not help thinking again that she was a very pretty girl. She was very pale, and no doubt her recent experience on shipboard had been a severe trial to her nerves. Tom noticed that there was something very strange about her expression. He could not explain it; but he was confident that she was suffering from some cause. She did not seem to be in bodily pain. The motion of the vessel was tolerably easy compared with what it had been, so that she had no difficulty in walking on the cabin floor. The curtain partition was open on one side of the table, so that the lady extended her walk to the entire length of the apartment.

She kept quickening her pace till she was going almost at a run; but she moderated it as she approached the young officer. Tom watched her with increasing interest, as she appeared to grow more excited. He was sure now that something was the matter with her; and he felt that something ought to be done for her.

“The weather has been very favorable for our work,” said Tom, desiring to ascertain something more about the lady’s condition through the medium of conversation.

“I suppose it has,” she replied, with a nod, and continued her walk.

Tom saw that her eye looked a little wild. He decided that he ought to inform Mr. Frisbone of her condition, though he hardly understood enough of such matters to determine whether any thing was the matter with her.

While he was thinking of the case, he saw Miss Rodwood ascend a flight of stairs in the forward part of the cabin, leading to the hurricane-deck. He rushed out at the main entrance, and ran up the ladder. The lady was walking very fast towards the stern of the vessel. He concluded that she had come up to take the air; and she would certainly regard it as impertinent for him to follow her. He paused to consider what he should do.

He saw O’Hara planking the main deck from the waist forward. He would speak to him, and ask him to send for Mr. Frisbone. He descended to the main deck, and hailed the captain.

“I thought you had turned in, my boy,” said the captain lightly.

“No: I thought I would stay up till you have communicated with the Tritonia,” replied Tom. “Have you noticed any thing strange about the young lady on board, O’Hara?”

“Upon me sowl, I haven’t, except that she is as pretty a girl as I have set eyes on for seven years; and that’s saying a great dale,” answered the captain.

“Don’t joke, please, just now, O’Hara. I think something ails the young lady; and I’m afraid it’s something serious,” added Tom.

“You don’t mane it! What could ail a girl as pretty as she is?”

Tom took five minutes to tell what he had observed in the cabin.

“Is it crazy she is? Is that what you mane?” demanded O’Hara, not a little excited by the inference he drew from what his companion had said.

“You needn’t call it by any such name as that. I believe she is an invalid; and, after all she has been through during the last twenty-four hours, it wouldn’t be very strange if she were a little out of her head. I don’t like to lose sight of her. There she is, walking up and down the poop-deck as though she were running a race with her own shadow. Will you send one of the watch down to tell Mr. Frisbone how it is with her, or ask him to come on deck without saying what is wanted?”

“Troth, I’ll do so myself!” replied the captain, hurrying down through the engine-room.

He had hardly disappeared before Miss Rodwood started to run with all her might towards the stern of the steamer. Tom Speers leaped up the ladder to the hurricane-deck in season to see her spring over the low railing into the sea.

“Man overboard! man overboard! Stop her!” cried Tom at the top of his lungs; and they were not feeble lungs.

He cut loose the life-buoy which was lashed to the railing, and threw it overboard. But Tom was not content with this action: he kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his heavy pea-jacket and coat at the same moment, and plunged into the sea.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE VILLE D’ANGERS.

“HELP, help! Save me!” cried Miss Rodwood in the water, at some distance from Tom Speers.

As the girl had voluntarily thrown herself into the sea, Tom could not understand why she called for assistance. He had struck the water only a few seconds after she sprang overboard, and she could not be at any great distance from him. He was a strong swimmer, and the sea was very smooth. He heard the cry of the girl repeated as he came up with the life-buoy he had thrown overboard. Placing it before him, he swam with all the speed he could make, and reached the sufferer when she was quite exhausted by her efforts. She could swim a little herself, and had more confidence in the water than most persons who had never tried to do so.

“Don’t be afraid!” cried Tom, when he saw in the gloom of the night that she was still struggling to keep afloat.

In a moment more he reached her, and placed her hands upon the life-buoy, which was buoyant enough to support both of them.

“You are perfectly safe now,” said Tom, as he assured himself that she had a good hold upon the buoy.

She was too much exhausted to make any reply; and, whatever she had intended in the beginning, it was clear enough to Tom that she had no present desire to end her young life.

Capt. O’Hara had hardly entered the engine-room, when he heard the energetic cry of Tom Speers; and he realized in an instant that the worst his friend feared had come to pass.

