“Mr. Stoute, this is a question of discipline; and higher considerations than those of merely personal comfort and security should be brought to bear upon it. It would be impossible for me to impart to my pupils a knowledge of that noblest language of the historic past, if they are to be permitted to leave the class when they choose to do so. I shall refer this matter to Mr. Lowington for his decision. He must suspend the captain, or he must suspend me. If I cannot control my scholars, I will not attempt to instruct. It would be preposterous to do so. I shall take a boat, and go on board of the ship at once, for this difficulty admits of no delay.”
Professor Hamblin, in high dudgeon, took his hat, and went up the ladder. Mr. Stoute shook his fat sides, laughing at the ire of his distinguished and learned associate. He was desirous of seeing his companion start for the ship in the approaching tempest, and he followed him on deck.
“Captain Kendall,” said Mr. Hamblin, sternly, as he walked up to the young commander, heedless of the rattling thunder and the flashing lightning.
Paul bowed politely, and looked at the professor, intimating that he was ready to hear him. It was noticeable that Mr. Hamblin always called the commander “Mr. Kendall” when he was in the steerage attending to his studies, and “Captain Kendall” on deck, or in the cabin. The professor intended to indicate, by this choice of terms, that he was captain during school hours.
“Captain Kendall, I desire a boat immediately,” added Mr. Hamblin.
“A boat!” exclaimed Paul, astonished at the request at such a time.
“I said a boat, Captain Kendall. I purpose to refer the matter of your disobedience to Mr. Lowington without any unnecessary delay.”
“But, Mr. Hamblin, there is a squall coming up.”
“I am aware of that; but I demand the boat.”
“It would be dangerous, sir. The boat would certainly be swamped.”
“I will take the responsibility of that.”
“I should be very happy to furnish the boat, sir; but I cannot expose a crew to such a storm as will soon break upon us,” replied Paul.
“You refuse—do you?” demanded the professor, angrily.
“I feel compelled to do so, sir.”
“In my hearing, Mr. Lowington instructed you to furnish the professors with a boat at any time when they desired it.”
“I will furnish the boat, sir; but I will not expose the crew to such peril. I will hoist out the third cutter for you, sir, if you wish.”
“I demand a sufficient number of sailors to row the boat.”
“You will pardon me, sir; but I will not send any seamen into a boat until the squall is over. It is unreasonable to ask such a thing.”
“Unreasonable, sir! How dare you tell me I am unreasonable?” stormed the professor, stamping his foot upon the deck.
Paul bowed, but made no reply. He was placed in a very disagreeable and painful position. He knew that it was madness to send a boat off while the squall was impending. Mr. Hamblin was wrathy. The long billows were black and smooth, and the sails hung idly on the gaffs. There was no danger then, and the learned gentleman had been so fortunate as never to see any of the perils of the ocean. His passage to England in the steamer had been a remarkably pleasant one. Nothing like a gale, or even a high wind, had interrupted its serenity, and the professor had imbibed a certain contempt for the perils of the ocean. He had never seen them; and, if mere boys were able to work such a vessel as the Josephine, a learned man like himself need not tremble in their presence.
CHAPTER II.
A SQUALL IN THE GERMAN OCEAN.
“Mr. Cleats!” said Professor Hamblin, in the most sternly solemn and impressive manner, as he rushed up to the adult boatswain of the Josephine.
“Here, sir!” responded the old salt, touching his cap as politely as though the learned gentleman had been an admiral.
“I want a boat, sir,” continued the professor, fiercely.
“Your honor must apply to the captain,” answered Cleats, touching his cap again.
“I have applied to him, and he has refused me. I desire you to take a boat, and row me to the ship. The carpenter can assist you.”
“Bless your honor’s heart, I can’t go without the captain’s orders,” added Cleats, opening his eyes as wide as though he had been invited to head a mutiny.
“I will protect you from any harm, Mr. Cleats. I will represent the matter to Mr. Lowington.”
“I never do anything, your honor, without orders from the captain. It would be mutiny for me to do so, and I should be hung at the fore yard-arm.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Cleats! Will you listen to reason?”
“Sartain, your honor. I always listen to reason; but there isn’t any reason in leaving the ship without the captain’s orders.”
“But the captain says I may have the boat; and I only want a couple of men to row it.”
“I will pull the boat with the greatest pleasure, sir, if the captain orders me to do so; or the first lieutenant, for that matter, sir. I always obey orders, sir, if it sinks the ship.”
“I have a complaint to make against the captain for disobedience of my orders, and he will not permit me to go on board of the ship to prefer the charge.”
“Whew!” whistled the boatswain, as long and loud as though the sound had been made with his own shrill pipe. “A complaint against the captain! I beg your honor’s pardon, but that can’t be. Nobody can have a complaint against the captain.”
“I do not wish to argue the matter with you. Will you do what I ask, or not?”
“I beg your honor’s pardon, but I will not,” replied Cleats, who seemed to have no doubt in regard to his own course, whatever rupture there might be among the powers above him.
“That’s enough,” growled Mr. Hamblin, turning on his heel.
“There’s a big squall coming, your honor,” added Cleats, loud enough for the professor to hear him. “The boat wouldn’t live a minute in it.”
“I am not afraid of the squall,” replied the learned gentleman, pausing. “Will you row the boat?”
“No, sir; I would rather not,” answered Cleats, shaking his head.
At this moment a heavy roaring, rushing sound came over the sea from the direction of the land. The water was covered with a dense white mist. The sound increased in volume till it vied with the booming thunder, and the surface of the sea was lashed into a snowy foam by the coming tempest.
“Down with the jib and mainsail!” shouted Captain Kendall, sharply.
“Stand by the mainsail halyards!” said Terrill, through his speaking trumpet. “Man the jib halyards and downhaul!”
“All ready, sir,” replied the second lieutenant, forward; for all hands were still at their stations, in anticipation of the emergency.
“All ready, sir,” added the fourth lieutenant, whose place was on the quarter-deck.
“Let go the mainsail halyards!” added the first lieutenant; and the order was repeated by the fourth lieutenant. “Down with it, lively!”
The heavy sail, assisted by twenty pairs of willing and eager hands, rattled down in an instant, and was speedily secured.
“Let go the jib halyards! Haul down!” said the second lieutenant, on