He sat on the fife-rail and began to think of the king and the minister again; but his reflections this time were very brief, and if his fancy burned again with glowing anticipation, the flame was suddenly quenched by a stream of water directed at the foot of the mast, which spattered his lower extremities very badly.
"What are you about, you rascal?" roared the learned gentleman, springing from his perch to the deck.
But it would have been better for him to remain where he was, for the instant his feet struck the deck, the full force of the stream from the hose-pipe saluted him squarely in the face, filling his mouth with water, and well nigh overthrowing him with its violence. This was a sad accident. McDougal, one of the quartermasters, held the pipe. At the moment the professor sprang from the fife-rail, the hoseman was looking behind him, his attention having been called away from his work by a remark of one of the hands at the brake.
"What do you mean, you rascal?" sputtered Mr. Hamblin, attempting to free his mouth of the dirty Scheldt water which had been forced into it.
"That's number three," whispered one of the brake-men to another.
"Hush up!" replied the one addressed, from the corner of his mouth.
McDougal dropped the hose, and rushed aft to the place where the unhappy savant stood.
"You impertinent puppy!" cried Mr. Hamblin, soiling his white handkerchief with the foul water upon his face.
"O, dear! What have I done!" groaned McDougal, clasping his hands in an agony of dismay. "I beg your pardon! I didn't see you, sir. O, what have I done!" And the wretched hoseman actually threw himself on his knees upon the wet deck, and implored the forgiveness of the injured magnate of the school-room.
"You meant to do it!" exclaimed the implacable pedagogue.