Gregory told how he intended to manage the matter when the steamer was given up; but this plan had been spoiled by the purchase of the vessel. The one thing he dreaded was being returned to the Josephine. He was conscious that he had been guilty of gross disobedience and insubordination. He had no confidence whatever in the excuse he had offered, that O’Hara was running away with the steamer, and disregarding the instructions of the senior vice-principal. This plea was only an excuse for rebelling against the authority of the captain; and he was sure it would not be accepted by Mr. Fluxion. The voyage to England had been a decided success; and the enterprise had been fully indorsed by all the adults on board. It was the feeling that he had been snubbed by O’Hara, that the captain had not “made enough” of him, which had excited his wrath. He had come on board of the Ville d’Angers with the expectation that the voyage was to be a sort of pleasure-excursion; and the recitations and the quarter-watches, which practically transferred the work and the discipline of the squadron to the steamer, were exceedingly distasteful to him. But the Burgundy was responsible for his mutinous conduct; and without that he might have got along with the minor difficulty in his path. He could not tolerate the idea of returning to the Josephine, and taking the penalty of his misconduct. He was ready to resort to the most desperate expedient to avoid the merited punishment. Since the sale of the vessel, he had been cudgelling his brain to devise the plan. He had hoped to become the captain of the Josephine in due time; but now he had given up the idea: the Burgundy had robbed him of all his expectations in connection with the academy squadron. He must get away, and keep away from it. Clinch listened to all this long story, and confessed that he was in the same boat as his companion. But his father was not a rich man; and he could not cruise all over the world, for the want of the means. But Gregory declared that he had money enough to take them both around the world; and, as long as his friend would stick by him, he should want for nothing. Whatever they did, they were to stick together. At supper-time Gregory, who did all the planning and scheming, had not settled upon any course of action. The officers of one watch and the passengers were at the table in the cabin. The prisoners, whose time hung heavily on their hands, listened attentively at the doors of their rooms to the conversation. Gregory heard the voice which he believed he had heard before, as he told Clinch. It sounded even more familiar than at dinner. “You are going off on your travels, I suppose,” said the Prince.