“Man overboard! Stop her, Alexander!” he shouted to the chief engineer, who was watching the motions of the machinery.

The captain told the engineer to pass the word for Mr. Frisbone. He returned to the main deck; but Raymond, the second officer, had heard the startling cry. Already the third cutter was swung out, and all the watch on deck were in the boat. The officers and seamen had been thoroughly trained to this sort of service, and there had been no more delay than if they had been on board of the Tritonia. The crew lowered themselves into the water, as there was no difficulty in doing in a smooth sea. The falls were cast off, and the cutter shoved away from the steamer. The four oars were shipped, and the crew pulled with all their muscle.

“Pull directly astern of the vessel!” shouted O’Hara, who had gone upon the hurricane-deck, where he could see all that was done.

“Ay, ay, sir!” replied the quartermaster, who, as the highest in rank, had taken the place of the coxswain; for the boat-service of the steamer was not yet organized, and it was not the practice in the vessels of the squadron to wait for the regular officers and crew of the boats in any emergency.

“Call all hands, Mr. Raymond,” said the captain to the officer of the deck.

As there was not another seaman left on the deck of the Ville d’Angers, Raymond performed this duty himself.

“Man overboard! All hands on deck!” cried Raymond, as he passed into the cabin, and proceeded to open the doors of all the state-rooms occupied by the crew.

“What is the matter?” asked Mrs. Frisbone, coming out of her room.

“Man overboard, madam,” replied the second officer.

“Man overboard! Who is it?” asked the terrified lady.

“I’m sure I don’t know who it is, madam.”

As it was a “man overboard,” it did not occur to her that the unfortunate person could be her sister; but, fearing that the invalid might be alarmed at the unusual noise, she went to her room, and found she was not there.

“Where is my sister?” asked Mrs. Frisbone, very much startled by the discovery she had made.

“I don’t know, madam,” replied Raymond. “I saw her walking on the hurricane-deck a while ago. I will see if she is there now.”

The second officer left the cabin; and, finding the captain on the upper deck, he asked if he had seen Miss Rodwood.

“She is overboard,” replied the captain.

“My sister overboard!” exclaimed Mrs. Frisbone, who had followed Raymond from the cabin.

“I am sorry to say she is, madam,” added O’Hara; “but I think she will be saved. Mr. Speers leaped in after her only a few seconds after she went over.”

“Did she fall into the water?” demanded the excited lady.

“She jumped over the railing herself, madam,” answered O’Hara, as gently as he could utter the disagreeable words.

“Impossible! She could not have intended to end her life,” groaned the agonized sister.

The captain was explaining what had passed in the cabin before the catastrophe, when Mr. Frisbone joined them. He was astounded at the intelligence conveyed to him.

“Have you suspected that she was out of her head, Maggie?” he inquired.

“I have not seen a single indication of any thing of the kind,” she replied.

“I was on my way to the fire-room to call you, at the request of Mr. Speers, who was sure something was the matter with her, when I heard the cry of ‘Man overboard,’” added O’Hara.

“I wish he had called me,” said Mrs. Frisbone, with a shudder.

“Don’t be alarmed, madam: I am confident she will be saved,” continued the captain, looking out into the darkness astern of the ship.

“I am sure I did not suspect any thing of this kind. She seemed to be quite cheerful and happy when she retired,” mused Mrs. Frisbone.

“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted the boat’s crew, in the gloom, where they could not be seen.

“That means good news,” said the captain. “They have her in the boat by this time.”

The party on the deck listened for further sounds in the direction from which the cheers had come. In a few moments they heard the measured stroke of oars at some distance from the ship. Raymond had ordered up all the lanterns on board, which were taken to the gangway.

“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” shouted the crew of the third cutter, as the boat approached the steamer.

The party descended from the hurricane-deck, and gathered at the gangway, where the accommodation steps had been rigged by Raymond’s directions. The cutter came up to the platform; and Tom Speers, taking the shivering invalid in his arms, bore her up the steps, and into the cabin.

She was too cold, and exhausted by her struggles in the water, to speak. Tom laid her in the berth, and all retired but her sister. Her wet clothing was removed, and she was wrapped in blankets. In half an hour she was warm and comfortable. Her improved condition was reported by the Prince to the interested officers.

“What induced you to do such a thing?” asked Mrs. Frisbone. “Are you tired of living, Louise?”

“Far from it, Maggie! I don’t know what made me do it. I can’t explain it. I certainly had no intention of jumping overboard. An impulse came over me, and I could not resist it. I have hardly slept a wink for two nights, and I was very nervous.”

