mbe had
turned up again, and that he had been on board the yacht, to carry out
that "splendid idea" of which he had spoken, their amazement and
indignation knew no bounds; and there was not one among them who would
not willingly have given up all his chances for promotion, if he could
have had that boy within reach of his arm for one minute. And when
Midshipman Richardson, flying down the harbor in the jolly-boat, heard
the fire-bell ring, and, looking over his shoulder, saw the smoke
ascending from his vessel, he placed his hand on the cutlass which hung
at his side, and told himself that, if he could only get one finger on
the collar of Tom Newcombe's jacket, he would capture him or perish in
the attempt. If Tom had only known it, he had, at last, succeeded in
thoroughly arousing the students. They had thus far treated him much
more leniently than he deserved--not out of any love for him, but
because of their respect and affection for his father; but now they had
one and all resolved that he had done damage enough. He need not try to
save himself by flight, for he could not do it. They would hunt him high
and low, and they would find him, too; and when they got their hands on
him, they would see that he did not escape the consequences of his last
act. Of course the students never said all this, for they were so busy
that they did not have time to say any thing; but they were as
determined about it, and as certain of each other's assistance, as
though they had talked the matter over, and already decided upon a
general plan of action.

The first lieutenant had never in his life been more astonished and
alarmed. That his evil genius should reappear again so suddenly, when
every body believed him to be miles away, and that he should have the
audacity to board the vessel, and set fire to her under the very noses
of the anchor-watch, when he knew that the chances were not one in ten
that he could escape detection, was almost incredible. Harry could not
understand it. It showed what a reckless, vindictive fellow Tom Newcombe
was, and how determined he was, too, when he once made up his mind to
any thing.

"You've reached the end of your rope, my hearty," were the first
thoughts that passed through Harry's mind. "You've got to lead Crusoe
life now, sure, for you can never return to this village." Then he
stamped his foot on the deck, and looking impatiently down the harbor in
the direction the jolly-boat had gone, exclaimed