"You may return to your duty, on this condition—that you have no communication with either the Howe or the Raymond party," added Mr. Lowington. "You will not inform them in regard to anything which has transpired, or may transpire, on deck. Do you accept the conditions?"

"I do, certainly, sir," replied Hyde.

Others gave the required pledge, astonished to be restored to their duty on such mild terms. They took their stations with the crew. But Grace Arbuckle soon appeared with the blue ribbons, and Hyde was conducted to her by the commodore.

"I confer upon you the second degree of the Order of the Faithful, and decorate you with the blue ribbon. When you have proved yourself faithful to your duty, and worthy of promotion, you will be advanced to the third degree, the emblem of which is the white ribbon," said Grace, as she pinned the decoration upon his breast.

"Thank you," replied Hyde, rather bewildered by the ceremony.

The rest of the penitents were brought up, and, in like manner, initiated into the Order of the Faithful. Of course they wanted to know more about it, and the new organization was explained to them.

"I'm glad you backed out, Hyde," said Tremere. "When are the rest coming?"

"I don't know that they are coming at all. I got enough of it."

"What do those fellows want to do?"

"Get their rights."

"Well, they'll get them when they return to their duty, and not before, unless it is the right to be punished for their disobedience," added Tremere.

"I still think it was not fair to give up the trip to the Rhine, after the promise that we should go, though it was a great mistake of mine to refuse to do duty," added Hyde.

"Who says the trip is given up?"

"All the fellows;" and Hyde rehearsed the arguments which had been used to sustain the proposition.

"As you are now a member of the Order of the Faithful, you may know its secrets," laughed Tremere. "Mr. Lowington made an explanation to those who did not take the law into their own hands;" and he proceeded to give the substance of this statement.

Hyde was all the more disgusted with the course he and his friends had adopted, and was fully resolved to do his duty in future, whatever his personal opinions might be. The mildest of the mutineers were thus disposed of, and a dozen pair of hands added to the force of the ship.

While this conversation was in progress, the Young America had been headed towards the Josephine. Peaks had fired one of the guns on the forecastle, which was the signal, in the night, for the consort to heave to. Hyde's party had been restored to their several stations, while the volunteer officers still filled the places of those who did not answer the boatswain's call. The Josephine promptly obeyed the signal, and the ship ran up to her, as near as it was prudent to go, backed her main-topsail, lying to on her quarter. The first cutter was manned and lowered, vacancies in her crew being filled with the stoutest hands available. A dozen breakers, or kegs, used for boat service, were put on board, and with Peaks to assist in the stowage, the cutter shoved off, and pulled for the schooner.

The officer in charge of the boat explained to Mr. Fluxion what had occurred on board of the ship, and the twelve breakers, with six more belonging to the consort, were filled and stowed in the boat, which returned without delay to the Young America. The cutter was hoisted up, and again the squadron stood on its course. The new supply of water was immediately secured under lock and key, in one of the store-rooms. The quantity was still very meagre, being hardly enough for two days' consumption on full allowance. The watch below was again dismissed. It included one half of the penitents, who were beset by Raymond's party with questions and abuse; but they were true to their pledge, and the rebels were none the wiser.

The noise of the gun and of the lowering of the cutter had been heard by the runaways, and the appearance of the eighteen breakers, as they were passed down into the hold, was the assurance of another failure to them.

"We are dished," said Monroe, as the forward officer passed down the kegs.

"Perhaps we are, and perhaps we are not," replied Howe. "The end hasn't come yet."

"I suppose there is room enough in the run for the contents of all those breakers," added Little.

"Hyde and the rest of those babies have returned to their duty," continued Monroe, who was always the first to despond.

"No matter for that; we will keep on this tack till something happens," persisted Howe. "By this time we are pretty sure of being left behind when the fellows go to Germany; and for my part, as Fluxion is going away, I think that is the best thing that can happen to us. We shall find a chance to strike out on our own hook."

But the arrival of the water breakers carried consternation to the runaways, whatever they said and did. They were tired of the battle, though, if any of them had a thought of repentance, they subdued it. Raymond's party were angry at the defection of Hyde and his associates, and the future looked dark and hopeless, so far as remedial agencies were concerned, but their pride still prompted them to hold out. Wearied with anxiety and hope deferred, they turned in as the night advanced.

At eight bells, all hands were called again. The wind was blowing half a gale, and the starboard watch had taken in the light sails. It was deemed advisable still further to shorten sail, and a reef was put in the topsails. The starboard watch then turned in, the port having the deck till four in the morning. The wind came in heavy gusts from the south-west, and shortly after midnight it began to veer to the west, which brought up a dense fog. At four bells in the mid watch, the wind came square from the west in heavy squalls. The ship went about, and stood to the southward, the principal intending to go into Cherbourg if the weather would permit.

At eight bells, when the morning watch was called, another reef was put in the topsails. At daylight the fog was too dense to think of making a port, and the ship tacked again. There was a heavy sea running, but everything went along very well. Captain Shuffles remained on deck all night, but no emergency occurred which required the exercise of more than ordinary skill and energy. The wind was blowing a gale, though not a very severe one. All the students on board had been in worse weather, and it produced no excitement whatever.

At seven bells in the morning, the port watch was called to breakfast, according to the regular routine of the ship. The meal consisted of coffee, beefsteak, fried potatoes, and the rolls which had been baked the preceding afternoon. Peaks and the head steward were in the steerage, and when some of the runaways appeared, and attempted to seat themselves at the mess tables, they were forbidden to do so. Only those decorated with white or blue ribbons were allowed to breakfast. At eight bells the port watch went on deck, and the starboard, relieved from duty, came down to their morning meal, when the tables had been reset. A fresh supply of hot steaks and potatoes was brought from the kitchen, for the breakfast of each watch was cooked separately, and they fared precisely as the other watch had. The rebels were still excluded from the mess tables, and violent was the grumbling thereat.

When the regular breakfast was finished, the tables were again cleared, and the mutineers began to think they were to be starved into subjection; but they were mistaken, in part, at least, for the tables were again set. This time there were no hot beefsteaks, no fresh rolls, no fried potatoes, no coffee—nothing but cold corned beef and hard tack. None of the cooks or stewards said anything, no one made any remarks of any kind. There was the breakfast—salt junk and hard tack—regular sailor's fare. The head steward mildly indicated that breakfast was ready for those who had not already been served. The two parties of rebels seated themselves, and turned up their noses at the fare.

"Steward, bring me a mug of coffee," shouted Howe to the nearest waiter.

"It takes water to make coffee," replied the man, solemnly, and as he had doubtless been instructed to answer.

"What if it does? Bring me some coffee," repeated Howe, angrily.

"No coffee for this crowd," interposed the head steward, as solemnly.

"But I'm going to have my coffee," added Wilton, whose temper was not the sweetest in the world, as he rose from his stool, and rushed towards the kitchen door.

"Avast, my lad!" said Peaks, taking the rebel by the collar with no gentle force. "It takes water to make coffee."

Wilton was afraid of the boatswain, for there was a tradition on board that he had, on one occasion, laid hands upon a refractory boy, and he was evidently in the steerage for a purpose. He skulked back to his place at the table.

"Can't I have some coffee?" demanded Raymond, of the head steward, when that official came near his seat.

"You cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because it takes water to make coffee."

"What of that?"

"Owing to circumstances, the supply of water on board is rather short," answered the head steward, as solemnly as before.

"That's nothing to do with me. I didn't start the water tanks."

"I obey orders, and don't argue with any one; but there's an old saying that a man is known by the company he keeps, and I suppose a boy is, too."

The steward passed on, and refused to answer any more questions.

"If we can't have coffee, give us some water," said Lindsley.

"Water is water," replied the steward.

The rebels were hungry, and they ate, though very sparingly, of the unpalatable food which was set before them. Like most other boys belonging to "the first families," they did not relish corned beef at any time; and that before them, though of excellent quality, was very salt, having been a long time in the brine. They partook of the beef and the hard bread simply because there was nothing else with which to satisfy their hunger. Some of them wanted to "make a row" about the fare; but Peaks was a very formidable obstacle in the way of any such demonstration. They ate what they could, rather than what they wanted, and retreated to their mess-rooms.

"Well, what do you think now?" said Lindsley, as he threw himself into his berth.

Raymond only shook his head and grated his teeth.

"I think we are sold, and the sooner we back down, the better," added Lindsley.

"I won't back down!" snapped Raymond, savagely.

"How long do you think you can eat salt horse, without any water to wash it down?"

"I can stand it till I die!"

"I don't think it is worth while to stand it quite so long as that."

"I do! What right has the principal to deny us even a drop of water?"

"What right have we to stand out, and refuse to do our duty? Howe's fellows started the water tanks, and—"

"We didn't do it!" interrupted Raymond, savagely. "I won't stand it."

Rushing out into the steerage, he went to the water jar, in one corner. It was empty, though there was a breaker of water on deck for the use of the Faithful, who were thirsty. He was mad, and ready for desperate steps. He hastened to the mess-room of Howe, and entered just as that worthy was taking a draught from the bottle he had filled at the tanks the evening before.

"What's that?" demanded he.

"Water," replied Howe, good-naturedly.

"Give us a drink—will you? I'm almost choked," asked Raymond, glad to see that there was still an alternative.

"No, I thank you," answered Howe, putting the stopper back into the bottle. "We don't do the heavy jobs, and then provide for those who are too cowardly to help us."

"We are in the same boat with you; and it isn't fair to let our fellows suffer while you have water."