This was all the explanation the invalid could give of the rash act she had attempted. She insisted that the bath had done her good, and that she was no longer vexed by the morbid fancies which had troubled her since the collision. She expressed her gratitude in the strongest terms to the young gentleman who had gone to her assistance; and she was sure she should have drowned without his aid, for she felt that she was sinking when he brought the life-buoy to her.

Mrs. Frisbone would not leave her again that night, though the invalid declared that she should go to sleep at once; and she did as soon as the explanations were finished. In the mean time Tom Speers had gone to his state-room, and changed his wet clothes for dry ones, and was no worse for his bath.

“Mr. Speers, you have laid me and my wife under a load of obligation that I shall never feel like getting rid of,” said the Prince, as the young hero came out of his room. “I like that girl as though she was my own daughter; and you have done more for me than any living man could do, unless it was to save my wife from drowning in the same way.”

“I am sorry you feel that way about it, sir,” replied Tom, laughing; “for I don’t like to have anybody feel that he owes me too much.”

“You are more than ten times the feller I supposed you was, Mr. Speers; and I have heard a good deal about you within the last week or two.”

“What have you heard about me, sir?” asked Tom curiously.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” answered the Prince. “I must go and look out for the firemen, for they are very green in their new duties, and I’m afraid they will catch cold when the watch is shifted: it is just like boys to go on deck to cool off when they leave the fire-room.”

Mr. Frisbone disappeared in the engine-room, and Tom went forward. He had a long talk with O’Hara about the adventure of the night, in which the captain did not spare the praise he felt that the bold fellow deserved.

“Upon my sowl, the Prince would make you a rich man if he could; but, by the powers, you have got ahead of him, and it’ll be no use. You are richer than he is, and he can’t do any thing for you in that way.”

“I hope not; for I should feel insulted if a man offered me money for that sort of service,” replied the high-toned young officer. “I feel as much at home in the water as I do on this deck; and, if I saw anybody in the water, I couldn’t help going in after him, if he needed help.”

“That’s the ginerous nature you have, my boy! It’s a wonder you wasn’t born in ould Ireland or Italy.”

“The Tritonia is close aboard of us,” said the officer of the deck, touching his cap to the captain.

“I see she is: slow down, if you please, Mr. Raymond,” replied O’Hara. “We shall soon know now to what port we are bound.”

“I think I can go to sleep when I know that,” added Tom.

The Tritonia had made a long tack in standing off and on; and, when she was at the greatest distance from the Ville d’Angers, the wind had died out. She was rolling in the long swells with all sail set, but making no progress through the water. The Ville d’Angers ran across her wake, and within hailing distance of her.

“On board of the steamer!” called the officer of the deck.

“On board the Tritonia!” replied Raymond, prompted by the captain.

“The captain desires Mr. O’Hara to report in person,” added the officer of the schooner.

“All ready with the third cutter,” said the captain.

The boat was lowered into the water, and pulled off with O’Hara on board. In a few moments he was on the quarter-deck of the Tritonia. Capt. Wainwright had been called when the steamer was made out by the watch, and he immediately came on deck.

O’Hara reported in full concerning his action since he had taken possession of the steamer. He declared that the Ville d’Angers was in good seaworthy condition in every respect. She was abundantly supplied with coal, water, and provisions.

“It seems very remarkable that we should pick up Mr. Frisbone and his wife in a disabled vessel,” said Capt. Wainwright, when O’Hara had finished his report, which closed with the catastrophe of Miss Rodwood. “It would perhaps have been better if the American Prince had happened to come to the relief of the Ville d’Angers.”

“But better the Tritonia than neither,” added O’Hara.

“There would have been a certain fitness in the American Prince saving her former owner from the perils of the sea.”

“Indade there would!” exclaimed the captain of the steamer.

“But I suppose you want your orders; and I confess that I have been in a great deal of doubt. Professor Primback is so much incensed against me, that he won’t speak to me. I have asked his advice in regard to what to do; but he will not say any thing. He says I am in the attitude of rebellion against his authority. He insists that I shall call back the students I have sent away, and let the steamer go to the bottom, if that was to be her fate. Mr. Marline thinks I had better send her to the nearest port, which would be Cadiz.”

“That would be a sensible way to dispose of her,” interposed O’Hara, who was in favor of an independent cruise.

“Then I find I differ from all others. I am neither in favor of sending her to Cadiz, or of letting her go to the bottom,” added the captain of the Tritonia decidedly. “And, as I am to be responsible for my action, I shall follow my own plan. Mr. Primback annoys me very much, and I wish to put an end to this state of things as soon as possible.”

