TROUBLE ON BOARD THE JOSEPHINE.

Almost every one on board of the Josephine had a letter, and some had two or three.  Paul had one from Grace, dated at Paris, in which she expressed a hope that, as she was to travel a few months with her father, she might see him in some of her wanderings.  The young captain hoped so too, and he read the letter a second time.  Probably he read it a third time after he went to his state-room, and a fourth before he retired; for boys of his age are apt to be enthusiastic in this direction.

Professor Stoute sat in the cabin.  He had been all over Antwerp, and had walked a larger part of the distance than a man of his obesity could well endure in a warm day.  Though he was very tired, he was very good-natured; indeed, thus far, nothing had ever occurred to disturb his equanimity.  He was exceedingly popular with the boys, and if he had fallen overboard, every one of them would have jumped in after him.  No one ever thought of disobeying him, and consequently he never had any trouble.

While he sat there fanning himself with a newspaper, Mr. Hamblin came out of his state-room with the huge envelope he had received in his hand.  The learned gentleman looked perplexed; in fact, he always wore an anxious expression, as though he were in constant fear that somebody would infringe upon his dignity, or that some of the boys did not believe he was the wisest man since the days of Solomon.  He always walked just so; he always sat just so; he always moved just so.  He never was guilty of using a doubtful expression.  He was stern, rigid, and precise, and from the beginning all the boys had disliked him; but since he had behaved so unreasonably in the squall, they could hardly endure him.

The lean professor walked up to the fat professor, and took a stand before him.  He had removed the letter from the formidable envelope, and held it unfolded in his hand.  He looked at the letter, and then at Mr. Stoute.  The fat professor laughed, but the lean professor frowned.  The jolly one knew just what the precise one wanted, but he waited patiently for the exordium.

“Mr. Stoute, may I trouble you?” he began, after he had put himself in proper position.

“Certainly, sir,” replied the fat gentleman.

“If this letter had been written in Greek or Latin, I could have read it,” continued Mr. Hamblin, glancing at the sheet.

“Precisely so; if it had been written in Greek or Latin I could not read it,” laughed Mr. Stoute.

“My French, as I have had occasion to acknowledge to you with deep humiliation, has been neglected for more important studies.  This letter appears to have been written by some distinguished person, but unfortunately he has chosen to indite it in French.”

“In a word, you wish me to read it to you.”

“That is what I was about to request of you.  May I ask you to retire with me to our state-room?” continued Professor Hamblin, glancing at the officers who were reading their letters in the cabin.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hamblin; you forget that I carry round with me two hundred and odd pounds of flesh, besides bone and muscle, and that I have been on my feet three hours.  I think, sir, if I knew this vessel was going to the bottom of the Scheldt this instant, I should go down with her rather than move.  Have me excused, I pray you, and have compassion on mine infirmities,” laughed Mr. Stoute.

Mr. Hamblin was vexed, but he gave the letter to his associate, who turned the sheet and glanced at the signature.

“Ah!” exclaimed he, looking at Mr. Hamblin.

“What is it?  Do me the favor to read it,” replied the learned gentleman, impatiently.

“It is from Monsieur Charles Rogier, the president of the council, and minister of foreign affairs,” added Professor Stoute.  “He is the man who organized the revolution of 1830, and the greatest man in Belgium, King Leopold excepted.”

“Is it possible!” ejaculated Mr. Hamblin, struggling to keep down the smile in which his vanity sought to manifest itself.  “What does he say?”

“He says that just as he was leaving Antwerp for Brussels, he heard that the very learned and distinguished Professor Hamblin was on board of a vessel at anchor in the river.”

“Does he say that?” asked the learned gentleman, who, knowing that Mr. Stoute had a horrid vein of humor running through his fat frame, had, perhaps, a suspicion that he was making fun at his expense.

“That is precisely what it says.”

“How should Mr. Rogier know me?” queried Mr. Hamblin.