"You wouldn't go in with us. We have only a bottle apiece," pleaded Howe.

Raymond appealed to others in the room, but all of them were of one mind. The salt beef had created a tremendous thirst among those who had eaten it, and all who had water made large draughts upon the supply. The bottles had contained pickles, olives, ketchup, and other similar articles, so that the water was not very palatable. In the course of the forenoon, Raymond and his party stealthily attempted to obtain possession of these bottles, but the runaways were too vigilant for them; and before dinner the thirsty ones were exceedingly uncomfortable, to say the least. They tried to conceal their condition from the Faithful as much as possible, but they were all very nervous and disquieted.

At one o'clock, after the regular dinner of roast beef and rice pudding had been served to the Faithful, the tables were again prepared for the rebels; but the bill of fare was corned beef and hard bread—not a drop of water. Peaks and the head steward paced the unsteady floor, as they had done at breakfast time. Raymond, whose tongue and lips were parched with thirst, became desperate again, and attempted to force his way into the kitchen. He was seized by the boatswain, and the more he struggled, the more he was shaken up. He refused to behave himself, and Peaks thrust him into the brig.



CHAPTER IX.

THE LAST OF THE MUTINEERS.

The gale continued to blow ugly and gusty during the day, until eight bells in the afternoon. The fog hung heavy over the ocean, and the bell was rung every five minutes, in accordance with the English Admiralty instructions. The ship had been standing close-hauled to the north-north-west since noon, when she had tacked, at the warning of the fog signal, made at some light station on the coast of France, in the vicinity of Cape de La Hague. For four hours she had been on her present course, and was therefore approaching the coast of England again. At the beginning of the first dog-watch, there were some signs of a change of weather. The fog appeared to be lifting, and the wind came in less violent gusts.

In the steerage, among the rebels, the most unalloyed misery prevailed. The runaways had exhausted their supply of water under the pressure of thirst caused by the salt provision, though they had not yet begun to be very uncomfortable. Certainly they had, as yet, no thought of yielding, but were rather studying up the means of obtaining a new supply of water. Raymond's party were only waiting for the boatswain's call to ask permission to join their shipmates on deck; but, most provokingly, no call came. Their leader had been discharged from the brig as soon as he ceased to be violent; for the principal did not wish to punish any one for the mutiny, preferring to let it work its own cure on the diet he had prescribed.

With the exception of the rebels, every one seemed to be particularly jolly. The principal had explained his policy to them, and they were entirely satisfied. All the evolutions of seamanship were performed with remarkable precision even in the gale, demonstrating that the crew had not lost their prestige, when the will was right. In the cabin, even, the rough sea did not dampen the spirits of the passengers, who had been, in a measure, accustomed to the rude action of the sea by their voyage in the steamer and in the Josephine. The Grand Protectress of the Order of the Faithful was full of life and spirits, and watched with the deepest interest the progress of the rebellion in the steerage.

In Raymond's party the suffering from thirst had become intolerable. Lindsley's back had been broken early in the forenoon, but Raymond declared that he would never yield—he would die first.

"What's the use?" demanded Lindsley. "We are whipped out, sold out, played out, and used up. My tongue is as dry as a piece of wash-leather."

"I don't like to give it up," replied Raymond. "It looks mean to back out."

"Just look at it a moment. We are suffering for the sins of Howe's fellows. They let off the water, saving a supply for themselves, and our fellows are really the only ones who suffer for their deed. We are sustaining them, even while they won't give us a drop of water to moisten our lips. For one, I never will get into such a scrape again. We have been fools, and whenever I see the runaways go one way, I'm going the other."

"All hands, on deck, ahoy!" shouted the boatswain at the main hatch.

"That means me," said Lindsley, rushing to the ladder. "Come along, Raymond. Howe and his fellows have been stingy and mean enough to be left alone."

Most of the crew were on deck when the call was piped. Lindsley led the way up the ladder, and Raymond followed him. The last argument of his friend had evidently converted the latter, for, however much he disliked to yield, it was not so bad as supporting the cause of such fellows as Howe, who would not even give him a drink of water. And the idea of enduring positive suffering for the evil deed of the runaways was not pleasant. They had let the water out of the tanks, but Raymond and his friends were the only ones who had thus far suffered in consequence of the act. It was these reflections which absolutely drove him upon deck, rather than any disposition to undo the wrong he had done.

A lift of the fog had revealed the Bill of Portland, a narrow neck of land projecting outside the channel from the English coast. The wind was hauling to the northward, and the prospect of fair weather was very good. The order was given to turn out one of the reefs in the topsails. The appearance of the Raymond party was noticed by Mr. Lowington, and even the passengers observed those who wore neither the white nor the blue ribbon. As soon as the rebels reached the deck, they discovered the water breaker in the waist. They charged upon it with a fury which required the interference of an officer; but half a pint was served out to each of them before they were sent aloft.

The reefs were turned out, and the ship came about on the other tack. Nothing had been seen of the Josephine since the fog settled down upon the squadron the night before; but the principal had no fears in regard to her safety. Fog-horns, guns, and bells warn the voyager of his approach to any of the perils of the shore; and the experienced navigator can interpret these signals so as to avoid all danger.

"South-west by west, half west," said Paul Kendall, who was the acting sailing-master on duty, giving out the course to the quarter-master in charge of the wheel.

"South-west by west, half west," repeated the latter.

"Where will that take us?" asked Grace Arbuckle, who watched everything that was said and done with deep interest.

"That course will take the ship to a point off Ushant, which is an island near the coast of France, not far from Brest," replied Paul, who took especial pleasure in explaining to her the working of the vessel.

"How far is it from here?"

"From the Bill of Portland, which is the land you see astern of us, the distance to Ushant is one hundred and fifty-seven miles."

"How long will it take us to go there?"

"That will depend entirely upon the wind," laughed Paul. "We are logging ten knots just now, which would bring us off Ushant about ten o'clock to-morrow forenoon. But the wind is going down, and we may not get there till to-morrow night."

"Well, I'm in no hurry; and I rather hope it will not blow very hard," added Grace.

"That's just my wish. If the water only holds out, I don't care."

"But there is something more for the Grand Protectress to do," said Grace.

"A dozen more who are to take the first degree; but I do not know whether they will be willing to be initiated."

"Why not?"

"Raymond, who is generally a good fellow, has been very ugly. Perhaps he feels better now he has quenched his thirst."

"May I speak to him?"

"Certainly, if you wish to do so."

Paul conducted the Grand Protectress to the waist, where the head steward was giving the Raymond party another half pint of water apiece. They were very thirsty, and, as boys understand the word, they had doubtless suffered a great deal for the want of water. As they had returned to their duty, and yielded the point, Mr. Lowington had directed that they should be frequently supplied, until they were satisfied. The general opinion was, that they had already been severely punished, not only by the thirst they had endured, augmented as it was by their diet of salt beef and hard bread, but in the mortification they had experienced at the failure of their scheme. The latter punishment was quite as severe as the former.

"Miss Arbuckle wishes to speak to you, Raymond," said Paul, addressing the discomfited leader of the mild party.

"What for?" demanded he.

"She will explain for herself."

"Does she want to preach to me?"

"I think not. Of course you are not compelled to see her, if you don't wish to do so," added Paul, who could not see why any one should not wish to converse with Grace.

"I will hear what she has to say," said Raymond, with a condescension which Paul did not like.

The commodore presented the delinquent to the young lady. Raymond touched his cap, and bowed politely.

"I am very glad to see you on deck, Mr. Raymond, for I have wished to make your acquaintance since last evening," Grace began.

"Thank you. I was not aware that I had any claims upon your consideration."

"I see you wear no ribbon. Shall I furnish you with one?"

"I don't know what it is for?" said Raymond, glancing at the white ribbon on the commodore's breast. "What does it mean?"

"I can't tell you anything about it just yet. I suppose you are very sorry for what you have done."

"I feel better since I have had a drink of water," replied Raymond, good-naturedly; and there was no doubt that he spoke the literal truth.

"I regret that it was necessary to deprive you of water."

"It was not my fault. I had nothing to do with emptying the water tanks," pleaded the culprit. "It was the runaways who did that."

"Then you were in bad company."

"I think so myself," answered Raymond, candidly, for he was still under the influence of the clinching argument which had induced him to come on deck.

At this point the conversation was interrupted by the call of the principal, who summoned the Raymond party into his presence on the quarter-deck.

"Are you satisfied?" asked Mr. Lowington, with a pleasant smile on his face, when the rebels had assembled before him.

"No, sir," replied Raymond, promptly, and before any other of the party could give a different answer.

"Why did you come on deck, then?"

"We couldn't stand it any longer without water."

"Is that the reason why you came on deck?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you may return to your former diet till you are satisfied," added the principal, pleasantly.

"We don't wish to do that, sir."

"Didn't I understand you to say that you were not satisfied."

"I am not, sir," continued Raymond, stoutly. "I don't think it was fair to—"

"Stop!" interposed the principal, rather sharply. "I do not purpose to listen to your grievances. You have undertaken to redress them yourselves, and I see no reason why you should not persevere till you are satisfied."

"We can't live on salt junk and hard bread without any water, sir."

"Can't you, indeed? You should have thought of that before you joined hands with those who started the water out of the tanks."

"We did not even know that they meant to start the water, or, afterwards, that they had done it, till the cook said so. We are not responsible for what they did."

"Perhaps not; yet you were in the hold, in full fellowship with them. But I do not intend to argue the matter with you."