“You did not state your plan, captain,” suggested O’Hara nervously; for the independent cruise seemed to be no longer probable.

“I worked over the dead reckoning last night, after the calm settled down upon us; and I make it out that the Josephine cannot be more than forty or fifty miles to the southward of us. She must have laid her course sooner than we did, or we should not have lost sight of her in the night.”

“The American Prince must have sailed some time in the evening, if she was not delayed by the storm; and she may have overhauled the Josephine before this time.”

“Possibly; but the two vessels got so much off their course during the blow, that I hardly expect to see the Prince till we reach Funchal,” replied Capt. Wainwright. “All I care for is to get the vice-principal on board again; and then he can settle all disputed questions, and order the Ville d’Angers to Funchal or to Cadiz, as he pleases; and I shall be relieved of all responsibility.”

“I see,” said O’Hara; but he did not see what he wished to see.

“The Josephine must be becalmed, as we are, within fifty miles of us; and, as the weather is clear now, we shall be likely to see her,” continued the captain. “So, Mr. O’Hara, you will range your steamer ahead of the Tritonia, and take on board our best hemp cable. In other words, you will take the schooner in tow. When you have made fast our line, you will make your course south south-west, and run under full steam.”

“South south-west, under full steam,” repeated O’Hara, not at all pleased with the prospect; for he did not like the idea of having the Ville d’Angers changed into a tow-boat, as he contemptuously expressed it afterwards.

“It is now nearly eight bells in the morning,” continued Wainwright. “You will take the course given you; and if by meridian we don’t see any thing of the Josephine, I shall be ready to give you new orders.”

O’Hara returned to his boat, and was pulled to the steamer. She went on, and took a position ahead of the schooner, and as near as it was safe to lie. The second cutter carried the tow-line to her stern, and the end was hauled on board. It was made fast under the direction of Mr. Rimmer, for there were no proper bitts for the purpose.

“Are you all ready?” shouted the captain of the Tritonia.

“All ready, sir,” replied O’Hara, when the hawser had been secured.

“Then go ahead,” responded Capt. Wainwright.

The bells in the engine-room sounded; and in a few minutes the Ville d’Angers was going ahead at full speed, towing the Tritonia in the direction indicated by the captain of the latter.

Mr. Frisbone was informed of the use to be made of the steamer; but he offered no objection. He had heard that Madeira was a good place for invalids; and very likely his wife’s sister would do as well as, if not better than, at Malaga so late in the season. He was as willing to go to Funchal as to Spain. He staid in the fire-room till six o’clock, when he had thoroughly trained both watches of firemen in their duties.

During the forenoon Tom Speers saw Miss Rodwood for the first time since the stirring event of the early morning. She expressed her gratitude to him in the warmest terms, and Tom thought she was prettier than ever.

“You bear a name which has been familiar to me for some years, Miss Rodwood,” said Tom, trying to turn the conversation from his own gallant deed. “Judge Rodwood was my uncle’s most intimate friend, but I have no acquaintance with his family; and possibly you are his daughter.”

“I am not his daughter: he has no children. Judge Rodwood is my uncle; and he is a very intimate friend of Mr. Frisbone.”

“Yes; and he was very anxious to find you, young man,” said the Prince, who joined the party in the cabin at this moment.

“He was more anxious to find me than I was to have him find me,” replied Tom, laughing.

“Your uncle has left you a big fortune, and appointed the judge your guardian. Didn’t you get a despatch and some letters from him?” asked the Prince.

“I received a despatch and a letter from him,” replied Tom.

“Then, why under the sun didn’t you answer it, or go to London at once?” demanded the Prince, who supposed he had not received any thing from the judge.

Tom honestly explained why he had not opened the letter.

“If you have any influence with Judge Rodwood, I hope you will use it to induce him to allow me to remain in the academy squadron,” continued Tom.

“I certainly will; for I believe it is the best institution in the world,” replied the Prince heartily.

“Sail on the starboard bow!” shouted the lookout in the fore-top of the Tritonia, loudly enough to be heard on board of the steamer.

This announcement put an end to the conversation, for all were anxious to know whether or not the sail was the Josephine. All the glasses on board were pointed at the white spot on the ocean in the distance. A gentle breeze was blowing from the south-east, and the vessel had all sail set; but she was too far off for the officers of the steamer to determine what she was.

“On board the Ville d’Angers!” shouted the officer of the deck on the Tritonia.

