THE PROFESSOR’S CHARGE.

“I say, Perth, I’ve been a good boy for more than a week, and I begin to be ashamed of myself for my want of activity,” said Wilton, who had seated himself on the bowsprit-cap, while his companion was reclining on the flying jib.  “I shall spoil if there is not something going on soon.”

“We’ll go on that cruise in the Josephine just as soon as we can bring things round right,” added Perth.

“It’s no use to think of that while we are moored fifty or a hundred miles from the sea,” continued Wilton.

“Of course not.  Rotterdam is away up the river, with a bar at its mouth having only seven feet of water on it at low tide.  You must go over that, or by the canal, which runs through an island.  Do you know where we go next?”

“I heard some of the fellows say we were going to the southward soon.”

“If that’s so I should suppose we shall go into Dieppe or Havre,” said Perth.

“I heard Havre mentioned.  How will that suit?”

“First rate!” exclaimed the embryo captain of the proposed prize, for the Knights depended upon Perth for the navigation of the Josephine, when their long-cherished plan should be put in execution.

“I suppose we shall not stay in Holland more than a week.”

“No, I hope not.  Lowington is afraid we shall all get sick if we stay here long.”

“Havre is just the place for us.  It has an open harbor, and we can go to sea from there without any difficulty.  Besides, there’s another thing that will favor us.”

“What’s that?” asked Wilton.

“All the fellows will go to Paris when the ship is there, and we can have a first-rate chance to operate while they are gone.”

“I don’t know about that.  Our fellows will all want to go to Paris with the rest.  I want to go there myself,” suggested Wilton.

“We may as well give it up, then,” added Perth.

“We must see Paris, anyhow.”

“I’ll tell you what we can do.  We can run round through the Straits of Gibraltar, and up the Mediterranean to Marseilles.  From there we can all go to Paris.”.

“That will be a long cruise,” said Wilton.

“No matter for that.  The longer the better.”

“How far is it?”

“Not less than two thousand miles.  We could go in ten or fifteen days,” added Perth, warming up as he anticipated the pleasure of the runaway cruise.  “After we get into the Mediterranean, we can run along the coast of Spain, go into port as often as we like, and have a first-rate time generally.”

“But don’t you suppose Lowington will follow us?”

“No matter if he does.  We can beat the Young America on a wind from Monday morning till Saturday night.  If we find the ship is overhauling us, all we have to do is to hug the wind, and we can give her the slip.”

“We haven’t money enough to pay the expenses of such a trip,” said Wilton.

“There’s plenty of money in the Josephine.  But we don’t need much.  The vessel has a year’s provisions in her hold.”

“Salt junk and hard tack,” suggested Wilton, who was not partial to this diet.

“That will do very well while we are at sea; and when we get to Spain we can buy things cheap.  Besides, our fellows are going to raise some money on their own account,” said Perth, in a whisper.

“How’s that?” asked the other, curiously.

“Every one of the Knights wrote home to have their folks send them some money at Paris,-or every one but you and Munroe; and the game was played out with you and him, for you had some sent to you in London.”

“Yes; and Lowington got it,” replied Wilton in disgust.

“We fixed it all right.  We shall find loose change enough on board of the Josephine to keep us happy till we get to Paris, by the way of Marseilles, and then we shall be rotten with stamps.”

“But don’t you expect to be caught some time or other?” inquired Wilton, whose experience on a former occasion seemed to point in this direction.

“No matter if we are.  We must be ready for that; but we will be jolly while we have things our own way.”

“It’s no use to talk about it yet,” added Wilton, with a yawn, for the wild scheme seemed so far off to him that he could not enter into the spirit of it yet.

“It won’t be more than a week or ten days before we shall be ready to make a strike.  You know we must all cut up so as to be left on board.”

“Yes, and some one will be left on board with us, just as it happened at Cowes.”

“It won’t be Fluxion, anyhow; for he has been transferred to the Josephine, and we can come it over any other of the professors.  However, we must feel our way, and the first thing we have to do is to get left on board.”

“Humph!  That’s easy enough,” said Wilton, who had never found any difficulty in being left behind, or in being condemned to the brig.

“We must make a sure thing of it next time; but it won’t do to run away with a boat again.  Hush up!  There comes that old stick-in-the-mud from the Josephine,” added Perth, lowering his voice to a whisper.

The gentleman thus discourteously alluded to was Mr. Hamblin,who had climbed upon the topgallant forecastle for the purpose of obtaining a view of the region through which the vessel was passing.  As the two boys were far out on the bowsprit, over the water, he did not venture to approach any nearer to them; yet the excessive prudence which the Knights practised required them to keep silence whenever there was a possibility that a word might be overheard by the uninitiated.

“I wish he would come up here,” whispered Wilton, from the corner of his mouth.