"We are ready to return to our duty, sir, whether we are satisfied or not," added Raymond.

"O, you are?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, as long as you are willing to do your duty, I suppose it does not matter whether you are satisfied or not."

Raymond made no reply, and could not help wondering that he had been so simple as to believe the principal would ask an explanation of mutineers.

"Are you willing to obey all orders?" continued Mr. Lowington.

"Yes, sir."

"And the others?"

"Yes, sir," replied Raymond's followers.

"Will you refrain from all communication with those in the steerage who still refuse to do duty?"

"I will," answered Raymond, who had before made up his mind to do this.

"Especially you will not inform them of anything which takes place on deck, or give them the benefit of any explanation you may hear," said the principal. "Those who assent to these terms will walk over to windward."

The party, who could not help wondering at this singular treatment of what they regarded as a very difficult matter, walked squarely up to the weather-rail of the ship, and halted there. The remarks of the principal, and the pledge he exacted, seemed to explain the strange conduct of the white and the blue ribbon bands in the steerage. No one had been able to ascertain definitely what those badges meant.

"Very well. I am satisfied, if you are not," said Mr. Lowington, mildly. "You deserve punishment, but it shall depend upon your future conduct whether you receive it or not. You will go forward."

When the party reached the waist, they were confronted by Grace and Paul.

"You have promised to be faithful—have you not?" asked she.

"Yes; but I'm not satisfied," replied the leader.

"Then I confer upon you the first degree of the Order of the Faithful," added Grace. "Its emblem is a yellow ribbon;" and she pinned the decoration upon Raymond's breast.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

She explained its meaning, and then initiated his companions.

"How happens it that we have yellow ribbon while others have white or blue ones?" asked Lindsley.

"Because you have taken only the first degree, being the last ones to come. If you do well, and are faithful, you shall be raised to the second, and then to the third degree," replied Grace, with a vivacity which was not at all impaired by the laughter of the initiates, who, as others before them had, regarded the order as a pleasant joke.

"When you have proved yourselves worthy, you will be advanced to the second degree by the Grand Protectress," added Paul. "The motto of the concern is, 'Vous ne pouvez pas faire un sifflet de la queue d'un cochon;' and I think you have fully proved the truth of the saying. The meaning of the sentence is one of the secrets of the order. Do you promise not to reveal it?"

"I do, for one," laughed Lindsley. "I haven't the least idea myself what it means."

"Nor I," added all the others."

"Then you will all be discreet. The motto contains a very valuable moral lesson, which bears on your case, and I hope you will take it to heart," said Paul.

"I should like to take it to head first," replied Lindsley.

"I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Raymond," continued Grace.

"Not at all. I am willing to do my duty, rather than be starved on salt junk, and choked to death for the want of water; but I am not satisfied."

"Not satisfied!" exclaimed Grace. "Not after you have been initiated into the noble and magnanimous Circle of the Order of the Faithful!"

"Not much!"

"You should say, 'Nicht viel,' when you want to use that expression," laughed Grace, who did not like American slang, and had already partially cured Paul, who had a slight tendency in that direction.

"Well, nicht viel, then. It was not fair, when we had been promised a trip into Germany, to send us off to sea, just to please Shuffles."

"Captain Shuffles is a good young man. If you say anything against him, you shall be expelled from the Order of the Faithful!"

"Well, I won't say anything against him, then, Miss Arbuckle; but they say the ship is bound for Belfast."

"Do you see that land, Mr. Raymond?" she added, pointing to the light on the headland.

"I do."

"What land is it?"

"I don't know."

"It is the Bill of Portland. Now, which way is the ship headed?"

"About south-west," replied Raymond, after looking through the skylight at the tell-tale in the steerage.

"South-west by west, half west," she added.

"Bully for you!"

"Instead of that, you should say, "Bulle fuer ihnen." In other words, you should utter all your slang in German: it sounds better."

"I only meant to say that you reeled off the course like a regular old salt," laughed Raymond.

"If the ship were bound to Belfast, its course would be nearer west. We are not going to Belfast. We are going to Brest. Mr. Lowington said the ship's company needed a little exercise to perfect the discipline, and to save the trouble and expense of going into the dock at Havre, the vessels will be left in the harbor of Brest. He never had a thought of giving up the trip down the Rhine."

"Is that so?" asked the leader of the mild rebels.

Paul repeated the explanation to the penitents which the principal had given the day before.

"We understood that we were going to sea just to please Shuffles," said Lindsley.

"The captain certainly wanted better discipline, and he did propose a day or two at sea for its improvement," added Paul.

"I don't care for two or three days at sea, if we are to go to the Rhine," continued Raymond. "I'm satisfied now."

The conversation was continued till the starboard watch was piped to supper. Raymond was fully satisfied now that he had made a fool of himself, and, what was even worse, that he and his companions had been the dupes of the runaways. Those who belonged in the starboard watch were permitted to go to the table, and they did ample justice to the cold roast beef, butter toast, and tea which covered the mess tables. Peaks and the head steward paced the steerage, as before, and no one without a ribbon was allowed to partake. At six o'clock, after the port watch had been relieved, the second supper was served, and the rest of the hungry and thirsty delinquents enjoyed the change in their bill of fare.

Then the runaways sat down to their supper of salt beef and hard bread, without tea or water. The food did not suit them, and they turned up their noses at it. The thirst created by their salt breakfast in the morning had required large draughts upon their water bottles, and before dinner they had exhausted the supply. They were very thirsty, though none of them were actually suffering. The fact that they could not get any water made them want it all the more. They ate none of the salt meat, which by this time was loathsome to them. Ship bread was dry feed, and they could eat very little of it. Doubtless it was a hard case for them, the sons of rich men; but they had only to obey the boatswain's pipe, and "eat, drink, and be filled."

"I can't stand this," said Monroe, when a group of them had gathered in their mess-room after the unpalatable supper.

"Can't you? What's the reason you can't?" growled Howe.

"I'm almost choked."

"So am I," added several others.

"Are you going to back out?" demanded the leader.

"Rather than perish with thirst, I am," answered Herman.

"What's the use? All the rest of the fellows have deserted us," added Ibbotson. "Even Raymond is sporting a yellow ribbon, and is as jolly as a lord now."

"We can't make anything by it," said Monroe. "I move you we back out, and get a drink of water. All hands will be called at eight bells, I think, to put on more sail."

"No, no! Don't back out," interposed Howe. "We haven't made ourselves felt yet."

"That's so," groaned Herman. "No one takes any notice of us. Even those fellows that went up last won't speak to us, not even to answer a civil question. The principal evidently regards us with perfect contempt. I go in for doing something, or backing out. As it is, we are making a milk-and-water affair of it. We are starved and choked. That's all we have to show for what we have done."

"Why don't you preach, and say, 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' or something of that sort, which is original," snarled Howe.

"I should judge from your talk that you did not feel very good," added Herman.

"I don't; I'm as dry as any of you, but I have no idea of backing out."

"What are you going to do? What's to be the end of this?" demanded Ibbotson. "I've got enough of it."

"That seems to be the general opinion," continued Herman.

"Where's Little?" demanded Howe, who could not help realizing that the fortunes of the last of the mutineers were becoming desperate, and that it was not an easy thing to contend against such enemies as hunger and thirst. "I shall not give it up so. Let us do something. Let us make ourselves felt, even if we are hanged for it."

"What can we do?" inquired Herman, earnestly. "We are caged here like a lot of donkeys, and I have had enough of it."

"Will you hold on for a couple of hours longer, fellows?" persisted Howe.

"I will hold on till the boatswain calls all hands, and not an instant longer," replied Herman. "My tongue feels as though it were cracking with thirst."

Howe rushed out of the room to find Little, who was the man of expedients for the runaways. He found him in an adjoining room, and stated the case to him. The little villain was as uncomfortable and unhappy as the rest of the mutineers, and, to the surprise of Howe, counselled yielding rather than suffering any longer.

"I didn't think that of you, Little," sneered Howe.

"Didn't you? Well, it's only a question as to who can stand it the longest on a diet of salt horse without water," replied Little. "I can hold out as long as any fellow; but we shall not make anything by it. If we could, I would stick."

"Let us do something, at least, to make a sensation before we give in. I don't like the idea of being conquered just in this way."

"What can we do?"

"Let us set the ship afire, or bore holes in the bottom," whispered Howe.

"Of course, you don't mean anything of that sort," added Little, with a grim smile.

"I would rather do it than be whipped out in this manner. I never felt so cheap and mean in my life," continued Howe, kicking the front of the berth, and pounding with his fist to indicate the intensity of his wrath.

"Nor I either; but what are you going to do about it."

"Well, you furnish gumption for the crowd, and I came to ask you what to do. Our fellows' backs are broken, and they will go on deck when the boatswain's pipe sounds again."

"I shall go with them," replied Little, quietly.

"Can't we get into the hold, and find some water?"

"No; Bitts put a lock on that scuttle this morning, and the forward officers are watching all the time. You can set the ship afire if you like. I don't think of anything else you can do to make yourself felt."

"I'll do it!" exclaimed Howe.

"No, you won't," added Little, mildly.

"What's the reason I won't?"

"You dare not."

"You see!" said the discomfited leader, bolting out of the room.

