om was the most valuable man
in the band; and after assisting him through so many dangers, he could
not afford to lose him now.

"Handspikes!" yelled the governor. "Down with the 'cademy swells! Knock
'em overboard!"

The Crusoe men rushed forward in a body, two of them armed with
handspikes, two more with the oars that belonged to the skiff, and
Friday flourishing his favorite weapon, the boat-hook. The midshipman
began to get excited and uneasy, but never wavered in his determination
to take Tom a prisoner to the Storm King. "Tumble into the boat, men,"
said he, hurriedly, "and stand by to catch this fellow."

The oarsmen leaped over the rail, without stopping to look before them,
and, to their no small amazement, found themselves struggling in the
water. In the hurry and excitement of the attack, they had not thought
of making the painter of the jolly-boat fast, and she had drifted astern
of the schooner, which had all this while been in motion. But an
unexpected bath in the harbor was no new thing to them, and they were
quite as ready to carry on the fight in the water, as on the deck of
the schooner.

"Pitch him over, sir," said Simmonds, holding his cutlass in his teeth,
and putting up his hands to receive the prisoner. "We'll catch him."

"O, now, I'd just like to see you do it," drawled Tom, seizing the rail
with both hands and holding on with a death grip. "I won't stand no such
treatment. Let me alone, Richardson!"

If Tom wanted to see himself thrown overboard, he was certainly
accommodated; for the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when he flew
through the air, and striking the water head-foremost, went down out of
sight; and the midshipman, without waiting to see what had become of
him, sprang over the rail, just in time to escape from the boat-hook,
with which Friday attempted to catch him by the collar. This movement
created a great commotion among the Crusoe men. They were astonished at
the recklessness of the students, and feared that they were about to
lose Tom after all. Like many others of their class, they had been
accustomed to look upon a well-dressed, gentlemanly-appearing youth as
an arrant coward. The term "spooney," which the Night-hawks had used to
designate a studious, well-behaved boy, meant, with Sam and his crowd, a
fellow who had neither strength nor courage; but they had learned that
the word, as applied to the students, was not exactly correct. They had
discovered that good