One day this friend, whose name was Albert, came to him and said that he was going to Copenhagen to visit Thorwaldsen's Museum. An enterprising speculator had arranged a trip there through the canal and back by sea for a very small fare. "You come too," he said, and it was soon settled that John should accompany him with one of the boys. The occasion of the expedition was the crown princess's entry into Copenhagen, but that was a secondary object in the eyes of the pilgrims to Thorwaldsen's tomb.
On an August evening John sat on the poop of the steamer with the sculptor, one of the boys and a school friend of his. In the twilight which had already fallen one saw ladies and gentlemen coming on board. The society seemed to be first-class. Stout fathers of families with field-glasses and tourist knapsacks, ladies in summer dresses and hats of the latest fashion. There was a bustle and stir, as each sought a sleeping-place which was guaranteed to all. John and his companions sat quietly waiting. They had their provisions and rugs and feared nothing. When the steamer had started and the confusion had ceased, John said, "Now we will have some bread and butter before we lie down."
They looked for their knapsacks and the provision basket, but they were not to be found. They discovered that they had not come with them. This was a hard blow, for they had only a little cash and they had counted on the excellent provisions which the doctor's wife had put up for them. Accordingly they had to eat from the sculptor's box, which only contained poor dry victuals.
Then they wanted to lie down. On all sides people were asking for sleeping-places, but could not find any. The passengers were in an uproar and there was a storm of curses. They had therefore to sit on deck; there were inquiries for the organiser of the expedition, but he was not on board. John lay down on the bare deck and the boys drew a tarpaulin over themselves, for the dew was falling and it was bitterly cold. They awoke at Södertelje, freezing, for the sailors had taken away the tarpaulin.
On the canal bank there now appeared the organiser of the excursion, who was an upholsterer. The passengers rushed at him, drew him on board, and loaded him with reproaches. He defended himself and tried to land again, but in vain. A court martial was held; they resolved to continue their journey, but detained the upholsterer as a hostage. The steamer went on through the canal, but as it was passing through a lock, the man-swung himself up on the dam and disappeared amid a hail of curses.