“Why?”

“I would contrive some way to spill him into the drink,” chuckled the ever-willing conspirator.

Mr. Hamblin was then cool and self-possessed, and he did not venture out upon the treacherous spar, and the entangling rigging, so that the wretch on the cap had no opportunity to give him a second bath in the dirty Scheldt.  The learned gentleman was looking for the site of the Duke of Parma’s Bridge, but he couldn’t find it, and presently retired.  He was not much interested in the Spanish operations in Flanders, though he felt it his duty to see a spot so noted in history-it was so effective, before a class of students, to be able to say he had seen the place alluded to in the text-book.  He was, in fact, more concerned to know what Mr. Lowington’s decision was, and he was waiting impatiently for an interview with him.

“The old hunks is too mean for the Josephines, and he has been quartered upon us!” exclaimed Wilton, as the professor descended to the main deck.  “The fellows in the consort say he is as grouty as a mud turtle, and as crabbed as an owl at noonday.  He snubs every one that makes a blunder, and rips at the class half the time.”

“They say Lowington don’t like him much better than the fellows do,” added Perth.

It would be difficult to explain how any of the students had reached this conclusion; but it is certain that boys understand their guardians and instructors much better than the latter generally suppose.

“Perth, I think we might as well have our liberty stopped for serving out Old Crabs, as for anything else,” suggested Wilton.

“I’m willing; the Knights will do that job handsomely, you may bet your life.”

“But we musn’t get caught too soon.”

“We work in the dark, and we can do the thing as well as the Josephines did.”

“Let’s study up something at once, and put him through a course of sprouts.  I don’t believe in tolerating a professor who was too mean for the Josephine,” replied Wilton, shaking his head, as though a personal indignity had been put upon him.

“All right; we will be ready as soon as he is.  What’s the row on deck?” continued Perth, rising from his seat, as a group of students gathered in the rigging, and on such elevations as would enable them to see over the bulwarks.

“Only one of Mapps’s long yarns,” answered Wilton.

“I’m going down to see what it is.”

Perth went down, but Wilton had not the slightest interest in anything Mr. Mapps had to say; and he stretched himself on the jib, which had been cast loose ready to hoist, in case it should be required.

“This is the place where the Duke of Parma built his great bridge over the Scheldt,” said the professor of history, as the students gathered around him.

“What did he build the bridge for?” asked one of them.

“In order to close the navigation of the river, and thus prevent the people of Antwerp from obtaining provisions, which came to them from Holland.  When the Prince of Orange was assassinated, the Duke of Parma was making his preparations to subdue the country.  By the death of the prince Holland was left without an effective leader, while in the duke Spain had one of the most accomplished and energetic generals of his age.  Parma saw that Antwerp was the key to the situation, and he directed his whole attention to its capture.

“Before this time the Prince of Orange had realized that the loss of Antwerp would be the loss of the whole of the region which is now called Belgium; and when it was clear in what direction his skilful antagonist proposed to operate, he had advised the cutting of the dike on your right, which would lay the country under water, and open a channel of communication with Holland and Zealand by water.  Unfortunately, his advice was disregarded till the duke had secured the dikes-a neglect which caused the loss of Antwerp, and with it the whole of Flanders.

“Though Parma had erected forts all along the banks of the river, the hardy Dutchmen ran the gantlet of them, and Antwerp was well supplied with food, the price being four times as much as in Holland.  The people of the city, and even their leaders, ridiculed the idea of constructing the bridge, and took no steps to prevent it.  The death of Orange caused a panic throughout the Netherlands, of which the shrewd Parma took advantage, and urged on his preparations.  Though crippled in a measure by the neglect of his sovereign to supply him with men and money, the bridge was completed in the face of tremendous obstacles.  It was twenty-four hundred feet long, and composed of thirty-two boats, or vessels, bound together by hawsers, cables, and beams.  On each side was a wall of timbers, and on the structure guns were planted for its defence.  A fort was erected at each end, heavily armed and manned.

“When the bridge was finished, the Antwerpers, who had laughed to scorn the idea of such a structure, found that their supplies were cut off.  They made two attempts to break through the bridge, but failed in both, though in one of them they made a breach by exploding a fire-ship, and destroyed nearly a thousand Spanish soldiers, and Parma himself was knocked senseless.  The attempt was not followed up with sufficient energy, and the Spaniard had time to repair the work.  Antwerp, deprived of provisions by the skill and determination of the duke, was starved out and compelled to surrender.  The country continued under the Spanish yoke, while the United Provinces maintained their independence.”

The attentive audience which had gathered around the professor separated when he had finished the story.  Some of them went aloft, to look over the dikes, and with their eyes followed the long lines of ditches and canals which extended into the interior.