“I was about to read his explanation on that point:  he says he heard of you through a friend who was in London a few weeks since.  He wished to see you and extend to you a welcome to the kingdom of Belgium; but the command of his royal master required him to leave Antwerp by the next train; and he was deprived of the pleasure of extending to you in person the expression of his distinguished consideration.  He hopes when you visit Brussels you will do him the honor to call upon him at the Palais de la Nation, Rue de la Soie.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the learned professor, prolonging the interjection, and trying to suppress the smile which had a sad tendency to overwhelm his dignity.

“You are fortunate, Mr. Hamblin,” added Mr. Stoute; “of course he will present you to King Leopold.”

“Possibly,” replied the Greek savant, stroking his chin, and frowning, to counteract the sinister influence of the smile he could not wholly overcome.

Mr. Hamblin took the letter and read the signature.  It was certainly “Charles Rogier,” with a flourish extensive enough for any great man.  From the letter he glanced at the fat professor, who, being always good-natured, was so now.  He could not get rid of a lingering suspicion that his undignified associate was imposing upon him.  It was a great misfortune that his own knowledge of French was so limited, and if it had not been so late, he would have gone on board of the ship to ask Professor Badois to translate the epistle to him.

Instead of doing this, he went to the record book of the Josephine, and ascertained that Duncan was marked among the highest in French.  Now Duncan was a very polite and respectful student, and Mr. Hamblin had a greater regard for him than for most of his companions.  Finding this promising young man on deck, he invited him to the sacred precincts of the professor’s state-room.  Duncan was even more polite and obliging than usual.  At the request of his present host, who did not offer any explanations, he wrote out a translation of the important letter.  Mr. Hamblin thanked him, and he retired.

There was no material difference between the translations of Mr. Stoute and Duncan, and the learned professor congratulated himself upon the distinction he had attained.  His fame as a savant had preceded him across the ocean.  The king’s chief minister courted his acquaintance.  This was the homage which greatness paid to learning, and Mr. Hamblin was willing to believe that it was a deserved tribute.  He soon worked himself into a flutter of excitement, in anticipation of being taken by the hand by the king’s chief minister, and he slept but little during the night, so absorbed was he in the contemplation of the distinguished honor which awaited him.

“Professor Hamblin is going to court,” said Duncan to his old friend the captain, when they met on deck after supper.

“To court whom?” laughed Paul.

“He has had an invitation to go to court to see the big bugs.  I translated a letter for him from the minister of foreign affairs; and I suppose he’s about the biggest toad in the Belgian puddle,” added Duncan.  “You won’t be able to touch him with a ten-foot pole after that.”

“We shall get along very well with him, if we only do our duty,” said Paul.

“The fellows are not very fond of him; and if he puts on any more airs, they won’t be able to stand it.”

“Why, what’s the matter, Duncan? asked Paul, anxiously, for generally everything had gone on so well on board of the Josephine, that he dreaded any trouble.

“O, nothing, nothing!” laughed Duncan; “only the fellows don’t like him.”

“Ben, there’s something up,” said Paul, earnestly.  “If the fellows think anything at all of me, they won’t make any trouble.  If I don’t complain of Mr. Hamblin, they needn’t.”

“I don’t find any fault with him myself,” protested Ben.  “I don’t like him, but I have always got along very well with him.”

“What did you mean by mentioning this matter to me, Ben?” asked Paul.

“Nothing; only I shouldn’t be surprised if the fellows were to haze the venerable patriarch a little in a quiet way.  They are all down upon him.”

“I am sorry for that.  I hope all the fellows will do their duty, and not get into any scrapes, replied Paul, very seriously.

“I am sorry, but I can’t say that I blame them much.”

“I shall blame them if they commit any act of disrespect,” said the captain, decidedly.  “I hope you will say what you can forward to keep the fellows from doing anything that would hurt Mr. Hamblin’s feelings.”

“What can I do?  The old fossil doesn’t treat the students like gentlemen; and if he behaves so, what can you expect of the fellows?  He is cross, crabbed, and tyrannical.”