Raymond answered the hail; and the order came from Capt. Wainwright, to head the steamer to the south-west. This course was directly towards the distant sail. At six bells in the forenoon watch, all hands were assured that the sail was the Josephine. Wainwright ordered three guns to be fired on board of the steamer, to attract the attention of her people; for the wind was freshening, and the chase was likely to be prolonged. Mr. Frisbone, who had fired the guns which answered as signals of distress, attended to this duty, though the students were very anxious to assist, especially in pulling the lock-string.

The signals were heard on board of the Josephine; and she came about, and stood towards the steamer and her tow. In half an hour the vessels were within hailing distance.

“Steamer ahoy!” shouted Robinson, the officer of the deck on board of the Josephine.

“On board of the Josephine!” replied Raymond.

“What steamer is that?”

“The Ville d’Angers, towing the Tritonia.”

While this conversation was going on, the crew of the Josephine were getting out the second cutter; and, when it was lowered into the water, Mr. Pelham stepped on board. The boat pulled for the Tritonia, which had been cast off by the steamer, and had heaved to under the lee of the Josephine. The vice-principal boarded her, and was received by Capt. Wainwright, cap in hand.

“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Pelham,” said Wainwright, as they shook hands.

“I did not expect to see the Tritonia again till she arrived at Funchal,” replied the vice-principal.

“I am glad you have come, sir,” said Professor Primback in a severe tone. “I am sorry to be obliged to charge Wainwright with gross insubordination during your absence, Mr. Pelham.”

“I will hear your complaint at another time, Mr. Primback,” replied the vice-principal.

“I think it would be more proper to hear it at the present time,” added the professor. “I have suspended Wainwright and Scott from duty; and I wish to know whether or not my authority is to be sustained. No attention whatever has been paid to my directions. If you have any orders to give, you will please regard Greenwood as the captain, and Alexander as the first lieutenant.”

The professor then retired to the cabin.

CHAPTER IX.
THE NEW SHIP’S COMPANY.

THE vice-principal was very much perplexed at the condition of things he found on board of the Tritonia. He was greatly annoyed that his involuntary absence had raised a tempest in the vessel. He was astonished to find the schooner in tow of the steamer; and, before he made any inquiries into the case of discipline, he listened to the report of the captain of the events which had transpired since the consorts parted company.

Before Wainwright had proceeded far with his account, the cutter which had conveyed Mr. Pelham on board returned with Mr. Fluxion. The two vice-principals heard the story, and then retired to the cabin to consult together in regard to it. Mr. Primback was called; and his charges against the captain and the second lieutenant were heard.

Wainwright and Scott were questioned in the presence of the professor; and, when they had retired, the charge against Scott was declared to be frivolous, as any sailor could see that it was.

“I think if you will read the regulations, Professor Primback, you will see that you had no authority to suspend the captain or the second lieutenant,” said Mr. Fluxion, who was disgusted with the conduct of the instructor.

“I admit that the regulations give me no authority over the officers of the vessel in purely nautical matters,” replied Mr. Primback. “I take pride and pleasure in acknowledging that I know nothing about a ship or its management.”

“It would be better if you knew enough about nautical matters to understand the duty of the officers,” added the senior vice-principal. “It is very unpleasant for me to decide against you; but the case is so very plain, that I can’t do otherwise.”

“I think you have not fully examined the premises, Mr. Fluxion,” continued the professor, nettled at the obvious displeasure of the senior authority. “The scholastic department is under my direction in the absence of the junior vice-principal.”

“That is admitted.”

“But the captain, a mere boy, may send away one-half of the students, and then require the other half to be on duty all the time in the management of the vessel. In other words, he may practically abolish the scholastic department,” added Mr. Primback triumphantly, for he believed he had made out a very strong case.

“And the head of the scholastic department takes pride in being so ignorant of nautical affairs as to be incapable of judging whether or not the captain is justified in sending away one-half of his ship’s company, and requiring the other half to do duty on board of his own vessel,” answered Mr. Fluxion, with some excitement in his manner.

“Then, as the acting principal, I may be carted all over the ocean at the pleasure of this boy!” exclaimed the professor. “I may not even protest when he chooses to depart from the course of any boyish enterprise that happens to excite his imagination.”

“That is precisely the situation,” replied the senior vice-principal, with a smile. “The boy will be held responsible for the management of the vessel; and, if he depart from the prescribed course without sufficient reason for doing so, he would be punished for it. If he took the vessel out upon such a boyish expedition as you describe, he would certainly lose his place as commander.”