Some men, and some boys, are the most easily overwhelmed by letting them severely alone. If Howe could have made a sensation, he would have been better satisfied, even if he had been committed to the brig. He was vain and proud, and it hurt him more to be ignored than to be beaten. It was questionable whether he was desperate enough to put his savage threat into execution; but he collected a pile of books and papers in his mess-room, and declared his intention to Herman, Monroe, and others, who were his messmates. No student was allowed to have matches, and he lacked the torch to fire the incendiary pile.

"Don't be an idiot, Howe!" said Herman, disgusted with the conduct of his leader.

"I'm going to do something," persisted he.

"You are not going to do that."

"Yes, I am! As soon as the steward leaves the steerage, I shall borrow one of the lanterns, and there will be a blaze down here."

"No, there won't!"

"What's the reason there won't?"

"The fellows won't let you do any such thing. A fellow is a fool to burn his own ship at sea."

"Of course it won't burn up; but it will bring Lowington down here, and he will find out we are somebody."

"Nonsense!"

"But I mean it."

"No, you don't! It is all buncombe."

"You wait and see if it is. If I can only bring Lowington down here, and see him scared out of his wits, I shall be satisfied. I shall be willing to go into the brig, then, and stay there for the rest of the cruise."

"You are a fool, Howe."

"I'm desperate."

"You shall not kindle any fire here. If you say you mean to do it, I will call Peaks at once."

"I said it, and I'll do it," said Howe, leaving the room.

His messmates followed him. The steward had left the steerage, and Howe, in order to take down the lantern, leaped upon a stool. Herman kicked it from beneath him, and he fell upon the floor.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Howe, with clinched fists.

"Don't you touch that lantern—that's all!"

"Yes, I will;" and he tried to mount the stool again.

Herman, Ibbotson, and Monroe seized him, and dragged him back into the room. The noise attracted the attention of the rest of the mutineers, and some others, who were below.

"Go, and call Peaks, Monroe," said Herman. "I will hold him till you come back."

"Don't do that," interposed the desperate leader, becoming suddenly calm, and apparently reasonable. "You are all cowards. Let me alone. I might as well yield, with such milk-and-water fellows around me. Don't say anything to Peaks."

"You are a bigger fool than I thought you were," added Herman, taking no pains to conceal his disgust at the conduct of his leader.

"All hands, on deck, ahoy!" piped the boatswain.

All hands, Howe included, answered the call. The mutiny was ended.



CHAPTER X.

WHAT THE RUNAWAYS WERE GOING TO DO.

It was an astonishingly stupid mutiny, not relieved, even a shade, by the sensational conduct of Howe, the leader, in its last moments, that terminated twenty-four hours after its commencement, on board of the Young America. However, it was hardly more stupid than any other wilful evil-doing. Captain Shuffles, like the potentates of the old world, wishing to have his accession to power signalized by an act of clemency, had pleaded earnestly that the runaways might be forgiven, and permitted to visit Germany with the rest of the ship's company. Mr. Lowington had endeavored to reconcile the granting of the request with his views of discipline. It is not necessary to ask with what success he considered the matter, for the delinquents had now effectually put it out of his power to grant them any favor.

The fog had lifted, and from the north-west came up the clearing of the blue sky, as the sun went down. The wind had moderated, though the sea still rolled uneasily in the channel. The principal had directed the head steward to estimate the supply of water on board, and on his report had decided that the ship should proceed directly to Brest. She had been under easy sail, but as soon as the course was given to the captain, he called all hands. For the first time since the departure from Havre, all hands answered the call. Though it was quite dark, the presence of the runaways was promptly recognized. The volunteer officers, who were serving as seamen, were directed to take their regular stations in working ship.

The water breaker in the waist was in demand, as soon as the last of the mutineers came on deck; and without a word in regard to the past, the steward served them out a pint of water apiece. Their prompt attention to the water ration caused a smile among the Faithful, and the officers considerately deferred further orders until their pressing want was supplied.

"Shall we admit them to the Order of the Faithful?" said Grace to the commodore, when it was announced that the bottom had dropped out of the mutiny.

"I think not," replied Paul. "They have been the cause of all the trouble on board, and Mr. Lowington does not wish that anything should be said to them. They are the ones who emptied the water tanks."

"Really, I don't think they deserve to be admitted to the Order of the Faithful—at least, not till they have proved their fidelity to duty."

"Raymond, and those who came on deck before, are generally very good fellows; and we all believe now that they were led away by the runaways," added Paul. "We shall soon see whether all hands intend to do their duty."

When the thirsty ones had been supplied with water, the order to set the courses was given, and the runaways severally took their stations, and performed their duty without making any confusion. The top-gallant-sails and royals were then shaken out. The discipline now seemed to be perfect, and the principal's method of dealing with the mutiny was fully justified, though he took pains to explain to some of the professors that he did not consider this treatment practicable in all cases. The conduct of the rebels, and the facts developed, indicated that they wished to be noticed; that they believed the ship could not sail without their permission and assistance. This blunder was fatal to all their calculations, and they were unable to "make themselves felt."

But the runaways were no better satisfied than Raymond had been; and though they performed their duty in setting sail with entire precision, they were sour and morose. The sting of an overwhelming defeat thorned them. They were mortified, humiliated, and crest-fallen. They were enraged at the conduct of their rebellious companions of the milder stripe, who had deserted them, and they were reaping the general consequences of evil-doing. They did their work, but when it was done they avoided their shipmates, and even avoided each other. Howe had ruined himself as a leader by his silly conduct, and there was not likely to be any further concerted action among them.

Mr. Lowington had faithfully followed out his plan, and had directed Mr. Fluxion to adopt the same treatment for those who refused to do duty in the Josephine—to keep them in the steerage, and feed them on sailors' fare. The result of the treatment in the consort was yet to be learned, for she had not been seen since the supply of water had been procured from her.

At midnight the wind blew fresh from the north-west, and with all sails set, the ship logged twelve knots. The three lights on the Casquets, at the western extremity of the Channel Islands were in sight, and the prospect of seeing Ushant early in the forenoon was good. As all hands were now on duty, the system of quarter watches was restored, so that each part could have six hours of uninterrupted sleep. There was nothing for the watch on deck to do, except to steer, and keep a lookout; and there was a great deal of discussion about mutiny in general, and the Young America mutiny in particular. It was generally conceded even by the rebels, that it "did not pay."

After the runaways had in some measure recovered from the first blush of defeat, some of them wanted to know about the ribbons; but the members of the Order of the Faithful did not consider themselves authorized to impart the secrets of the organization, and declined to explain them. Doubtless they enjoyed the mystery, and desired to keep it up for their own amusement. Howe, when he found a tongue, reproached his companions in mischief for their cowardice, and boasted of what great things would have been accomplished if they had supported him to the end; but his most intimate associates were disgusted with him, and avoided him as much as possible.

At seven bells in the morning, a breakfast of coffee, mutton chops, potatoes, and hot biscuit put most of the runaways in the port watch in better humor than before, and another did a similar service for those in the starboard watch half an hour later. They ate and drank all they could, rather than all they needed, and probably shuddered when they thought of the consequences of evil-doing, as embodied in salt beef and hard bread, without a drop of water.

At one bell in the forenoon watch, the lookout in the foretop shouted, "Land, ho, on the lee bow." An hour after, the bold rugged shores of Ushant were plainly in sight, and Dr. Winstock informed Paul and Grace that they were in the very waters where the English fleet, under Admiral Sir Edward Hawkes, had won the great naval victory over the French in 1759.

"Sail, ho!" shouted the lookout.

"Where away?" called the officer forward.

"On the weather bow. It's a topsail schooner, and looks like the Josephine."

Glasses were in demand, and the officers soon satisfied themselves that the sail ahead was the consort. It was evident that, hugging the wind closely, she had gone farther from the coast than the Young America. She took a pilot off Ushant, and continued on her course, though Mr. Lowington was anxious to communicate with her, and learn the result of the mutiny which had also prevailed on board. Off the island, the ship was boarded by a pilot, and following the Josephine, passed through the Goulet de Brest, which is the only entrance to the harbor. This passage is not more than a mile wide, and is defended on each side by strong forts. The harbor is a land-locked bay, deep enough for vessels of the largest class, and with space enough to accommodate, at least, five hundred of them. Brest is the most important naval station of France, and its fortress and docks were full of interest to the young tourists. The city, which contains a population of eighty thousand, is built on the summit and slopes of a hill, some of the streets upon whose sides are so steep as to be impassable for vehicles.

The Josephine had already come to anchor, and the ship followed her example, taking position as near to her as it was safe to lie. As usual, when the vessels came into port, there was a great excitement on board, for new sights and sounds are peculiarly agreeable after the voyager comes from the monotony of the swelling ocean; and the students made the most of them. In coming into port, all hands had been on duty; and after the sails had all been furled, Captain Shuffles declared that he was perfectly satisfied with the discipline of his crew. The runaways, who were generally good seamen, whatever else they were, did not deem it prudent to "pipe to mischief" again, or to attempt to create any confusion. All eyes were fixed on them if anything went amiss, and if they were disposed to do wrong, they made a merit of necessity. But Brest was an old story to them, and brought up unpleasant memories. They knew the harbor, and were familiar with the sights, having served on board of the Josephine in this port for three weeks after the runaway cruise. Indeed, their knowledge of the harbor brought them into favor with others, who asked them many questions about the objects to be seen.

After everything was made snug on board of the ship, the yards squared, and every rope hauled taut in man-of-war style, the first cutter was lowered, and the principal visited the Josephine. As he went over the side, he saw Adler, Phillips, and others of the runaways, who belonged to the consort, on deck, and he concluded that his plan had worked as well in her as in the ship.