“Have they just found it out?”

“No, but they were willing to bear it rather than make any trouble on board.  After what he did last Saturday, they are not disposed to be so patient; and I can’t blame them much.”

“What happened last Saturday was between Mr. Hamblin and me, and the students needn’t trouble themselves about that.”

“But the fellows all like you first rate, even the worst ones we have on board; and there are some pretty hard boys here,” laughed Duncan.

“If they like me, they will not get up a row.”

“I will take care that all of them know just how you feel,” said Duncan, concluding to end the conversation at this point, for the subject of these remarks had just come on deck.

The learned gentleman appeared to carry his head even higher, and to be more dignified, stiff, and reserved, than usual.  With an invitation in his pocket to visit the greatest statesman in Belgium, he felt like a very exalted personage; for not even Mr. Lowington had been so highly favored.  Mr. Hamblin was puffed up and swelled out by the honor the great man had done him, and as he walked up and down the deck, the students might have known by his air, if they had not been told of the fact, that greatness had suddenly been thrust upon him.

It presently occurred to him that the principal had not been informed of the distinguished consideration in which the government of Belgium regarded the Josephine’s senior instructor.  It was important that he should know it, for the fact would certainly elevate him in the estimation of the principal, and cause him to regret that in the recent difficulty he had not more fully sustained his notable professor.  Besides, he wished to make some arrangements which would permit him to visit the Palais de la Nation, and to dine with the minister, if he should be invited, as he had no doubt he should be.

With as much sternness on his wrinkled face as he could assume, he walked forward to demand a boat of Captain Kendall.  As he was passing in the waist, a coil of signal line dropped down from the gaff above, square upon the top of his hat, forcing it far down upon his head.  Mr. Hamblin immediately threw himself into an undignified passion.  When he had with some difficulty extricated his head from the linings of his hat, he looked up to see who had been guilty of this act of flagrant disrespect.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hamblin,” shouted Grimme, a seaman, whose legs were twined around the end of the gaff, while he was in the act of passing a signal halyard through an eye.

The captain had received orders from the principal to have the Josephine ready for the visit of a distinguished person on the following day, and Mr. Cleats was preparing to dress the rigging.

“You scoundrel!” roared Mr. Hamblin, gazing up at the unfortunate youth who had been the cause of his misfortune.

“Did it hurt you, sir?” asked Paul, stepping up to the professor.

“Was that done by your order, Mr. Kendall?” demanded the irate savant.

“No, sir; it was not,” replied Paul, blushing with indignation at such an insinuation.

“It is very singular that the rope should fall just at the moment I was passing,” added Mr. Hamblin, sourly, as he straightened out his crumpled tile.

“I am sorry it occurred, sir,” said Paul, who uttered no more than the literal truth.

Mr. Hamblin glanced around the deck at the students who were collected there.  They did not seem to be sorry; on the contrary, there was a look of diabolical satisfaction in the expression of most of them, and not a few were actually laughing.

“I demand the immediate punishment of the offender,” said Mr. Hamblin, irritated by this manifestation on the part of the students.

By this time Grimme had descended from his perilous perch, having completed the reeving of the halyard.  Without a moment’s delay, he hastened to the spot where the angry man stood, and touched his cap with the utmost deference.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hamblin.  I hope you will excuse me,” said Grimme, who really wore a very troubled look.

“You did it on purpose, you scoundrel!” growled the professor, savagely; for he could not fail to see the ill-suppressed chuckling of the students in the waist.

“No, sir!  I did not, sir!” protested Grimme.  “I had the end in my mouth, and was just going to drop the coil when I saw you.”

“And you did drop it when you saw me.”

“I did not mean to drop it then.  I was going to wait till you had passed; but my foot slipped, and, in catching hold of the gaff with my hand, I let go the coil.  If I hadn’t dropped it, I should have fallen myself,” replied Grimme, who seemed determined to make the explanation strong enough to meet the emergency.