“But the boy is placed over the man: I am ignored, though I am old enough to be the boy’s father,” protested the professor.

“The boy has no authority over you, any more than you have over him, in nautical matters. The sailor is placed over the landsman. But you forget, Mr. Primback, that this is an exceptional case. The accidental absence of the vice-principal in charge caused all the difficulty. This is a thing that is not likely to happen again. A sudden squall rendered it impossible for him to return to his vessel.”

“Am I to understand that you approve the conduct of this boy, sir?” demanded the professor.

“If he had obeyed your orders, he might have been compelled to abandon Mr. Frisbone and the two ladies to their fate, to say nothing of the duty of saving the steamer. I do approve the conduct of Capt. Wainwright; and I think he deserves nothing but praise and commendation for what he has done. I am sure the principal will take the same view of the matter,” replied Mr. Fluxion.

“Then I am to be snubbed by this boy?”

“I understand you to say that he has been courteous and polite to you.”

“I have no fault to find with his manner; only with his refusal to obey me.”

“Then I think nothing more need be said about the matter. If you had confined yourself to your own duties, there would have been no trouble.”

“I consider myself censured by your decision; and I desire to resign my position as an instructor in this institution,” added Mr. Primback, with all the dignity he could assume.

“I have nothing to do with your resignation: that should go to the principal,” replied Mr. Fluxion, who hoped to see a more reasonable person in his place, and one who knew a brace from a bobstay.

The professor disappeared in his state-room, and related his grievances to Dr. Crumples, who had no sympathy at all with him.

The more interesting question to be settled was the destination of the Ville d’Angers. The vice-principals talked it over for some time, without coming to a conclusion, and then decided to visit the steamer to confer with Mr. Frisbone. The Prince gave them a hearty greeting; but he had no opinion in regard to the disposal of the vessel. There was no law, so far as they were aware, that required the vessel to be taken to one port rather than another; and it was finally decided that the voyage to Madeira should be continued, the steamer accompanying the two schooners.

But Mr. Fluxion was not satisfied with the present arrangement in regard to the ship’s company of the Ville d’Angers, since it was composed of one-half of the Tritonia’s people, while the Josephine remained fully manned. He thought the burden of taking the steamer into port should be more equally divided between the two vessels. Mr. Pelham doubted whether it was expedient to mix the two crews; but his senior overruled his objection, and a new list was made out for the ship’s company of the extra vessel. The names were shown to O’Hara by the vice-principals.

“I suppose you don’t object,” said Mr. Fluxion, with a rather sarcastic smile; for he was not much inclined to consult the wishes of the young gentlemen when he detailed them for duty outside of their own craft. “You will have more officers, and a larger crew for the steamer.”

“Upon me sowl, I do object!” exclaimed O’Hara, with no little excitement in his manner, after he had looked at the list of officers.

“Well, what’s the matter now?” demanded the senior vice-principal, with something like a frown on his bronzed face.

“I like the ship’s company we have now a great dale better,” replied O’Hara decidedly.

“It would be quite as respectful if you should pronounce the English language properly when you address your superior officers,” added Mr. Fluxion, who was by far the severest disciplinarian in the squadron.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said O’Hara, touching his cap, and taking it off while he bowed low to the senior officer present. “I did not intend to be disrespectful.”

“Very well, Mr. O’Hara: you have shown that you can speak English as well as French, Italian, and Irish,” replied Mr. Fluxion, his face relaxing into a smile again. “What objection have you to the list in your hand?”

“I like the present detail better, sir.”

“That is no answer to my question. What objection have you?”

“The first is, that this reduces Mr. Speers to the rank of second officer, when he has done all the hard work of putting the steamer into sailing-trim as first.”

“If an officer from the Tritonia has the command, the Josephine should have the second place on board,” added Mr. Fluxion.

“I think that is quite fair,” interposed Mr. Pelham.

“I think so myself, if the Josephine is to take part in getting the vessel into port,” continued O’Hara, who could not help recognizing the fairness of the senior’s decision. “But my second objection is to mixing the two crews at all.”

“I see no objection to that,” said Mr. Fluxion.

“I’m afraid they won’t agree together,” suggested O’Hara, shaking his head.

“If there is any danger of a disagreement of this kind, it is time the two crews were mingled, so that they may learn a new lesson in discipline.”

“There has always been a good deal of rivalry and some hard feeling among the different vessels of the squadron, sir,” continued O’Hara; and it is probable that the boy knew more about this matter than the man, and the junior vice-principal, who had been a student in the institution, understood it better than the senior.