"Well, Mr. Fluxion," said he, as he grasped the hand of his able assistant, "I see the Josephine has not yet been taken away from you."

"No, sir. We had but a dozen mutineers on board," replied the vice-principal, "and they are about the sickest dogs you ever saw. I kept them in the steerage, and fed them on salt beef and hard bread, as you suggested to me."

"Did you give them any water?"

"Not a drop. After I learned that your ruffians had stove the water tanks, I concluded they were all in the same boat, and that my fellows were as responsible for the deed as yours. I suppose it was all a contrived plan before we left Havre."

"I don't know whether it was or not. I should have treated it in a different manner if the young rascals had not dragged in a large number of the students who seldom give us any trouble."

"The plan worked well, though I did not very strongly approve of it at first. Last night, the rebels sent for me, and begged, with tears in their eyes, to be permitted to return to their duty, promising to be faithful as long as they remained on board. I gave them a pretty severe lecture, but they declared they had nothing to do with staving the water tanks in the ship, and did not know anything about it. I'm not apt to believe what those fellow say."

"It matters little whether they knew it or not; they certainly agreed together to refuse to do duty. Well, they have come to their senses now, and both vessels seem to be in good order. Of course, after what has happened, it is not proper to take these mischief-makers with us into Germany," added Mr. Lowington.

"Certainly not," replied Mr. Fluxion, promptly.

"Then, as you are going to Italy, what shall be done with them while we are absent?" asked the principal, anxiously.

"My sister, who intends to spend the winter in Italy with her husband, desires to see me on a matter of business connected with her private property. As she is an invalid, I think she wishes to consult me in regard to the disposition of her estate, so that her children may enjoy it after her decease; for, as I have told you before, her husband is not a reliable man. If it were a matter of any less consequence, I would not think of leaving."

"Undoubtedly it is your duty to go, and you must do so. But I do not like the idea of leaving thirty such students as Howe, Little, and Phillips in the sole charge of Dr. Carboy. He is a good man; but he has not quite tact and energy enough for such a responsibility."

"Suppose I take them with me," suggested Mr. Fluxion, with a smile.

"That is hardly practicable."

"I mean in the Josephine," added the vice-principal.

"It's a long voyage round through the Strait of Gibraltar."

"I am in no hurry to reach Italy. How long shall you be absent in Germany?"

"About three weeks."

"Say twenty-one days," said Mr. Fluxion, musing. "The Josephine is a fast vessel. Under the most favorable circumstances, she would make the run in eight days. A fair passage would be twelve days. If I remain one day in Genoa, where my sister lives, the cruise would last twenty-five days."

"A few days' time, or a week, is of no consequence," added Mr. Lowington.

"But suppose you take the ship to Lisbon, on your return, and I will meet you there, say about the twenty-seventh or eighth of the month."

"I rather like the plan; but isn't it a little hard on the boys?"

"Not at all. It's giving them plenty of sea-service; but that is what they need for their complaint. We shall feed them well on fresh provisions, and it is a pleasant trip up the Mediterranean at this season of the year. But I only mention the idea to solve the difficulty you suggest."

"I will consider the matter, and give you an answer before night," added Mr. Lowington, thoughtfully.

"If the plan is adopted, I should like to have Peaks and Bitts with me, to act as watch officers with Cleats and Gage."

"You shall have them," replied Mr. Lowington, as he directed the officer of the boat to call his crew, who had been permitted to come on board.

In the first cutter's crew were three of the runaways, who had taken the opportunity to communicate with Adler, Phillips, and other of the runaways in the consort. After each party had related to the other its experience in rebellion, and commented on its unsatisfactory results, they touched upon the old topic—how to get to Paris, where remittances from their friends were waiting for most of them.

"Old Carboy is to have charge of us while the crowd are gone," said Sheffield, irreverently. "We can easily come it over him."

"If we can only get on shore, we are all right," added Phillips.

"Only we have no money to pay our fare to Paris," interposed Adler.

"I can raise some," suggested Sheffield. "My father sent me a letter of credit on a Paris banker; but any banker will let me have some money on it, if I draw on Paris in his favor."

"That's the idea!" exclaimed Adler. "I have a letter also."

"But we are not to go together this time," added Little.

"Any way, if we are only to go," said Phillips, as the coxswain of the first cutter called away his crew, and ended the conversation.

It was renewed as soon as the ship was reached and the boat hauled up. The runaways had abandoned all thought of joining the excursion to the Rhine; and "how to get away" was an exciting topic to them. In the tops, out on the bowsprit, and in other secluded places, small knots of them gathered to discuss the subject. Promises made to do better were forgotten, and the bitter experience of the past was wholly ignored. If they could get away from the ship or the consort,—in whichever one they were to be confined,—they would make amends for all their sufferings and all their humiliations. Herman and Little were especially earnest, though they still avoided their late leader, Howe. Perth was regarded as lost to them, for he wore a white ribbon on his breast, and had done his duty as an officer.

"We will all be pious for a day or two, till Carboy closes his eyes," said Little. "You, and Ibbotson, and I will look out for ourselves, and the rest of the fellows must do the same. I have an idea."

"Have you? What is it?" demanded Herman.

"We shall all be sent on board the Josephine as soon as the lambs get ready to start for Germany."

"Yes, I suppose so," added Herman, eagerly.

"Then it will be an easy matter. But I don't want to talk about it yet. Too many cooks spoil the soup," continued Little, with his air of mysterious assurance.

"Tell us what it is. We won't mention it."

"I've got it all arranged; and if the rest of our fellows are smart, they can take advantage of it. We all know this harbor pretty well," added the little villain.

"Why don't you tell us what the idea is?"

Little rose from his seat in the main-top, and looked over to see that no inquisitive person was concealed on the cat-harpings.

"You are not to mention it to any one, you understand, or hint at it. We three, I repeat, are to look out for ourselves only. Ibbotson is to find the money to get to Paris, and I furnish the brains."

"What am I to find?"

"Find your way to Paris, if you can. You are a good fellow, Herman, and I will take you in because you are some punkins."

"But you haven't told us the plan," said Ibbotson, not particularly pleased with the self-sufficiency of his little companion.

"I will tell you," whispered Little, throwing an arm around the neck of each of his friends, and drawing their heads together near his mouth. "At night, when everything is quiet, one of us will just unbit the cable, and let it run out. Then another shall sing out that the vessel is going adrift. That will make a row. Then we will try to do something. You, Herman, and I, will offer to carry a line to another vessel—the ship, for instance. Carboy—who don't know any more about a vessel than a kitten does of the ten commandments—will tell you to do it. Then we three will jump into a boat, and carry off the line. We can carry it to the ship, or not, just as we think best; but you may bet your life we don't return to the Josephine! How does that strike you?"

"Yes; but where are Cleats and Gage all this time? They know all about a vessel, if Carboy don't," suggested Herman.

"Wherever you please," replied Little, confidently.

"Suppose they happen to be on deck, and are disposed to take the boat and carry out the line themselves?"

"So much the better! Thanks to the prudence and good management of the principal, there are four boats belonging to the Josephine," answered the little villain, who appeared to have provided for every emergency which could possibly occur. "The moment the boatswain and carpenter are clear of the vessel, we will suggest that another line ought to be carried to some other vessel; and Mr. Carboy will see the necessity of the measure."

"Perhaps he won't see it," interposed Ibbotson.

"Then I'll fall overboard."

"Fall overboard?"

"Precisely so," replied Little.

"I don't see what that has to do with it," said Herman.

"Don't you? Well, I hope you and Ibbotson would have the courage and the energy to save me from a watery grave, and all that sort of thing."

"What! jump in after you?" inquired Herman.

"No! How heavy your wits are to-day! You need not dampen your trousers. Just drop the fourth cutter into the water, pick me up, and then we will find our way to the shore."

"Some other fellows might take it into their heads to rescue you from a watery grave, and all that sort of thing," added Herman.

"If they do, so much the better for them. You and Ibbotson must make sure that you get into the boat, whoever else does. There will be no officers to bother, unless Perth happens to be left on board. If he is, all right. He will know what to do. If the other fellows don't want to go to Paris with us, or rather on their own hook, they can return to the vessel, and mildly break it to the professor, that we were all drowned. There will not be a particle of trouble about the business. There are twenty other ways of managing the case. As soon as the lambs are off, and we are put on board of the Josephine, we will arrange everything."

"Perhaps we shall remain in the ship," suggested Herman.

"So much the worse for the ship, for her cable can be unbitted, as well as the schooner's."

"That's so."

"In the dark, with the ship adrift and liable to be thrown on shore, or to run afoul of another vessel, there will be a big excitement, and we can do anything we wish. When the rest of the fellows see what is up, they can take care of themselves," continued Little, who did not believe in the possibility of a failure.

"Very well; we will suppose we get on shore all right—what then? We shall be in Brest, which is a fortified city, with gates through which none can pass without permission," said Ibbotson.

"Never mind the gates. We shall leave by railroad for Paris. As soon as you raise some money to pay for the tickets, I will take care of the rest."

"I have no doubt we can raise the money. My father sent me a letter of credit for five hundred francs. I heard my cousin say he could get money in any large city on his letter of credit, for the bankers know each other," added Ibbotson.

"If he had only sent you a circular letter of credit, you could draw almost anywhere," said Herman.

"Well, if we can't raise any money on the letter, I have a gold watch that cost about a hundred dollars in New York. I can raise two hundred francs on it, and redeem it when we come back," continued Ibbotson.

