Paul Kendall, who had not occupied a berth in the steerage since the first organization of the ship, was greatly surprised and grieved to learn that some of the crew were addicted to vicious practices.  Gambling was an enormous offence, and he was not quite willing to believe that such a terrible evil had obtained a foothold in the ship.  He could hardly conceive of such a thing as boys engaging in games of chance; only the vilest of men, in his estimation, would do so.  Shuffles had told him so, apparently without malice or design, and there was no reason to doubt the truth of his statement, especially as he had given the particulars by which it could be verified.

The second lieutenant went down into the steerage.  Classes were reciting to the professors, and studying their lessons at the mess tables.  There was certainly no appearance of evil, for the place was still, and no sound of angry altercation or ribald jest, which his fancy connected with the vice of gambling, saluted his ears.  He cautiously entered Gangway D, and paused where he could hear what was said in mess room No. 8.

“I’m five shillings into your half sovereign,” said one of the gamblers; and then Paul distinctly heard the rattling of the props.

“There’s the half sovereign,” added another, whose voice the officer recognized as that of Wilton.  “You own five shillings in it, and I own five shillings.”

“That’s so,” replied Sanborn, who appeared to be the lucky one.

“Let us shake for the coin,” added Wilton.  “It’s my throw.”

“That’s rather steep.”

“We get along faster—­that’s all.  If I throw a nick, or a browner, it’s mine; if an out, it’s yours.”

“I am agreed—­throw away,” replied Sanborn, without perceiving that the one who held the props had two chances to his one.

The props rattled, and dropped on the bed.

“A browner!” exclaimed Wilton, thereby winning all he had lost at one throw.

“Hush! don’t talk so loud,” interposed Adler.  “You’ll have the profs down upon us.”

“I’ll go you another five shillings on one throw,” said Sanborn, chagrined at his loss.

“Put down your money.”

The reckless young gambler put two half crowns, or five shillings, upon the bed, and Wilton shook again.

“A nick!” said he, seizing the two half crowns.

“Try it again,” demanded Sanborn.

Paul Kendall was filled with horror as he listened to this conversation.  When he had heard enough to satisfy him that the speakers were actually gambling, he hastened to inform Mr. Lowington of the fact.  Paul was an officer of the ship, and this was so plainly his duty that he could not avoid it, disagreeable as it was to give testimony against his shipmates.  It seemed to him that the ship could not float much longer if such iniquity were carried on within her walls of wood; she must be purged of such enormities, or some fearful retribution would overtake her.  There was no malice or revenge in the bosom of the second lieutenant; he was acting solely and unselfishly for the good of the institution and the students.