“That may be the county jail, the court-house, or the lunatic asylum. I haven’t the least idea what it is,” answered Peaks, indifferently. “The professors can tell you all about those things.”
“I wonder where that ship came from?” added Clyde, pointing to a vessel which was standing in ahead of the Young America.
“That isn’t a ship,” replied Peaks, as he turned partly round, so that he could see the craft. “That’s a ’mofferdite brig; or, as bookish people would say, an hermaphrodite brig—half brig and half schooner. You must call things, especially vessels, by their right names, or you will fall in the opinion of—”
At that instant the big boatswain dropped into the deep waters of the fjord.
“And you will fall, in my opinion,” said Clyde, as, taking advantage of his antagonist’s attention to the brig, he gave him a smart push, which displaced him from the cat-head.
But Peaks, who was half man and half fish, was as much at home in the water as on the deck, and struck out for the cable, by which the ship was anchored, as the nearest point of support. Clyde walked along the rail till he came to the swinging-boom, where the boats which had been lowered for use after dinner were fastened. Climbing out on the boom, he dropped down by the painter into the third cutter, one of the four-oar boats. Bitts, the carpenter, who had been the only person on board except the boatswain, was in the waist busily at work upon the boat, and did not observe that anything unusual had transpired. Clyde had practised gymnastics a great deal, and was an active, agile fellow. Casting off the painter of the third cutter, he worked her astern, so as to avoid Peaks. Then, shipping a pair of oars, he pulled for the shore.
In the mean time, the boatswain, disdaining to call for assistance, and not having observed the movements of Clyde, climbed up the cable to the hawse-hole, and then, by the bowsprit guys, made his way to the top-gallant forecastle, where he discovered the Briton in the cutter, pulling with all his might for the shore. Shaking the water from his clothes, he hastened to the main cabin, and informed the principal that the new scholar had left the ship.
“Left the ship!” exclaimed Mr. Lowington. “Were you not on deck while the students were at dinner?”
“Yes, sir, most of the time; but just at the moment when the young sculpin left the ship, I happened to be in the water,” answered Peaks, shrugging his shoulders like a Frenchman, and glancing at his wet garments.
“How came you in the water?”