It must be confessed the Doctor’s words were not very comforting, the
passengers would not have heard them without shuddering. Was he joking,
or did he speak seriously? Was it, indeed true, that he went with the
“Great Eastern” in all her voyages, to be present at some catastrophe?
Every thing is possible for an eccentric, especially when he is English.
However, the “Great Eastern” continued her course, tossing like a canoe,
and keeping strictly to the loxodromic line of steamers. It is well
known, that on a flat surface, the nearest way from one point to another
is by a straight line. On a sphere it is the curved line formed by the
circumference of great circles. Ships have an interest in following this
route, in order to make the shortest passage, but sailing vessels cannot
pursue this track against a head-wind, so that steamers alone are able
to maintain a direct course, and take the route of the great circles.
This is what the “Great Eastern” did, making a little for the
north-west.
The rolling never ceased, that horrible sea-sickness, at the same time
contagious and epidemic, made rapid progress. Several of the passengers,
with wan, pallid faces, and sunken cheeks, remained on deck, in order to
breathe the fresh air, the greater part of them were furious at the
unlucky steam-ship, which was conducting herself like a mere buoy, and
at the freighter’s advertisements, which had stated that sea-sickness
was “unknown on board.”
At nine o’clock in the morning an object three or four miles off was
signalled from the larboard quarter. Was it a waif, the carcass of a
whale, or the hull of a ship? As yet it was not distinguishable. A group
of convalescent passengers stood on the upper deck, at the bows, looking
at this waif which was floating three hundred miles from the nearest
land.
Meanwhile the “Great Eastern” was bearing towards the object signalled;
all opera-glasses were promptly raised, and there was no lack of
conjecture. Between the Americans, and English, to whom every pretext
for a wager is welcome, betting at once commenced. Among the most
desperate of the betters I noticed a tall man, whose countenance struck
me as one of profound duplicity. His features were stamped with a look
of general hatred, which neither a physiognomist, nor physiologist could
mistake; his forehead was seamed with a deep furrow, his manner was at
the same time audacious and listless, his eyebrows nearly meeting,
partly concealed the stony eyes beneath, his shoulders were high and his
chin thrust forward, in fact all the indications of insolence and
knavery were united in his appearance. He spoke in loud pompous tones,
while some of his worthy associates laughed at his coarse jokes. This
personage pretended to recognize in the waif the carcass of a whale, and
he backed his opinion by heavy stakes, which soon found ready
acceptance.
These wagers, amounting to several hundred dollars, he lost every one;
in fact, the waif was the hull of a ship; the steamer rapidly drew near
it, and we could already see the rusty copper of her keel. It was a
three-mast ship of about five or six hundred tons, deprived of her masts
and rigging, and lying on one side, with broken chains hanging from her
davits.
[Illustration: THE WAIF WAS THE HULL OF A SHIP.]
“Had this steam-ship been abandoned by her crew?” This was now the
prevailing question, however no one appeared on the deck, perhaps the
shipwrecked ones had taken refuge inside. I saw an object moving for
several moments at the bows, but it turned out to be only the remains of
the jib lashed to and fro by the wind.
The hull was quite visible at the distance of half a mile; she was a
comparatively new ship, and in a perfect state of preservation; her
cargo, which had been shifted by the wind, obliged her to lie along on
her starboard side.
The “Great Eastern” drew nearer, and, passing round, gave notice of her
presence by several shrill whistles; but the waif remained silent, and
unanimated; nothing was to be seen, not even a shore-boat from the
wrecked vessel was visible on the wide expanse of water.
The crew had undoubtedly had time to leave her, but could they have
reached land, which was three hundred miles off? Could a frail boat live
on a sea like that which had rocked the “Great Eastern” so frightfully?
And when could this catastrophe have happened? It was evident that the
shipwreck had taken place farther west, for the wind and waves must have
driven the hull far out of her course. These questions were destined to
remain unanswered.
When the steam-ship came alongside the stern of the wreck, I could read
distinctly the name “Lerida,” but the port she belonged to was not
given.
A merchant-vessel or a man-of-war would have had no hesitation in
manning this hull which, undoubtedly, contained a valuable cargo, but as
the “Great Eastern” was on regular service, she could not take this waif
in tow for so many hundreds of miles; it was equally impossible to
return and take it to the nearest port. Therefore, to the great regret
of the sailors, it had to be abandoned, and it was soon a mere speck in
the distance. The group of passengers dispersed, some to the saloons,
others to their cabins, and even the lunch-bell failed to awaken the
slumberers, worn out by sea-sickness. About noon Captain Anderson
ordered sail to be hoisted, so that the ship, better supported, did not
roll so much.