"That's the talk!" exclaimed Little. "I like to see energy in a fellow. There isn't a ghost of a doubt in my mind but that we shall be in Paris in two or three days from now."

This interesting conversation was interrupted by the boatswain's call, piping all hands to muster. The crew were then drilled for an hour in all the evolutions of getting under way, and making sail. The runaways dared not repeat the experiments which had been tried with so much apparent success at Havre, for they feared the squadron would be sent to sea again if the drill was not perfect. The various movements were admirably performed, and entirely to the satisfaction of Captain Shuffles. The ship's company were then piped to dinner. When they came on deck, the signal, "All hands, attend lecture," was flying on board the ship. This was a hopeful sign for those who were impatient to visit the Rhine, and most of the crew were ready to hear Professor Mapps's description of Germany.

While the ship's company were waiting for the arrival of the Josephine's, a very interesting ceremony was performed in the waist. The Grand Protectress of the Order of the Faithful raised the members of the second degree to the third, adorning them with the white ribbon. They had been faithful in the discharge of all their duties, and Grace insisted that all the members should now stand on an equal footing. Those who wore the yellow ribbon were advanced to the second degree; but Grace promised them that if they listened attentively to the lecture, they should receive the white ribbon before night.

With the crew of the Josephine came Mr. Fluxion, who immediately retired to the main cabin with the principal, where the further details of the cruise to Genoa were discussed. It was finally agreed that the vice-principal's plan should be adopted, and that the Josephine should sail as early the next day as she could be fitted out for the voyage. The two vessels were to meet at Lisbon, near the end of the month, and from that port proceed on the homeward voyage. Peaks and Gage were sent for, and were very willing to be temporarily transferred to the consort; while Leach was to remain as ship-keeper, in charge of the Young America, during the absence of the party in Germany.

While the professor was engaged upon his lecture in the steerage, Mr. Fluxion returned to the consort with the two forward officers, and, taking in the head steward, proceeded to the shore. In half an hour a water boat was alongside the Josephine, filling up the water tanks and casks. Later in the day several shore boats came off to deliver the provisions and supplies which the steward had purchased. Before night the Josephine was ready for the long cruise up the Mediterranean, though none of the students on board of the ship knew that anything unusual was in progress.



CHAPTER XI.

A SHORT LECTURE ON GERMANY.

In answer to the summons of the boatswain, "All hands, attend lecture, ahoy!" both ships' companies assembled in the steerage of the Young America. The Arbuckles had seats near the foremast, on which the professor displayed his maps, diagrams, and other illustrations of his teachings. These lectures were received with different degrees of favor by various students. While such as Paul Kendall, Shuffles, Gordon, and Tremere regarded them as very valuable privileges, others considered them as intolerable bores. Some were interested in a portion of the descriptions and historical details, others closed their ears to the whole, though all listened to anything that could be considered a story.

The runaways were among those who regarded the present lecture—since they did not expect to visit Germany—as an intolerable nuisance. They were careful to select places where they could listen or not, without attracting the attention of the professor. Herman and Perth had seated themselves near one of the gangways before the boatswain sounded the call. The latter held a very doubtful position on board. Although he wore the white ribbon of the Order of the Faithful, it was a problem whether he was in sympathy with the objects of the institution. He had declined to serve as a seaman in place of the mutineers; but in spite of his refusal, he took his place at the capstan, and went aloft when the order was given to shake out the topsails. He did not like the idea of being alone, and if he did not formally recant in so many words, he did so by his actions. No fault could be found with him, so far as the faithful discharge of his duty was concerned; still his position was not altogether satisfactory.

Not only the faculty and the officers were in doubt in regard to his standing, but also his former associates. He had done nothing to indicate his regret for the past, on the one hand, and nothing to assure his runaway friends that he was still in sympathy with them. The principal did not know where to put him, and, consequently, was unable to decide whether or not he should be relieved from the penalty of his transgressions in the Josephine, and be permitted to accompany the party to Germany.

"Are you going to the Rhine with the rest of the fellows, Perth?" asked Herman, as they seated themselves at the opening of Gangway B.

"That's more than I know; but I suppose not, for I am considered too wicked," replied the master, lightly.

"I thought you had joined the lambs."

"Nicht viel!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Not much!"

"We all thought so. You have hardly spoken a word to one of our fellows since you went into the cabin," added Herman.

"Well, I've prayed for you all the same. I declined to take a seaman's place when you fellows in the steerage slopped over, and wouldn't come to time."

"You didn't, though!"

"I did, though; but I couldn't stand alone, and I sort of backed out, just as the rest of you did, and went to work at the braces and buntlines."

"Then you really are not a lamb?"

"Not if I know myself! I didn't do anything to get into the cabin; so it isn't my fault that I'm there. Whether I go to the Rhine or not, I suppose it is certain enough that the rest of our fellows will not."

"No; we have spoiled all our chances."

"There's no doubt of that," laughed Perth.

"But we are going to Paris," added Herman, in a whisper. "We have the wires all laid down."

"Are you, though?" said Perth, deeply interested in the communication. "I should like to go with you."

"But we are not going in a bunch; only two or three in a squad. Don't say anything to any of our fellows about it."

"I never says nothing to nobody," laughed Perth. "But I want to know more about it."

"The arrangements are all made, and I don't think there is any chance to fail."

"Good!"

But the professor commenced his lecture at this point, and the steerage was hushed, so that it was not prudent even to whisper. The students were all required, at these lectures, to be prepared with paper and pencils, so that they could take notes, especially of dates and statistics.

"Our party consists of Little, Ibbotson and myself," Herman wrote on his paper, which he placed so that Perth could read it.

"Have you any stamps?" Perth wrote.

"No; but Ibbotson has a letter of credit on which he can raise some."

"My uncle, in Glasgow, sent me twenty pounds—four five-pound notes—at the request of my father. I got it at Havre," wrote Perth. "I will join you in Paris if I go to Germany; if not, I will start with you. Pop. N. Ger., 28 mill.; S. Ger., 12.5 mill.; total, 40.5 mill.; about equal to pop. of France."

The sudden change in the style of the second master's notes is accounted for by the fact that the principal entered the steerage at the moment indicated by the break in the conversation between the two runaways. They were in the rear of all the other students, and were fully exposed to Mr. Lowington's gaze as he passed out of the main cabin. Perhaps he did not think it was quite natural for such students as Perth and Herman to be engaged so industriously in taking notes; or it may be that his practised eye fully comprehended at a glance the nature of their occupation. The instant the door opened, Herman slyly slipped off the sheet on which he had been writing, and thrust it into his pocket. Perth had written over one of his small pages of note paper, and begun upon a second. He had, when his companion had read what he wrote upon it, slipped the first sheet into the atlas, which served as a desk for him.

Mr. Lowington walked to the vicinity of Gangway B, and paused there. Perth turned down the upper part of the sheet, on which he had written the last part of his message to Herman, so that nothing objectionable appeared on it, even if the principal took it into his head to look over his shoulder. Perth was not at all flurried—he was too old a rogue to commit himself by any weakness; and when he had written down the statement of the professor, he paused and looked at the speaker, as though he was wholly and entirely absorbed in the lecture. The entrance of Mr. Lowington caused many of the students to look behind them, as boys will do in school, on the smallest pretence. Mr. Mapps insisted upon the students' attention, and he paused till his hearers had gratified their curiosity.

Mr. Lowington did not appear to be quite satisfied with the conduct of Perth, and, reaching over the shoulder of the second master, he took the paper from the atlas. Of course this act produced a sensation among the boys; the most insignificant event creates a sensation in the school-room. Mr. Mapps lowered the pointer, and intimated by his actions that he did not intend to proceed till order was restored. Perth was confounded this time, if he never was before.

"What kind of a lecture are you delivering, Mr. Mapps?" asked the principal, with a smile.

"A lecture on Germany, such as I have usually given on these occasions."

"As this young gentleman writes it down, it seems to me rather a singular lecture. I will read it."

Perth wanted to drop through into the hold.

"'I will join you in Paris if I go to Germany; if not, I will start with you. Population North Germany, twenty-eight millions; South Germany, twelve and a half millions; total, forty and a half millions; about equal to population of France.' The latter part seems to be a little more germane than the first part. 'I will join you in Paris if I go to Germany,' is rather paradoxical, and I conclude that the young gentleman has not correctly reported this part of your lecture."

"I think not, sir," laughed Mr. Mapps. "I do not remember saying anything about going to Paris."

"Well, Mr. Perth, I recommend that you take a seat nearer to the professor, so that you can understand him better; for certainly you make very bad work of taking notes," added Mr. Lowington, as he pointed to a seat near the foremast.

Perth walked forward, and took the place indicated. Mr. Mapps proceeded with the lecture; but it is doubtful whether the second master understood him any better than before, he was so completely absorbed by the consideration of the little difficulty into which he had so heedlessly plunged himself. After all, the situation was not so bad as it might be. The principal could make nothing of the sentence he had read, and as nothing had been found upon Herman, he could trust to his ingenuity to explain away the meaning of it. So he used his brain in trying to devise a solution of the sentence which would satisfy the principal, instead of attending to the lecture, which he feared would have no practical value to him.

A large majority of the students were deeply interested in the remarks of the professor, and as they were to be in Germany in a few days, even the dry statistics were considerably valued. As it would not be civil to report the professor's lecture from the middle, where it was interrupted by the entrance of the principal, it is necessary to return to the commencement of it.