“I can conceive of no disagreement among officers and seamen while on duty. You are to be in command of the steamer, Mr. O’Hara; and if any one from the Josephine refuses to obey your orders, or makes trouble on board, you will promptly report it to me; and, if the offender is an officer, he shall take the lowest number in the ship,” replied the stern disciplinarian, with the feeling, that, if there were any such insubordination in the vessel, he would like to get hold of it.

“But the vessels may be separated again, as they have been before,” suggested O’Hara, who was certainly very much opposed to having any of the Josephine’s officers under his command.

“We are not likely to be separated again: we have had one hard storm, and we are not in much danger of having another before we get to Madeira, which will be in three or four days at the most.”

“I will do the best I can, sir,” replied O’Hara, touching his cap to the senior.

“I don’t like to have the students serve as firemen,” continued Mr. Fluxion. “Possibly I may be able to find a crew of firemen for the steamer.”

“How will it be possible for you to find a crew of firemen here in mid-ocean?” asked Mr. Pelham, smiling with incredulity.

“The Josephine has not been without an adventure any more than the Tritonia,” replied Mr. Fluxion. “Yesterday morning at daylight we picked up a boat in which were six men. They are all Frenchmen and Italians; and say their steamer was sunk in a collision with another vessel in the night. Most of the crew and passengers got on board of the other vessel, and they took a boat to go to her; but it was upset in the heavy sea. They righted the boat, and all but one of them succeeded in getting into it again; but the other vessel was out of sight in the fog then, and they were unable to find her. This is the story they tell; and I have no doubt it is true. Very likely they belonged to the Ville d’Angers.”

“If they did, how was it possible for you to have picked them up?” asked Mr. Pelham.

“The steamer could not have been a great way from either of us when you heard the guns, though the Tritonia, as we may see by comparing the reckoning, was considerably to the northward of the Josephine,” added Mr. Fluxion.

“But where are these men? They have recognized the steamer by this time, if she was the one in which they were employed.”

“Probably they have not seen her yet,” replied Mr. Fluxion, laughing. “They slept all day yesterday; and, as I did not see them on deck when I left the schooner, I suppose they are sleeping off another day. They asked for wine, and insisted that they must have it; and they have slept all the time since I told them we had none on board.”

The change was announced to the ship’s company of the Ville d’Angers; and the half-dozen students who were required to return to the Tritonia were indignant and dissatisfied; but none of them dared say any thing in the presence of Mr. Fluxion. They were ordered into the Josephine’s boat, and left on board of their own vessel. The cutter then proceeded to the Josephine, and both vice-principals boarded her. O’Hara went with them.

It was found that the men picked up in the boat were still asleep under the top-gallant forecastle, where quarters had been fixed up for them. Mr. Shakings, the adult boatswain of the Josephine, was directed to call them; and they soon presented themselves in the waist, where the vice-principals were waiting to examine them in regard to their vessel. They were a very hard-looking set of men; and it was evident enough that severe discipline would be required to keep them in order.

As soon as they came on deck, they discovered the Ville d’Angers, which lay astern of the Josephine. They threw up their hands in astonishment when they saw her, and uttered a great many wild exclamations.

“What was the name of your steamer?” asked Mr. Fluxion in French.

“The Ville d’Angers,” replied one of them; and then they all indulged in another volley of exclamations.

“Is that the Ville d’Angers?” inquired the senior, pointing at the steamer.

“It is not possible!” shouted several of them at once. “She was sunk. A big hole was cut in her bow; and the water was pouring into her when we left her.”

They all talked together, and it was almost impossible to understand them. Some spoke in French, and others in Italian; for it appeared that there was a scarcity of Frenchmen, so many of them had gone into the army. The most intelligent one was an Italian; and he was conducted to the quarter-deck, where O’Hara was instructed to question him. But all the information needed had been obtained from Mr. Frisbone.

This man said his name was Alfonzo. He was asked if he and his companions were willing to work as firemen of the steamer on the trip to Funchal, if they received good wages. Then the fellow put on a cunning look, and it was plain that he was disposed to drive a sharp bargain. He thought a moment; and the interpreter saw that he was studying up some hard terms, and was going to ask for something which he regarded as exorbitant.

“We worked on the Ville d’Angers six days for which we have received no pay,” said Alfonzo, with a cunning leer on his face. “Pay us for this time, and we will work on the steamer.”

“What were your wages on the steamer?” asked O’Hara.

