of France?" This was a question the boys were anxious to
answer, just to show that they knew something besides roughing it, and
to prove their intelligence to the engineer, who in a quiet way always
put them on their mettle, but to tell the truth they were rather
rusty on all branches of learning, but Jo and Tom were both fond of
history and had read a good deal of it at odd times. Tom was the first
to jump into the ring of knowledge, with the four-ounce gloves of
information, but ignorance ducked his first wild swing and was thus
saved a knockout.

"Oh, yes," he replied glibly, "Charles IX. was the son of Henry of
Navarre." The engineer shook his head slightly.

"You are away off, Tom," declared Jo. "His mother was Catherine de
Medici and Henri III. was his brother. Maybe he was the nephew or
cousin of Henry of Navarre. I wish I had a history here and I would
look it up."

"Partly right and partly wrong, Jo," said Berwick. "Catherine de
Medici was the mother of Charles IX., whose sister, Margaret of
Navarre, married Henry of Navarre. But this is the point I want to
make. Charles IX. finally got so tired of the pomps and ceremonies of
the court after a while that he had a forge fixed up in his palace and
there he used to make and hammer out horseshoes. That," he concluded
with a smile, "is why I took up my work. I was tired of useless
idleness. There is a constant live interest in this business of
running an engine that I like. Now I must get at it, and good-night
to you."

"Good-night, Mr. Berwick," replied the boys, and made their way out
of the engine-room on to the storm-swept deck, all except Juarez,
who stayed to work with the engineer.

The boys separated to their respective duties. Jeems took the boy's
task of stoking, Jim was at the wheel, sending Pete below to the
forecastle to take a good sleep. Tom and Jo were detailed to go to
their respective cabins and turn in for the night, as the old captain
had rather perversely taken it into his head to stand watch on the
bridge, though Jim had tried to dissuade him.

"It won't do your rheumatism any good, Captain," warned Jim. "It's
mighty wet and cold on the bridge and the wind is rushing fierce."

"Trying to make me out an old man," growled the captain, much
aggrieved. "I guess I can stand as much as any of you boys. I've
weathered many a storm in my day."

"You are tough as a knot yet, Captain," said Jim soothingly.

So it happened that the captain in