"What is the German for Germany?" asked the professor, as he picked up his pointer.

"Deutschland."

"The French?"

"Allemagne."

"Germany can hardly be called a nation, though in some respects it is similar to the United States. It is a confederation of nations, though the people speak the same language, and are united by many other common ties of manners and customs, as well as of contiguity of territory. But it is peculiar in some respects, as, Prussia is a nation, under its own king and laws; but only a portion of it belongs to Germany. Austria[1] is an empire, under its own emperor; but only a part of his dominions are represented in the Germanic Confederation. Its several states are united for some specific purposes, such as the collection of certain taxes, and mutual defence. In other respects its empires, kingdoms, duchies, &c., are independent nations, making their own laws, and regulating their own affairs."

[1] Professor Mapps describes Germany as it was before the war of 1866, and the subsequent reconstruction of North Germany. In "NORTHERN LANDS, OR YOUNG AMERICA IN PRUSSIA AND RUSSIA," the present status of Germany will be explained.

"I don't exactly understand the relations of Austria and Prussia to the Germanic Confederation," said Paul Kendall. "How can part of them belong to the confederation without the whole?"

"Very easily," replied the professor; "though, if you ask me why a part, and not the whole, of Prussia or Austria should be included in the Germanic Confederation, I cannot tell you, unless it be to preserve 'ancient landmarks.' The province of Prussia proper was not German; and that may be a very good reason why it never should be. Germany is a league of the several sovereignties into which the old German empire had fallen. The archduchy of Austria was, and Hungary was not, German, in the reign of the emperors. Holstein-Lauenburg[2] belongs to Denmark, but belongs, at the same time, to Germany. Of the eight provinces of Prussia, two are not included in the confederation. Of the twenty-one states or provinces which constitute the Austrian empire, eleven are German.

[2] Annexed to Prussia in 1866.

"I can see no good reason why, if the Germanic league is of any service, the provinces of Prussia and Posen should not be admitted, as well as the other six divisions of the kingdom of Prussia. We take the fact as we find it. Germany, then, is simply a union of states for certain purposes. It is not, in any proper sense, a nation. It does not send representatives to foreign countries, and it can make laws and regulations only to cover the purposes of the league.

"In 1863 there were thirty-four states represented in the confederation. The empire of Austria cast four votes in the general convention; the kingdoms of Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover, and Wuertemburg, also four each; other states, grand duchies, duchies, electorates, principalities, landgraviates, and free cities, from one to three, according to their size and importance. These representatives meet at Frankfort, which is the capital of Germany. The population of Northern Germany is about twenty-eight millions; of Southern Germany, twelve and a half millions; making about forty and a half millions, or about equal to that of France.

"Of the early history of Germany there is no authentic record. The ancient Romans had no knowledge of the people north of the Danube and east of the Rhine, except as the barbarous tribes who made incursions into their territory. When Gaul came into the possession of the Romans, they learned more of the barbarians of the north, who were called Germani—a word which is probably derived from ger, a spear, indicating their warlike character. Among these tribes were the Teutons, the Saxons, the Franks, the Goths, the Vandals, the Gauls, whose names are common in history. Clovis, the ancient sovereign of the Frankish empire, and his successors, conquered these tribes, and incorporated their territory in the Empire of the West, which reached the height of its glory under the reign of Charlemagne. His son Louis was too weak to rule so vast a realm, and in 843 the empire was divided into three parts, and given to his three sons. France became the portion of Charles the Bald; Italy, of Lothaire; and Germany, of Louis. At this time the German kingdom extended from the Rhine to the Elbe, and from the German Ocean to the Danube.

"During the succeeding century, Germany was partitioned into three smaller divisions, became a part of France again, and the throne was subverted by the nobles, who elected the kings. Portions of Italy, and other territory beyond the Elbe, were conquered. I will not weary you even by mentioning the line of kings who followed. Their dominions were torn by dissensions, while they struggled to increase their power. In 1273, Count Rudolph of Hapsburg was elected emperor, and, after a fierce struggle with the unruly barons, succeeded in establishing his authority, and in obtaining possession of the dukedom of Austria, and several other provinces. The house of Hapsburg has to the present time retained the throne of Austria.

"Jealous of the growing power of the Hapsburgs, the nobles elected Adolph, Count of Nassau, Emperor of Germany; but Albert, Rudolph's son and successor, wrested the crown from him. The Hapsburgs had possessions in Switzerland, when the house obtained its power in Austria, and they held them as dependencies upon the dukedom. The Swiss revolted in the reign of Albert, and their long and severe struggle for independence was commenced at this time.

"During the reign of Sigismund, one of the successors of Albert, John Huss, the reformer, was burned at the stake at Constance, whither he had gone with the safe-conduct of the emperor. His martyrdom caused the Hussite war, in which several severe battles were fought, including one at Prague. In 1593, Maximilian I. succeeded to the throne; and in his reign the Reformation by Luther began. Charles V., the grandson of Maximilian,—of whom I spoke to you in giving the history of Holland and Belgium,—united the crowns of Spain, Germany, the Netherlands, and Naples, and the empire became the leading power of Europe. The Reformation produced fierce dissensions and savage contests. Charles was obliged, sorely against his will, to grant privileges to his Lutheran subjects. But he was disgusted with power, and resigned his crown. He was succeeded by his brother, Ferdinand I., as Emperor of Germany, and by his son, Philip II., as King of Spain; to whom, also, he gave his possessions in the Netherlands. The dissensions in the empire enabled France on the west and Turkey on the east to wrest valuable possessions from it. The successors of Charles V. were unable to breast the storm of progress successfully, and the imperial authority was completely shattered. The power of the petty rulers of small states increased and overshadowed that of the central authority.

"The emperors Ferdinand and Matthias treated the Protestants with so much severity, committing the most flagrant outrages upon them, that it brought on the Thirty Years' War. When Matthias died, the insurgents declared the throne vacant, and chose the Elector Frederick emperor. The Protestant princes fought for him, while the Catholic powers sustained Ferdinand II., Archduke of Austria. Peace was established, by the treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, by which Germany lost a portion of her territory. After these events, the power of the emperors waned still more, until their title was little more than a surname of the rulers of Austria. When Prussia became a great Protestant power, under Frederick the Great, she was a check upon Austria, and prevented the latter from reestablishing the ancient power of the German empire.

"The French revolution practically destroyed the empire. Francis II. of Austria, overwhelmed by Napoleon, ceded to him the country on the left bank of the Rhine. When the Rhenish Confederation of Napoleon was formed, in 1806, Francis resigned the crown of the German empire, which was thus formally dissolved. Many changes in territorial limits were made, and the free cities lost their independence. The country was either actually or virtually subject to Napoleon, who dictated its policy, and levied heavy contributions upon it.

"As it was not possible for all these small states to maintain their separate independence unaided, when the Allied Powers had driven Napoleon from Europe, and restored the nations to their original condition, it became necessary to regulate the affairs of Germany. Prussia objected to an independent empire, whose power might endanger her safety and progress; and a confederation of the states was formed in 1815, which exists at the present time."[3]

[3] Dissolved in 1866.

The professor continued to describe the country, and to define the powers and duties of the Federal Diet; but as many changes have been made in the government and in the states, it is not necessary to transcribe his remarks to these pages. He promised, as occasion might offer on their travels, to give the students further explanations of the nature of the territory, governments, and local peculiarities of the several states they might visit. The boys were satisfied with this arrangement, and the session was closed. The boatswain immediately piped all hands to muster on deck.

"Whom do you purpose to join in Paris, if you go to Germany?" asked Mr. Lowington, when Perth appeared among the officers.

"My uncle," replied the second master, promptly.

"Your uncle from Glasgow, I suppose you mean."

"Yes, sir. He wrote me that he should be in Paris early this month."

"How happened you to be writing the sentence on your paper?"

"I was writing a letter which I intended to copy with ink, as soon as I had time."

"Have you the rest of the letter?"

"No, sir; I tore it up just now."

"Will you be kind enough to produce your uncle's letter?" said the principal, quietly.

"I don't keep my letters, sir; and I destroyed it as soon as I had read it."

"I suppose you did," replied Mr. Lowington, significantly. "But if you don't go to Germany, what then? I think you wrote the words, 'I will start with you.'"

"Yes, sir."

"Start from where?"

"From here."

"I don't understand it."

"I was going to write to uncle Donald, that, if I went to Germany, I would see him in Paris as we pass through that city. If I did not go, I wanted him to come here, and take me to Paris with him."

"And you think this explains what you wrote upon your note paper?" inquired the principal.

"As I understand it, sir, it does."

"Was Herman expected to join your party?"

"No, sir."

"I observed that he seemed to be much interested in what you were writing, and that you took some pains to let him see your paper. Your explanation is not satisfactory, and I should not dare to take you to Germany, lest you should miss your uncle on the way. Perhaps he had better come to Brest himself. When do you expect him?"

"I don't know when he is coming, sir," replied Perth, rather abashed to find his explanation had obtained so little consideration.

"Have you any money, Perth?" asked Mr. Lowington, suddenly.

"No, sir."

"Not a few francs, even?"

"Perhaps I have a few English pence."

"Haven't you a few English pounds?"

"No, sir."

"Just think a little, before you answer."

"If I had even a pound, I should be likely to remember it, sir."

"I should say you would; and twenty times as likely to remember it, if you had twenty pounds," added the principal.

"O, I haven't anything like that, sir."

