t was
disposed of for the night. The officers went into the cabin, and those
who were to stand watch that night soon turned in; while the others,
never forgetting the rivals on shore who were working night and day to
dislodge them, resumed their books. On the berth-deck the lights were
turned down too low to admit of study, the rules forbade conversation,
and the only thing the students could do was to tumble into their
hammocks.

"Now, then," whispered the boatswain's mate, as he settled himself
comfortably between the blankets, "I wonder if that lieutenant will
allow us to sleep in peace to-night. He hasn't called us up to put out a
fire for two weeks."

Among other things in which Harry had drilled his men until they were
almost perfect, was fire quarters; and he had rung so many alarms that
the students began to call him the "fire lieutenant." Of course he never
took them away from their studies, but he had an uncomfortable habit of
calling them up in the night. Harry sometimes pored over his books until
nearly twelve o'clock; and when every one, except himself and the
officers and men on watch was asleep, he would come out of his cabin and
ring the ship's bell as if his life depended upon it. The crew would
tumble out of their hammocks and hurry to their stations, some manning
the pump, and others getting out the hose and buckets, and all of them
growling lustily to themselves, because they knew there was not a spark
of fire on board the vessel. These false alarms, although annoying to
the students, had the effect of making them thoroughly posted in their
duties; and Harry was satisfied, that if, by any accident, his little
vessel should really catch on fire, the practice the crew had had would
enable them to save her. He afterward had reason to congratulate himself
that he had been so particular on this point.

At one o'clock, every one on board the Storm King, except the officers
of the deck, quartermaster, and the two seamen who stood the anchor
watch, was sound asleep. The night was very dark--so dark that the watch
did not see a skiff which approached the vessel, propelled by slow,
noiseless strokes. But the skiff was there, and, when it had been
brought alongside the yacht, the bow-oarsman arose to his feet, and
fastened into the fore-chains with a boat-hook, after which, a figure in
the stern sheets placed his hands upon the rail, and drew himself up
until he had obtained a view of the vessel's deck. He c