The fellow hesitated a moment, and then said three francs a day. O’Hara reported the substance of Alfonzo’s reply to the senior, at the same time expressing his belief that the Italian was lying, and that the firemen—for such they all were—had not been paid more than two francs, or at most not more than two and a half.

“Sixty cents a day is little enough for men who work in the fire-room of a ship at sea; and they shall have their own price,” replied Mr. Fluxion.

O’Hara informed Alfonzo that his terms were acceded to, and he was told to settle the matter with his companions. He looked quite sad, instead of rejoicing that his terms had been accepted: he was sorry that he had not asked more. The others assented.

“This young gentleman is the captain of the steamer,” said Mr. Fluxion, pointing to O’Hara.

The firemen all laughed as they surveyed him from head to foot; and possibly they thought they should have an easy time of it on board of the Ville d’Angers, if she was to be managed by boys like those of the Tritonia. They were ordered into the boat, and were put on board of the steamer.

“Mr. Speers particularly desires that the studies may be continued while we are on board of the steamer,” said O’Hara, when the men had been sent away.

“Speers!” exclaimed the senior vice-principal, evidently astonished at the suggestion. “He is the young man who went from the steerage up to first master, and whose guardian is looking for him, I believe.”

“The same, sir.”

“He shall be gratified; and Capt. Fairfield, our extra instructor, who is the most versatile scholar in the squadron, shall be transferred to the Ville d’Angers,” added Mr. Fluxion.

“Capt. Fairfield!” exclaimed O’Hara, afraid the instructor might be a sailor, and be placed over his head as an acting vice-principal; for, like most young men, he preferred to have the supreme command of the vessel.

“He is a West-Pointer, and knows no more about a ship than a marine; though he is perfect in the theory of navigation,” Mr. Fluxion explained. “You will divide your authority with no one, Mr. O’Hara. I shall send boatswain Shakings of this vessel with you to look out for your rigging.”

“What are my orders in case the vessels should be separated?” asked the young commander of the Ville d’Angers, though he was a year older than a young man we knew who had the full command of a thousand-ton ship; or another who brought his bark safely into port through the worst storm of the season.

“I suppose you would prefer to have your steamer separated from the rest of the squadron,” added Mr. Fluxion, laughing.

“I beg your pardon, sir; but I might have run for any port in the world when I had the steamer all to myself: but, instead of that, I went to look for the Tritonia,” replied the captain, a little hurt by the remark of the senior.

“You did exceedingly well, Capt. O’Hara; and I may add that I have full confidence in you. I know of no officer in the squadron whom I should prefer for the service to which Capt. Wainwright first appointed you; and I commend him for the good judgment he exercised in his selection. I only wonder that he did not appoint Scott, who is a prime favorite of his.”

“I thank you, sir,” replied O’Hara, touching his cap. “But Mr. Scott is a good officer, sir.”

“As good as any in the squadron, but not the best for an independent command,” added the senior.

By this time the cutter had returned; and the Josephine’s portion of the crew of the Ville d’Angers were sent on board. The Tritonia’s part were already on duty. As soon as the boat was hoisted up at the davits, the two schooners filled away. A six-knot breeze was blowing, and they were soon at a considerable distance from the steamer; for O’Hara had been instructed to station his ship’s company under the new arrangement before he got under way.

He immediately called all hands, now consisting of six officers and twenty-four seamen beside himself. As he had twelve hands in each watch, he divided each into quarter-watches. He appointed four quartermasters, who were to have charge of the wheel under the officer of the deck, and a few petty officers for other duties. The state-rooms were assigned to the students; and the regulations of the academy squadron declared to be in full force on board, so far as they were applicable.

“It is now four bells in the afternoon watch; and the second part of the starboard watch has the deck,” said Capt. O’Hara, when all the arrangements had been completed. “The officers and seamen will take their stations.”

Raymond was the officer of the second part of the watch indicated; and he repaired to the pilot-house to assume his duties. The quartermaster of the second part was there, with a seaman to assist at the wheel.

“I don’t like this arrangement,” said Gregory, the first officer, who had been fourth lieutenant of the Josephine, as he followed the captain forward.

“I am sorry you don’t, Mr. Gregory,” replied O’Hara, rather coldly.

“I don’t think there is any need of quarter-watches in this steamer,” added the first officer, with more emphasis than before.

“I don’t think so either,” chimed in Clinch, the third master of the Josephine.

“That shows that we differ in opinion a little taste,” returned O’Hara with a smile. “You may start her now, Mr. Raymond,” continued the captain, when he came to the pilot-house.