Leopold, "Roi de Belge," would probably inform him that he had, either directly or through his faithful minister, heard of the distinguished Greek savant; that he had seen or heard of the Greek Grammar he had published, the Greek Reader he had compiled, and the Anabasis he had edited and annotated. It was more than probable that there were copies of these learned and valuable works in the Royal Library; for no library could be complete without them. If they were there, the king would graciously inform him of the fact, as the highest compliment that could be paid to his fame as a Greek scholar. To all this, with his left hand upon his heart, with his right extended, palm prone, at an angle of forty-five degrees with his perpendicular, his body bent in a courteous but dignified bow, he was to reply that his majesty did him too much honor. It would be necessary to deprecate, in some degree, the distinguished consideration awarded to him, and to declare his own unworthiness of the king's notice and favor.
Then, perhaps, the royal Leopold would present him a snuff-box, studded with pearls, diamonds, and rubies,—monarchs have a habit of presenting snuffboxes to men who do not take snuff,—in token of his princely appreciation of the learning of the distinguished American professor. Or, perhaps, "Le Roi de Belge" would inform him that he desired to promote the study of the Greek language and literature in his kingdom, and that he was graciously pleased to appoint him Inspector of Greek, or Librarian of the Greek portion of the Royal Library, with no active duty but that of collecting his salary of twenty thousand francs—liberal princes, as rich as Leopold was reputed to be, often spent their money more foolishly than this, in rewarding distinguished men of learning.
The learned gentleman did not feel a very strong confidence that the king would thus reward his forty years' patient study of the Greek; but if he should conclude to behave in this rather erratic but highly honorable manner, it would give him a pleasant opportunity of waiting upon Mr. Lowington in his cabin, and politely informing him that he could no longer endure the insults of the Josephines, or countenance their want of appreciation of the privilege of having such a professor of Greek as he was; and that he felt compelled to resign his present position, in order that "Le Roi de Belge" might avail himself of his valuable services.
It would be delightful to make such a call upon the principal of the academy squadron. It would be a grand occasion for a display of dignity. He did not feel that such a pleasant event was likely to occur; but it was not impossible. The fame of his Grammar and other works might have come over the Atlantic while he was transplanting Greek roots in the hard heads of stupid boys. He felt that he deserved some higher token of public appreciation than had yet been bestowed upon him. Why should the Secretary of Foreign Affairs send an autograph letter to him, unless some especial notice was to be taken of him?
An audible voice seemed to say, "Go up higher, friend;" but, alas! that was only the snoring of Professor Stoute, in the berth above him, which his fancy had incorporated into words. There was no voice—only the guttural sounds of his obese room-mate, who was so tired that he breathed with unwonted labor in his sleep. There was no poetry in the snoring of his companion, and the vision was rudely dissolved by the reality. But the invitation to go to court was in his pocket: he could not be cheated out of that, or of his brilliant expectations. Leopold might do the handsome thing, at least as to the snuff-box. It was rather awkward, in view of the approaching interview, that he could not speak French; but the king had lived in London for a time, and doubtless spoke English fluently. Of course the Minister of Foreign Affairs could speak English; but even if he did not, they could meet on the same level in Latin or Greek.
Professor Hamblin did not sleep very well; and he did not sleep any better because Mr. Stoute slept so well, and made the state-room sonorous with the richest base snoring that ever tormented a nervous man. Indeed, the heavy sleeper made it so lively for the light sleeper that the latter was two or three times goaded to the alternative of waking the former, or abandoning the room.
In the course of the night the learned professor had polished up all his little speeches to be recited before the minister, and probably before the king; had nicely adjusted all his bows and gestures, and laid up a magazine of expedients for possible emergencies, such as the presence of the Duke of Brabant, Prince Leopold, and even of "La Reine de Belge;" but the dreamer was glad when the morning came; for the night had been very long, though he had probably slept three quarters of the time; gladder still when he heard the water splashing on the deck above him, as the watch washed down the quarter-deck, for now he could get up. He did get up, and went out to taste the freshness of the early air.
The young seamen had finished their labor on the quarters, and were at work in the waist. A kind of force-pump, or fire-engine, was attached to the Josephine, to save labor in washing down the decks, and to be used in case of fire below. It was provided with a sufficient length of hose to reach all parts of the vessel, and was worked by a single brake, manned by four hands. With this apparatus the boys were deluging the decks with water, one of them holding the pipe, and half a dozen scrubbing the planks with long-handled brushes.
A fire-engine, or indeed anything that will squirt, is a great luxury to the boys, with whom "running with the machine" is a constitutional tendency. The novelty of the Josephine's force-pump had not yet worn away, and it contributed in no small degree to alleviate the hard and ungentlemanly labor of washing down decks.
Mr. Hamblin was not a boy, and he had a constitutional dislike of fire-engines and all hydraulic apparatus, partly, perhaps, because the boys liked it. The quarter-deck was still wet with the drenching it had received, and the professor did not like to dampen his feet on the one hand, or retreat to the close cabin on the other. He did what Americans are very apt to do when situated between the two horns of a dilemma—he compromised between the difficulties by seating himself on the fife-rail between a couple of belaying-pins. He was careful to place himself abaft the mainmast, so that the wicked engine would not spatter him.