“I don’t believe a word of it!  You meant to insult me!” exclaimed Mr. Hamblin, still goaded on to intemperate speech by the ill-concealed jeers of the students.  “Mr. Kendall, it is your duty to punish that insolent fellow.”

“I will inquire into the matter, sir.  If it appears that he did the act on purpose, he shall certainly be punished,” replied Paul, who, after his conversation with Duncan, could not help suspecting that this was the first step in the hazing process to which his friend had alluded.

“Inquire into it!” sneered Mr. Hamblin, with deep disgust.  “I complain of the boy:  that is enough.”

Paul did not think so; but he made no reply to the angry man, though he ordered the alleged culprit to the mainmast, which is the locality of the high court on shipboard.

“Mr. Kendall, I desire to have the gig, for the purpose of visiting the ship.”

“The gig, sir!” exclaimed Paul, to whom the professors were not in the habit of designating which boat they would have.

“I said the gig, sir,” repeated Mr. Hamblin, loftily.

“I beg your pardon, sir; but the gig is the captain’s boat,” replied Paul, with deference.

“The captain’s boat!” puffed the professor.

“Mr. Lowington directed me to use the first cutter for the professors,” added Paul.

“Am I to understand that you again refuse me a boat?”

“No, sir; by no means,” said the captain, ready to weep with vexation at these disagreeable incidents.

He turned from Mr. Hamblin, and directed the first lieutenant to pipe away the first cutters; and in a few moments the boat was ready.  The fourth lieutenant was sent in charge of the cutter.  The professor went over the side into the boat; and as he made no objections, the officers concluded that he did not know the difference between the gig and the first cutter.  At certain stages of the tide, there is a three-mile current in the Scheldt, with strong eddies, formed by the sweep of the river.  By a miscalculation of the coxswain, the cutter fell astern of the ship, and had to pull up to her, which prolonged the passage somewhat, thereby increasing the ill nature and impatience of Mr. Hamblin.

“In bows!” said the coxswain, as the boat approached the ship; and the two bowmen tossed their oars and boated them, taking position in the bow-grating, with the boat-hooks in their hands.

“Way enough!” added the coxswain; and the rest of the crew tossed their oars.

At the gangway of the ship stairs had been rigged, at the foot of which there was a platform, for the convenience of those boarding or leaving the ship by the boats.  The bowmen fastened their boat-hooks upon the platform, in readiness to haul the boat alongside, so that the passenger could step out without inconvenience.  But the current was strong, and some delay ensued.

“There! let me get out!” exclaimed Mr. Hamblin, rising in the boat, and walking between the oarsmen to the bow.

“Steady, sir!” said Humphreys, the officer, as he took the arm of the professor, to prevent him from falling.

“Pull the boat up, so I can step out!” said Mr. Hamblin, impatiently, to the bowmen.

They were hauling her up closer to the platform, against the strong current, which, being in a direction contrary to the wind, made considerable sea, causing the boat to roll and jerk uneasily.  When she was within a couple of feet of the platform, the professor attempted to step out.

“Steady, sir!” said Morgan, one of the bowmen, as Mr. Hamblin was about to take the step; but at that instant the boat receded from the platform, and the learned gentleman, with one foot on the plank and the other on the bow of the boat, made a very long straddle, toppled over into the water, and disappeared in the eddies.

“My boat-hook broke!” protested Morgan, holding up the implement, from which the iron had drawn out; and after what had occurred on board of the consort, he probably deemed it necessary to make an immediate defence.

“Man overboard!” shouted several students in the ship; and immediately there was an immense commotion on board of her.

Mr. Hamblin rose to the surface an instant later, and shouted for help.  The accident was observed from the Josephine, and the gig piped away in double quick time.

“Up oars!  Let fall!  Give way!” shouted Robinson, in the first cutter, as she drifted away from the gangway of the ship, without waiting for the orders to be repeated by the coxswain.