"You have an astonishingly bad memory, Perth. You received a letter from your uncle in Glasgow, while you were at Havre. Do you remember that?"

"Certainly I do, sir," replied Perth, wondering what the principal could mean by such pointed questions.

Was it possible that Mr. Lowington had read what he wrote on the first sheet of note paper? He thrust his hand into his pocket, and the sheet was there as he had taken it from the atlas.

"You do remember the letter?"

"To be sure I do, sir."

"And don't you remember that there were four five-pound notes in it, numbering from thirty-three thousand eight hundred forty-five to eight, inclusive? It is very singular, indeed, that you have forgotten this little circumstance."

Perth was confounded by this revelation. He saw that he was caught, and that it was useless for him to say anything more; so he wisely held his peace.

"If your uncle has not changed his mind within three days, he has no more intention of coming to France than I have of going to Glasgow. I received a letter from him to-day, since the ship came to anchor, forwarded from Havre after we left. The writer was confined to the house with a severe attack of rheumatism. In the quiet of his chamber, he had an opportunity to consider whether he had done right to send you twenty pounds, even with the advice of your father, without informing me of the fact. He thought the sum was a large one for a young man to have, and he desires me to see that you make a proper use of it. I will trouble you to hand me the money, which shall be placed to your credit, and receipted for by the pursers."

"I haven't the money now, sir," replied Perth, who was fully resolved to run away at the first convenient opportunity, and wanted the money to pay his expenses.

"Where is it?"

"I sent it to a banker—"

"Silence! Don't blacken your soul with any more falsehoods, Perth," interrupted the principal, sternly.

"You may search me, sir," replied the second master, throwing out his arms, as though he were ready to submit to the operation.

"I may, but I do not choose to do so at present. Keep your eye on him, Peaks," added the principal, as he walked forward to his usual stand on the hatch.

"You are foolish, Master Perth," said the old boatswain, shaking his head; for he had been the only person who had listened to the interview, and appeared to be present for a purpose.

Perth put his hands in his pockets. He felt the paper on which he had written during the lecture. It would be a dangerous document in case he should be searched; for its contents would expose him, and implicate others. As slyly and as quickly as he could, he took it out, tore it into small bits, and threw it out the open port into the water.

"What's that?" demanded Peaks, seizing him by the collar.

"You are too late," answered Perth.

"What was it you tore up?"

"The five-pound notes."

"Tell that to the marines!" exclaimed the old sailor.

"They are gone to Davy Jones's locker now," replied Perth, shaking his head.

Peaks instantly reported the matter to the principal, who, however, did not deem it necessary to take any immediate action. Probably he did not believe the young wretch had destroyed the bills; or, if he had, it was his own loss. Perth stood silent and sullen, while Mr. Lowington spoke to the students, announcing the arrangements for the excursion to the Rhine. The delinquent was certain, by this time, that he was not to be one of the party; but he hoped, if he saved his money, that he should find an opportunity to escape from the squadron soon after his shipmates started on their journey.



CHAPTER XII.

A MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENT.

"Young gentlemen," said Mr. Lowington, as he stepped upon the hatch, after disposing of Perth's case, "we shall commence our tour to the Rhine to-morrow morning."

A hearty demonstration of applause greeted this announcement, and doubtless those who had been faithful from the beginning realized a certain sense of triumph, because they were justified in their hopes.

"We shall leave in the first train for Paris, where we will spend the night, and proceed to Strasburg the next day. From this point we shall enter Germany, and after visiting several places of interest, such as Fribourg, Baden, Schaffhausen, Stuttgart, Carlsruhe, Heidelberg, and Frankfort, we shall take the steamer at Mayence, and go down the Rhine as far as Cologne. This excursion will enable you to see all of the river which is worth seeing. You have already seen the Rhine in Holland, and at Basle. All its picturesque portions are crowded into the space of less than a hundred miles, which you can witness from the deck of a steamer in a single day, if such haste were necessary.

"As we leave at an early hour in the morning, it will be best to make our arrangements to-night. On our return to Havre, Captain Shuffles requested me to allow all hands to join in this excursion."

A few half-suppressed hisses from some of the runaways were promptly drowned in a sea of applause from the Order of the Faithful.

"I had the subject under consideration, and it would have afforded me very great pleasure to grant the request; but the conduct of those in whose favor it was made has been such, since we left Havre, that I am unable to grant it. I shall, therefore, be obliged again to leave thirty-one of your number on board of the Josephine during the absence of the others."

The runaways, to the astonishment, if not the horror, of the Faithful, warmly applauded this announcement. It was equivalent to saying they did not wish to join the excursion. The principal made no remark, though the applause was certainly impudent; but doubtless he was fully reconciled to the little arrangement he had made with Mr. Fluxion.

"Those who are to go will bring their bags on board of the ship, and sleep here to-night," continued Mr. Lowington. "Those who are not to go will take their bags on board the Josephine. If there is any doubt as to who the thirty-one are, their names will be read."

No one called for the reading of the names, for there was no one who needed to be enlightened. The students were dismissed, and the boats from the consort returned. In a short time, the runaways, who belonged to the ship's company, appeared upon deck with their luggage. They seemed to be rather jubilant than otherwise; and though their manner was very offensive, the principal took no notice of it, as it was not openly insolent, consisting only of a real or assumed expression of pleasure at the sentence pronounced against them. All of them expected to escape from the consort during the administration of Dr. Carboy, and they regarded a couple of weeks in Paris and Switzerland, free from restraint, as ample compensation for the deprivation.

"Let those laugh that win," said Herman, when Horne, one of the Faithful, ventured to sympathize with him in the misfortune of being left behind.

"I don't see what you can win doing duty and learning your lessons on board of the Josephine," added Horne.

"Don't you cry, my hearty. You will hear from us by the time you get halfway down the Rhine; and if we don't have a better time than you do, it will be because we don't know how."

"Well, I suppose you do know Howe," answered Horne, with a smile, which indicated that he enjoyed even a sickly pun. "I should think you had known him to your sorrow."

"Howe has played out. I expect Lowington will get boozy on this excursion."

"Why so?"

"Because he's going to take a Horne on the trip."

"Pretty good! I see you know Howe."

"We know how to have a good time, and we can do it without any sheep's wool."

"Are you going to run away in the Josephine again, Herman?"

"No; that's played out."

But the runaway was reminded, by this question, that he had been talking rather imprudently, and he left his companion for more genial associates.

Perth still stood on the quarter-deck, waiting the action of the principal, who had sent the head steward to overhaul the state-room of the delinquent. The money could not be found in the cabin, though several of the officers, who were there, assisted in the search.

"What have you done with the twenty pounds sent you by your uncle, Perth?" asked Mr. Lowington, when the steward had reported to him.

"Thrown it overboard, sir," replied Perth, with a malignant glance at the boatswain.

"He threw some bits of paper he had torn up into the water," added Peaks. "Whether it was the bank bills or not, I don't know, but I don't think it was."

"Very well," added Mr. Lowington, who never permitted a delinquent pupil to see that he was disturbed and annoyed, even if he was so. "You will bring your bag on deck, and go on board of the Josephine."

"I'm ready, sir," replied Perth, with brazen assurance.

"As your conduct is hardly becoming an officer and a gentleman, you will clothe yourself in a seaman's dress," added the principal, taking the shoulder-straps from his coat. "When a young man can stand up and reel off a string of lies without blushing, he is not fit to associate with those who are competent to be officers of this ship."

"I earned my rank, sir," said Perth, who had an idea that he should sleep in the cabin of the Josephine during his intended short stay on board of her.

"And forfeited it by your gross misconduct. You will obey the orders given you," added the principal, as he turned and walked away.

Peaks did not take his eye off the offender, but attended him to the cabin, where he was supplied with a seaman's suit. Perth objected to changing his clothing with a pertinacity which provoked the boatswain.

"If you say you won't change the clothes, I will report to Mr. Lowington," said Peaks.

"Well, I won't."

"All right, my hearty;" and the old sailor left the state-room.

But he had not reached the deck before Perth hailed him.

"I will put them on, Mr. Peaks. I've thought better of it," said he, throwing off his frock coat, as the boatswain appeared at the door of the room.

"All the better for you, my lad. I thought you wanted to spend a week or two in the brig," replied Peaks.

"I think it is a hard case, after a fellow has earned his rank, to take it from him," muttered Perth, as he proceeded to put on the sailor's suit.

"An officer should be a gentleman," growled the old sailor.

But the boatswain had been overreached, after all. The four five-pound notes had been sewed into the waistband of Perth's trousers; and this was the particular reason why he objected to losing his rank, if he had to lose his pants with it. Peaks would not take his eye off him long enough to allow him to tear out the bills; but when the boatswain went to report to the principal, the opportunity was obtained, and promptly used. The money was saved, and he yielded the point. He was conducted to the deck, and when the boats brought the Josephines, who were to visit Germany, to the ship, the runaways were sent to their new quarters, or rather their old ones, for they had spent three weeks in her before, under the superintendence of Mr. Fluxion. Before supper time the change was effected. Dr. Carboy, at his own request,—for he preferred the trip to the Mediterranean to that into Germany,—was transferred to the consort for the cruise, with Peaks and Bitts.

The "happy family" were now united on board the ship, and all the active discordant elements of the squadron were collected in the consort. With only a very few exceptions, both parties were satisfied with the arrangement. The runaways perhaps experienced a feeling of relief that they were no longer in danger of being watched and overheard by the "lambs." They had only to look out for the adult officers now, and in the steerage they were by themselves.