In the mean time, Mr. Hamblin walked the deck very uneasily, waiting for an opportunity to discuss his position with the principal.  The studies of the classes were to be resumed on the following day, and he was anxious to know what disposition was to be made of him.  The ship was already provided with an excellent instructor in Greek and Latin; and only in the department of mathematics was there a vacancy, made by the transfer of Mr. Fluxion.  It would be impossible for Mr. Hamblin to teach anything but Greek and Latin, though he had had some experience in the other branches.

Mr. Lowington seemed to be provokingly indifferent on the subject, and the professor was at last compelled to ask an interview, which, however, his dignity compelled him to defer till the ship was approaching Flushing, when the steamer was to leave her.  The principal understood the character of the learned gentleman very well, and knew that any manifestation of anxiety on his own part would so inflate the vanity of the professor that he could do nothing with him; but he granted the interview when it was demanded.

“Mr. Lowington, I am rather desirous of knowing what is to be done,” said the savant, when they were alone in the main cabin.  “I find that Mr. Fluxion has been transferred to the place I filled on the Josephine.  As you are aware, I was employed to teach Latin and Greek.”

“I am aware of it,” replied the principal, still appearing to be singularly indifferent in such a momentous crisis, as it seemed to Mr. Hamblin.

“I presume Mr. Fluxion is competent to teach the classics.”

“Entirely competent.  He was assigned, in the beginning, to the department of navigation, on account of his knowledge of practical seamanship.  I don’t know that he has any superior as a teacher of the classics.”

Mr. Hamblin did not like this answer.  The principal had no business to think that any one was his equal in the department of Greek and Latin, especially the former.  Mr. Fluxion had never written a Greek Grammar, compiled a Greek Reader, and edited the Anabasis.  The remark of the principal was very injudicious.

“Having been displaced from my position in the consort, I am rather desirous of knowing what is to be done with me,” added the professor, choking down his disgust.

“I hope we shall be able to make an arrangement that will be satisfactory to you, at least for the present,” replied the principal.  “I have had some consultation with the instructors; and Mr. Paradyme has obligingly consented to take the department of mathematics in the ship for a time, and the Greek and Latin will be assigned to you.”

“This arrangement is entirely satisfactory to me, Mr. Lowington,” answered the professor, who was really delighted to obtain what was regarded as the senior professorship in the squadron; and it seemed quite fitting that the place should be given to him.

“This is only a temporary arrangement,” added the principal, desirous to prevent any misunderstanding in the future.

This was not entirely satisfactory to Mr. Hamblin, who thought a thing so fitly done ought to be permanent.

“It is not pleasant for me to feel unsettled, and to be liable to a change at any time,” said the professor.  “I think I should prefer my place in the Josephine.”

“Since you and the captain of the Josephine cannot agree, it does not appear to be practicable for you to remain there.”

“Do you expect me to submit when insulted by a pupil, Mr. Lowington?” asked Mr. Hamblin, solemnly.  “Will you allow a student to insult me?”

“I will neither allow a student to insult you, nor you to insult a student,” replied the principal, with the most refreshing frankness.

“You will not allow me to insult a pupil!” exclaimed Mr. Hamblin.

“Certainly not.”

“Do you think me capable of doing such a thing?”

“I am sorry to say you have proved that you are.  You called one of them a puppy.”

“But not until-”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hamblin.  I do not purpose to discuss this matter again.”

“May I ask if you sustain Mr. Kendall in his conduct towards me?”

“I do-fully.”

“I am astonished, sir!”

“So am I-astonished that a gentleman of your learning and ability should so demean himself as to apply offensive epithets to his pupils.  In the first place, you had no right to interfere with the discipline of the vessel; and when Captain Kendall told you that he commanded the Josephine, he said no more than the truth, and no more than the circumstances required him to say.  In the second place, after you called him a puppy, and repeated the epithet, on the quarter-deck, I could not have blamed him if he had put you in irons.  I approve his conduct fully.  As you insulted him before his officers and crew, it was necessary that he should vindicate himself before them.”

“I am afraid this vessel is no place for me,” said the professor, with extreme disgust.

“I am afraid not, if you cannot observe the rules of the ship.”

“I think I have observed the rules, sir.  Mr. Kendall used every means in his power to annoy me; and still you sustain him in it.  He knows that you are partial to him.”

“I am not aware that Captain Kendall used any means to annoy you.”

“I think you do not know that boy as well as I do.  A rope was thrown down upon my head:  the offence was suffered to pass unnoticed by Mr. Kendall.  I was wilfully or carelessly thrown into the river; the captain did not consult me, but made his inquiries in private, and of course the culprits escaped.”

“You were thrown into the river by your own carelessness, Mr. Hamblin.  I saw the whole of it.”