A few vigorous strokes of the oars brought the cutter to the spot where the professor was struggling with the dirty current.  The bowmen seized him by the collar, and the crew, after no little labor, owing to the excitement of the unfortunate gentleman, succeeded in getting him into the boat.  He was placed in the stern sheets, and Robinson afforded him such assistance as the circumstances would permit.

The gig, with Paul and Pelham on board, was darting through the current towards the first cutter.  It was too late to be of any service; but it continued on its way, and the captain manifested his interest and sympathy as well as he could.  Mr. Hamblin pressed the water from his hair, wiped his face with his wet handkerchief, and otherwise endeavored to remove the effects of his involuntary bath.  He seemed to be, thus far, no worse for the disaster; but he directed Robinson to return directly to the Josephine, for obvious reasons.

The two boats came alongside together; and this time the professor, notwithstanding the discomfort of his condition, made no undue haste to leave the cutter before she was properly secured.

“I am very sorry indeed for your misfortune, sir,” said Paul, politely, when he met Mr. Hamblin on deck.

“Perhaps you are!” replied he, rushing down the cabin stairs, bestowing hardly a glance upon the sympathizing commander.

He went to his state-room, and made an entire change of his clothing.  The weather was warm, and he suffered no serious consequences.

“You are a very unfortunate person, Mr. Hamblin,” said his associate instructor, when the savant, clean and dry, emerged from the state-room.

“It was done on purpose, Mr. Stoute,” replied he, solemnly, with compressed lips.

“O, no!  It couldn’t be!” protested the fat professor.  “You are simply unfortunate.  First, a coil of rope falls on your head, and then you fall overboard.  You should be careful.”

“Has that student been punished for throwing the rope upon me?”

“No, sir.  I stood by during the investigation at the mainmast.  It could not be proved that the act was done on purpose; and, for my part, I did not believe it was.”

“I am very confident it was.  I can read the expression on the faces of the boys; and I am certain there is a conspiracy among them to knock out my brains or drown me in the river.”

“Boys will be boys, and they are very prone to look at the ludicrous aspect of an accident,” added the stout professor.  “I should not give a serious interpretation to any little signs of mirth I happened to see.”

“Mr. Stoute, you allow yourself to be hoodwinked, deceived, overwhelmed, by these artful boys.  You should maintain more dignity in your intercourse with them.”

“There is a true and a false dignity, Mr. Hamblin.  I shall endeavor to avoid the one, and cling to the other,” replied Mr. Stoute, warmly, but good-naturedly.

“You are aware that I asked for the gig before I started for the ship?” continued Mr. Hamblin, impressively.

“I am; and I was also aware that the first cutter had been appropriated to the use of the instructors.”

“I demanded the gig.  It was refused.  What did that mean?”

“It meant just what the captain said-that the principal required him to furnish the first cutter for our use.”

“That is not what it meant,” persisted Mr. Hamblin.  “The crew of the first cutter had been instructed to tip me into the river.  When I called for the gig, it deranged the plan.  I am only sorry that I did not refuse to take the cutter, and insist upon having the gig; but I do not wish to make trouble.”

“But why did you ask for the gig?”

“Because I saw Morgan, who, I knew, belonged in the cutter, laughing when the rope fell on my head.  He would as lief drown me as not.”

“I think you misjudge the boys.”

“I am surprised that one who has been a teacher as long as you have does not understand boys any better,” replied Mr. Hamblin, coldly.  “I am satisfied that Kendall is at the bottom of all this mischief.”

“I am very sure he is not,” said Mr. Stoute, decidedly.

“The crew of the cutter had been prepared for their work.”

It was surprising that two men who had been among boys so long took such opposite views of them; but the difference of opinion was more in the men than in the boys.

These events were the staple of conversation on deck and in the steerage among the crew; and some of the better boys heard certain indefinite remarks about “the first step” and “the second step,” used by “our fellows;” but no real friend of law and order discovered anything which threw any new light upon the two misfortunes that had overtaken the senior professor, though there was a suspicion that these were the first and second steps hinted at by the doubtful ones.