that night, though it was hardly twenty miles distant.
The regular course of instruction was in progress in both vessels, the starboard watch of each being in the steerage, attending to their studies, while the port watch were on deck, in charge of the sailing department. Mr. Lowington paced the deck of the ship, and, with the habit of an old sailor, frequently cast his eyes aloft to see what sails were drawing. Occasionally, from a custom begotten of his solicitude for his charge, he glanced at the Josephine.
The squadron did not make even a mile an hour; and when the watch was changed, at four o’clock, there was not a breath of air to ruffle the glassy waves. The ship rolled and pitched on the swells, and the sails slapped against the masts and rigging under the effect of her motion. The young seamen on deck, without being in a hurry, were annoyed and vexed, as all sailors are in a calm. They partook of the heaviness of the scene, and gaped and yawned, from mere inactivity, and the want of something to occupy their minds.
The calm was only the prelude of a lively scene. To the westward, beyond the low coast line dimly seen in the distance, was a dense mass of black clouds, rising rapidly towards the zenith. Low, muttering, muffled thunder came over the sea. The sun went into the inky veil; and then the lightnings flashed, faintly at first, but glaring brighter and brighter as the darkness increased.
Mr. Lowington still paced the deck; but, instead of looking aloft now, he cast frequent glances at the officer of the deck, who was watching the dense black clouds. The principal said nothing; for, whatever views he had in regard to the working of the ship, it was his policy never to interfere until absolutely necessary. The officers were encouraged to do their own thinking, and were expected to take all necessary precautions for the safety of the ship at the right time. The second lieutenant was in charge of the deck, and as yet he had taken no step which indicated that he was conscious of any peril.
“Mr. Lavender,” said he, at last, when the principal’s movements had begun to be a little nervous.
The second midshipman, who was the third officer in rank on duty, stepped up to the lieutenant and touched his cap.
“Tell the captain there is a shower coming up, and that the clouds look squally,” added Mr. Ellis, the officer of the deck.
Lavender touched his cap, and went down into the steerage, where the captain was reciting his French lesson to Professor Badois.
“Excuse me,” said Captain Haven. “I must go on deck, for I suppose Mr. Lowington wouldn’t give an order to take in sail if the masts were blown out of the ship.”
The commander of the Young America went on deck in a hurry. He and all below had observed the sudden darkness which pervaded the steerage, and they were rather glad to have something stirring occur to break up the monotony of the calm. The captain looked at the black clouds, and promptly directed the officer of the deck to take in the studding-sails, which was done by the watch.
The clouds wore that peculiar appearance which indicates wind—an aspect which the old sailor readily recognizes. Captain Haven was familiar enough with the weather signs to understand what was coming; but the young sailor is almost as much afraid of taking in sail too soon as of being too tardy in doing so. There is as much vanity in carrying sail as in wearing fine clothes. The captain did not wish to be too cautious, for that would cause a smile upon the faces of the ship’s crew.
He looked at Mr. Lowington, who seemed to be perfectly satisfied, or rather his attention was directed entirely to the Josephine, which had not yet taken in her huge fore square-sail. Then he studied the threatening pile of black clouds, which had now nearly reached the zenith; while the thunder rattled, and the lightnings flashed with blinding glare.
“Take in topgallant-sails and royals,” said Captain Haven to the officer of the deck, now satisfied that his reputation for carrying sail could not suffer in the face of such admonitory indications.
Mr. Ellis called on the entire starboard watch to obey his orders; for only a quarter watch was required to handle the ship under ordinary circumstances, the other portion of the watch being idlers on deck. The light sails were taken in; and Mr. Lowington made no comment, as he sometimes did, after an evolution had been performed, in order to express his approval or otherwise of the action of the captain.
The Josephine was most strangely deficient in caution on the present occasion, and the principal was evidently much disturbed by the conduct of her captain, who was usually very prudent, without being timid. There she was, with all her extra sail set and flapping in the calm, while a tempest was brewing before her.
“Captain Kendall must be asleep,” said Mr. Lowington, nervously, to Peaks, the adult boatswain of the ship.
“And the officers too,” replied the old salt, hitching up his trousers. “We ought to fire a gun to wake them up.”
“It is not like Captain Kendall to be caught napping when a squall is gathering,” added the principal.
“I should think the thunder would wake them up. It’s heavy for these parts. That squall will come all at once when it does come. It will take their sails right out of the bolt-ropes.”
Mr. Lowington walked aft again, and on the quarter-deck met Flag-officer Gordon, who had also been observing the Josephine, and wondering at her continued neglect of the most ordinary precautions.
“Mr. Lavender,” said the commander of the squadron.
The midshipman, ever ready to do the meagre duties assigned to him, touched his cap to Captain Gordon.
“Pass the word for the signal-officer,” added the flag-officer.
“That’s right, Captain Gordon!” exclaimed the principal. “If the officers of the Josephine don’t do better than this, they must be broken. I am astonished.”
“So am I, sir. Captain Kendall is usually very careful, and what he don’t see isn’t worth seeing.”
“Be as expeditious as possible, for the squall will soon be upon us.”
The signal-officer appeared with the midshipman and quartermaster in charge of the signals. Captain Gordon ordered the number, “Take in sail,” to be set.
Paul Kendall was severely criticised on board of the ship; but, before he has suffered too much in the estimation of his sympathizing friends, let our readers be transferred to the steerage of the Josephine, in which, as the consort of the Academy Ship, the same rules and regulations prevailed. The port watch were at their studies, while the starboard watch had the deck, in charge of Mr. Terrill, the first lieutenant. This was the captain’s study time, for he was a member of the several classes, and in school hours was subject to the discipline of the professors, the same as other students.
When the squall began to gather, Professor Hamblin was hearing the recitation in Greek. The learned gentleman did not think a scholar knew anything unless he possessed a considerable knowledge of Greek. It was his favorite branch, and the class in this language was his pet. He was a strict disciplinarian, and never allowed anything to interrupt the recitation in Greek if he could possibly avoid it. No scholar, not even the captain, as the regulations then were, could leave the class without his permission. It is true, the rule had not been made, or even been considered, with special reference to the commander of the vessel; but Paul had always quietly submitted to it, even at some inconvenience and sacrifice to himself. No emergency had arisen, since the Josephine went into commission, which required the setting aside of the rule, and it was supposed the professors would have judgment enough to use it with proper discretion.