“So Mr. Kendall told me, in the most offensive tones.  I do not complain of these things; I only mention them for the sequel.  A boy drenched me with water; he begged my pardon on his knees, and I forgave him; but this offence the captain punishes in the most severe manner.  Why?  Apparently because I-the only sufferer-had forgiven the offender.”

“It was necessary for the captain to put a stop to such pranks.”

“But he did not use good judgment.  McDougal explained the matter, and was exceedingly sorry.”

“But he drenched you on purpose.”

“Impossible, sir!”

The principal called one of the stewards, and sent for McDougal, who presently appeared.  He had already confessed that the drenching was not an accident, and he repeated his statement, to the utter astonishment of the discomfited pedagogue.  During the excursion on shore, some of the Josephines had told him that the trouble between Paul and the professor had been on his account; and he had made the confession in order to justify the captain, at whatever cost to himself.  The spirited conduct of the young commander had filled the boys with admiration, and they were determined that he should not suffer, whoever else did.

“You did it on purpose-did you?” repeated the savant.  “May I ask why you did it?”

“The fellows didn’t like you, and were bound to get you out of the Josephine,” replied McDougal, candidly.

“The fellows!” exclaimed Mr. Hamblin.  “Were there others concerned in this iniquitous transaction?”

“More than a dozen of them.”

“Did you write the letter to me which purported to come from the Belgian Minister of Foreign Affairs?”

“No, sir.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know!  Don’t lie to me,” said the professor, sternly.

“I do not.”

“I know,” added the learned gentleman, turning to the principal.

“McDougal, you say that a dozen boys were concerned in your proceedings.  Who were they?”

“I would rather not tell, sir.  I am willing to own up to all I did myself.”

“You hear that, Mr. Lowington?” exclaimed the professor, with horror.

“Of course I hear it, Mr. Hamblin,” replied the principal, impatiently.  “You may leave, McDougal.”

“Leave, sir!” ejaculated Mr. Hamblin.

“Go, McDougal;” and he went.  “You said you knew who wrote the fictitious letter, sir.”

“I do.”

“Who was it?”

“Mr. Lowington, if that boy you sent away had told the whole truth, he would have confessed that Mr. Kendall was at the bottom of all these infamous proceedings.”

“Captain Kendall!”

“Yes, sir; especially the plan to throw me into the water.  When I demanded a boat, I mentioned the gig.  It was refused.  Why?  Because the crew of the first cutter had been instructed to tip me overboard!  It is very strange that no one but myself has been able to understand the vicious intentions of the boys.”

“The gig is the captain’s boat.  The regulations require the captain to give the professors the first cutter,” explained Mr. Lowington.

“I was not aware of it at the time; but I am satisfied that the crew of the first cutter had been instructed to pitch me into the river.”

“If they were, you were very obliging to assist them as you did,” added the principal.  “But go on.  Do you suppose Captain Kendall instructed McDougal to drench you with water?”

“Very likely.”

“And then inflicted the severest punishment upon him for doing it?  It is absurd!  That was the third and last offence.  The captain put an end to these tricks by his well-timed energy, and I am sure he had no part or lot in them.  Do you think he got some one to write the letter to you?”

“No, sir; I think he did it himself,” replied the professor, more calmly, as he came to what he considered his stronghold.

“I am not willing to believe it.”

“I am prepared to prove it, sir.”

“If Kendall has been guilty of such conduct,-if it can be shown that he wrote the letter, or that he knew of its being written,-I will not only suspend him, but I will reduce him to a common sailor, and confine him in the brig,” said the principal, with no little agitation.

This strong speech looked like the dawn of reason to Mr. Hamblin, and he hastened to produce his evidence.  The letter and several exercises written by Paul were first placed on the cabin table, to enable Mr. Lowington to compare the penmanship.

“There is a strong similarity in them, I grant; but they are all written in the common school-boy hand of the United States,” added the principal.

“There is a stronger resemblance than that.  The capital A’s are the same; the small r’s are identical.”

“But the small à’s are different.”

“Doubtless he disguised his hand to some extent.”

“Is this all the proof you have?” asked Mr. Lowington, somewhat relieved.

“No, sir,” replied the professor, triumphantly, as he exhibited the paper he had taken from Paul’s state-room, which was different from any he had been able to find in either vessel.  “The paper is identical, you perceive.”

“I see that it is.”

“And no other student has such paper.”

“The ship has provided paper for the students, but none like this,” said Mr. Lowington, with a sigh.

“I think you will consider the case proved,” added Mr. Hamblin, exultingly.

“By no means.  Enough has been shown to warrant an inquiry.  I will make an investigation immediately.”

This was all Mr. Hamblin could ask; and, confident that Captain Kendall would be convicted, he left the cabin, as the captain of the Belgian steamer came in to settle for the towage.