At lunch Dean Pitferge told me that the reverend gentleman had admirably
enlarged on his text. Battering rams, armed forts, and submarine
torpedoes had figured in his discourse; as for himself, he was made
great by the greatness of America. If it pleases America to be thus
extolled, I have nothing to say.
Entering the grand saloon, I read the following note:—
Lat 50° 8´ N.
Long. 30° 44´ W.
Course, 255 miles.
Always the same result. We had only made eleven hundred miles, including
the three hundred and ten between Fastenet and Liverpool, about a third
part of our voyage. During the remainder of the day officers, sailors,
and passengers continued to rest in accordance with established custom.
Not a piano sounded in the silent saloons; the chess-men did not leave
their box, or the cards their case; the billiard-room was deserted. I
had an opportunity this day to introduce Dean Pitferge to Captain
Corsican. My original very much amused the Captain by telling him the
stories whispered about the “Great Eastern.” He attempted to prove to
him that it was a bewitched ship, to which fatal misfortune must happen.
The yarn of the melted engineer greatly pleased the Captain, who, being
a Scotchman, was a lover of the marvellous, but he could not repress an
incredulous smile.
[Illustration: “I SEE” SAID DR. PITFERGE.]
“I see,” said Dr. Pitferge, “the Captain has not much faith in my
stories.”
“Much! that is saying a great deal,” replied Corsican.
“Will you believe me, Captain, if I affirm that this ship is haunted at
night?” asked the Doctor, in a serious tone.
“Haunted!” cried the Captain; “what next? Ghosts? and you believe in
them?”
“I believe,” replied Pitferge, “I believe what people who can be
depended on have told me. Now, I know some of the officers on watch, and
the sailors also, are quite unanimous on this point, that during the
darkness of the night a shadow, a vague form, walks the ship. How it
comes there they do not know, neither do they know how it disappears.”
“By St. Dunstan!” exclaimed Captain Corsican, “we will watch it well
together.”
“To-night?” asked the Doctor.
“To-night, if you like; and you, sir,” added the Captain, turning to me,
“will you keep us company?”
“No,” said I; “I do not wish to trouble the solitude of this phantom;
besides, I would rather think that our Doctor is joking.”
“I am not joking,” replied the obstinate Pitferge.
“Come, Doctor,” said I. “Do you really believe in the dead coming back
to the decks of ships?”
“I believe in the dead who come to life again,” replied the Doctor, “and
this is the more astonishing as I am a physician.”
“A physician!” cried the Captain, drawing back as if the word had made
him uneasy.
“Don’t be alarmed, Captain,” said the Doctor, smiling, good-humouredly;
“I don’t practise while travelling.”