"Thank Heaven," said the men of science as they trod the slippery decks of the _Kamma Funder_, belonging to Copenhagen. But their troubles were only just beginning. The skipper walked aft on the slippery deck, and climbed upon the poop by way of the rail, for some of the loose lumber had dislodged and smashed the poop ladder. When he found his foot upon his native heath, he was once more Captain Joseph Prowse in all his glory; and turning about, he addressed his crew. "Simpkins," he said, "you are chief officer, second officer and bo'son, and don't you forget it. As for you others, I'll have you know that you're the crew. Just drop any kind of heightened notion that you are passengers, and we'll get along easy; but if you don't, look out for squalls. Simpkins, turn this useless lot to throwin' the remains of the deck cargo overboard, and try a couple of 'em at the pumps; maybe her seams may have closed up again by now." And going aft to the scuttle, he disappeared from view. "Well," said the geologist, "of all the infernal----" "Oh, stow that," cried Simpkins, "and turn to. You're here, ain't you, and lucky you should consider yourself. And the captain's a man of his word, as I know; so look slippy and pass this bloomin' truck over the side." The miserable crew looked at each other in despair. "Come now," said Simpkins impatiently, "do you want me to report you chaps as refusin' duty?" The geologist, who was the youngest and sturdiest man in the crowd, said that he did; but the astronomer and the entomologist remonstrated with him. "I think we'd better," said the unhappy insect man. "This Prowse seems a regular brute." "He is," said the astronomer, "and I pray to Heaven that he doesn't find any rum on board." But Heaven did not listen, and the captain presently came on deck with a flushed face. "Simpkins," roared Prowse, as his head appeared over the edge of the scuttle. "Yes, sir," said the new mate. "Is that lumber over the side yet?" "Quick, for Gawd's sake," said Simpkins, and the reluctant men of science commenced sliding the boards over. "It's going, sir," answered Simpkins. "Goin'!" said Prowse, when he got his hands on the after poop rail. "Goin'! I should say so! What a crowd! Oh, you miserable things, I'll shape you; I'll get you into condition; I'll make sailors of you. Get two of these hoosiers on to the pumps and see if she's leakin' very bad, and then we'll make sail. This 'ere _Kamma Funder_ won't make a quick passage, but by the time we're picked up, or sail 'er 'ome, I'll make you chaps fit to ship in the worst Cape Horner that ever sailed." He turned away, but stopped. "And when the deck's clear, Simpkins, you can let 'em eat what they can get. There's plenty of biscuit, but mighty little else. Now then, you Stars, pump!"