"Well, he was fairly elected, I suppose," replied Beckwith. "Elected!" sneered De Forrest. "Scott elected him. When he takes snuff, all the fellows in the steerage sneeze." "I thought you were going to get up a petition to the principal to have the old method of giving out the offices restored, and have this voting business done with." "I talked with some of the fellows about it, but most of them said they wouldn't sign." "Why not?" "Some of them said they rather liked the fun and excitement of the election; others said they had gone in for the thing, and didn't like to take the back track. I shouldn't wonder if they had joined the Bangwhangers. Between you and me, Beckwith, I am getting a little tired of the ship." "Tired of it? I thought you considered it the biggest thing in the world." "Well, I did; but it is about played out. I worked hard to be captain, but never got higher than third lieutenant; now I'm only a purser." "You didn't work very hard last month," suggested Beckwith. "I didn't think it was any use when I saw such fellows as Cantwell, Sheridan, and Murray getting in ahead of me, in spite of all I could do. No matter for that; Russia is a big country." "That's so." "A fellow could easily get lost in it, for none of us speak a word of Russian, and most of us not much French or German," added De Forrest, dropping his voice down to a whisper. Beckwith looked at him, and tried to comprehend his meaning. "Those fellows that ran away in Sweden, pretending they couldn't find the ship, got off easy," added the purser. "Not one of them has been punished, except Stockwell, who was only deprived of his position as coxswain of the second cutter," replied Beckwith, beginning to understand his friend. "All of them have been allowed to go on shore with the rest." "I should like to take just such an excursion on the same terms," continued De Forrest. "But those fellows owned up, made a clean breast of it, and promised to be good boys. The penalty hung over them for a week, and only their good behavior saved them." "Do you want to go down the Volga, Beck?" "Of course I do. I would buy out any fellow's chance if I could." "Perhaps we may go yet," replied De Forrest, with a wink. "How?" "Never mind it now. We are both in the first division, and shall go to Moscow with the others. We will talk about it when we get there. I expect to drop into the steerage next month, and I had as lief be hanged for an old sheep as a lamb. Don't say anything." "Of course not; but you don't mean to run away--do you?" "Dry up!" "Nobody is near us."