"There's no use my starting without my _a_paratus!" said the passenger, his anger mounting. "It will be here to-morrow morning; it is promised! I was informed the ship would not sail before to-morrow night. This is an outrage----" "I'm sorry, sir," said the officer. "There's no use my going without my belongings," the man persisted angrily. "I demand to be put ashore." "That's impossible, sir." "It is _not_ impossible! This is an unspeakable outrage!" "The wharf closed this afternoon; notice was posted, sir," said the officer patiently. "I saw no notice!" thundered the man. "It's of no use for me to go without my belongings, I tell you! I cannot go! This is outrageous! I cannot go! I demand to be put ashore!" By this time the vessel was in midstream, his "demands" becoming more impossible every moment and his tirade growing rather wearisome. At least that was what most of the by-standers seemed to think, for they sauntered away, laughing, and the two boys, seeing that nothing sensational was likely to happen, returned to the forward part of the ship. "Do you think he was a German?" said Tom. "No, sure he wasn't. Didn't you hear what good English he talked?" "Yes, but he said _a_paratus," said Tom, "instead of saying it the regular way. And he was sorry he said it, too, because the next time he said _belongings_." "You make me laugh," said Archer. "There's another thing that makes me think he's a German," said Tom, indifferent to Archer's scepticism. "What's that?" "He wanted the ship brought back just on his account." CHAPTER XVI TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY Tom slept fitfully in his upper berth, thinking much of home and the troop and the people back in Bridgeboro. He realized now, as he had not before, the seriousness of the step he had taken. It came home to him in the quiet of the long night and tinged his thoughts with homesickness. Once, twice, in his restlessness, he clambered down and looked out through the brass-bound port-hole across the deserted deck and out upon the waste of ocean. Not a single reminder was there of the old familiar life, not a friendly light in the vast, watery darkness. He began to regard what he had done as a kind of wilful escapade, and though not exactly sorry for the action, he felt strange and lonesome, and his thoughts turned wistfully to the troop meeting which he knew was now over. He thought of Pee-wee, with his trusty belt-axe, going scout-pace up Main Street on his journey homeward; of Roy leaving Mr. Ellsworth where the street up Blakeley's Hill began; of the office and Margaret Ellison, and of his accustomed tasks. No, he was not exactly sorry, but he--he wished that the vessel had not started quite so soon, and so suddenly. He had never dreamed that the momentous and perilous step of crossing the ocean was begun with so little ceremony.