CHAPTER XXVIII.

At noon, Drake had not sent Fabian his seconds to my knowledge, and these were preliminaries which could not be dispensed with, if Drake determined to demand immediate satisfaction. Might we not take hope from this delay? I knew that the Saxon race do not regard a debt of honour as we do, and that duels had almost disappeared from English customs, for, as I have already said, not only is there a severe law against duellists, but, moreover, the public opinion is strongly averse to them. At the same time, in this, which was an uncommon case, the engagement had evidently been voluntarily sought for; the offended had, so to speak, provoked the offender, and my reasonings always tended to the same conclusion, that a meeting between Fabian and Harry Drake was inevitable.

The deck was at this moment crowded with passengers and crew returning from service.

At half-past twelve the observation resulted in the following note:—

Thus the “Great Eastern” was only 348 miles from Sandy Hook Point, a narrow tongue of land which forms the entrance to the New York harbour; it would not be long before we were in American seas.

I did not see Fabian in his usual place at lunch, but Drake was there, and although talkative, he did not appear to be quite at his ease. Was he trying to drown his fears in wine? I cannot say, but he indulged in bountiful libations with his friends. Several times I saw him leering at me, but insolent as he was, he dared not look me in the face. Was he looking for Fabian among the crowd of guests? I noticed he left the table abruptly before the meal was finished, and I got up immediately, in order to observe him, but he went to his cabin and shut himself up there.

I went up on deck. Not a wave disturbed the calm surface of the sea, and the sky was unsullied by a cloud; the two mirrors mutually reflected their azure hue. I met Doctor Pitferge, who gave me bad news of the wounded sailor. The invalid was getting worse, and, in spite of thedoctor’s assurance, it was difficult to think that he could recover.

At four o’clock, a few minutes before dinner, a ship was hailed to larboard. The first officer told me he thought it must be the “City of Paris,” one of the finest steamers of the “Inman Company,” but he was mistaken, for the steamer coming nearer, sent us her name, which was the “Saxonia,” belonging to the “National Steamship Company.” For a few minutes the two boats came alongside, within two or three cables’ length of each other. The deck of the “Saxonia” was covered with passengers, who saluted us with loud cheers.

At five o’clock another ship on the horizon, but too far off for her nationality to be recognized. This time it was undoubtedly the “City of Paris.” This meeting with ships, and the salutation between the Atlantic’s visitors, caused great excitement on board. One can understand that as there is little difference between one ship and another, the common danger of facing the uncertain element unites even strangers by a friendly bond.

At six o’clock a third ship appeared, the “Philadelphia,” one of the Inman line, used for the transportation of emigrants from Liverpool to New York. We were evidently in frequented seas, and land could not be far off. How I longed to reach it!

The “Europe,” a steamer belonging to the “TransatlanticCompany,” carrying passengers from Havre to New York, was expected, but she did not come in sight, and had most likely taken a more northerly course.

Night closed in about half-past seven. As the sun sank below the horizon, the moon grew brighter and for some time hung shining in the heavens. A prayer-meeting, held by Captain Anderson, interspersed with hymns, lasted until nine o’clock.

The day passed without either Captain Corsican or myself receiving a visit from Drake’s seconds.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The next day, Monday, the 8th of April, the weather was very fine. I found the Doctor on deck basking in the sun. He came up to me. “Ah well!” said he, “our poor sufferer died in the night. The doctor never gave him up—oh, those doctors! they never will give in. This is the fourth man we have lost since we left Liverpool, the fourth gone towards paying the ‘Great Eastern’s’ debt, and we are not at the end of our voyage yet.”

“Poor fellow,” said I, “just as we are nearing port, and the American coast almost in sight. What will become of his widow and little children?”

“Would you have it otherwise, my dear sir. It is the law, the great law! we must die! We must give way to others. It is my opinion we die simply because we are occupying a place which by rights belongs to another. Now can you tell me how many people will have died during my existence if I live to be sixty?”

“I have no idea, Doctor.”

“The calculation is simple enough,” resumed Dean Pitferge. “If I live sixty years, I shall have been in the world 21,900 days, or 525,600 hours, or 31,536,000 minutes, or lastly, 1,892,160,000 seconds, in round numbers 2,000,000,000 seconds. Now in that time two thousand millions individuals who were in the way of their successors will have died, and when I have become inconvenient, I shall be put out of the way in the same manner, so that the long and short of the matter is to put off becoming inconvenient as long as possible.”

The Doctor continued for some time arguing on this subject, tending to prove to me a very simple theory, the mortality of human creatures. I did not think it worth while to discuss the point with him, so I let him have his say. Whilst we paced backwards and forwards, the Doctor talking, and I listening, I noticed that the carpenters on board were busy repairing the battered stem. If Captain Anderson did not wish to arrive in New York with damages, the carpenters would have to hurry over their work, for the “Great Eastern” was rapidly speeding through the tranquil waters; this I understood from the lively demeanour of the young lovers, who no longer thought of counting the turns of the wheels. The long pistons expanded, and the enormous cylinders heaving on their axle-swings, looked like a great peal of bells clangingtogether at random. The wheels made eleven revolutions a minute, and the steam-ship went at the rate of thirteen miles an hour.

At noon the officers dispensed with making an observation; they knew their situation by calculation, and land must be signalled before long.

While I was walking on deck after lunch, Captain Corsican came up. I saw, from the thoughtful expression on his face, that he had something to tell me.

“Fabian,” said he, “has received Drake’s seconds. I am to be his second, and he begs me to ask you if you would kindly be present on the occasion. He may rely on you?”

“Yes, Captain; so all hope of deferring or preventing this meeting has vanished?”

“All hope.”

“But tell me, how did the quarrel arise?”

“A discussion about the play was a pretext for it, nothing else. The fact is if Fabian was not aware who Harry Drake was, it is quite evident he knew Fabian, and the name of Fabian is so odious to him that he would gladly slay the man to whom it belongs.”

“Who are Drake’s seconds?” I asked.

“One of them is that actor—”

“Doctor T——?”

“Just so; the other is a Yankee I do not know.”

“When are you to expect them?”

“I am waiting for them here.”

And just as he spoke I saw the seconds coming towards us. Doctor T—— cleared his throat; he undoubtedly thought a great deal more of himself as the representative of a rogue. His companion, another of Drake’s associates, was one of those extraordinary merchants who has always for sale anything you may ask him to buy.

Doctor T—— spoke first, after making a very emphatic bow, which Captain Corsican hardly condescended to acknowledge.

“Gentlemen,” said Doctor T——, in a grave tone, “our friend Drake, a gentleman whose merit and deportment cannot fail to be appreciated by every one, has sent us to arrange a somewhat delicate affair with you; that is to say, Captain Fabian Mac Elwin, to whom we first addressed ourselves, referred us to you as his representative. I hope that we shall be able to come to an understanding between ourselves worthy the position of gentlemen touching the delicate object of our mission.”

We made no reply, but allowed the gentleman to become embarrassed with his delicacy.

“Gentlemen,” continued he, “there is not the remotest doubt but that Captain Mac Elwin is in the wrong. That gentleman has unreasonably, and without the slightest pretext, questioned the honour of Harry Drake’sproceedings in a matter of play, and without any provocation offered him the greatest insult a gentleman could receive.”

These honeyed words made the Captain impatient, he bit his moustache, and could refrain speaking no longer.

“Come to the point,” said he sharply to Doctor T——, whose speech he had interrupted, “we don’t want so many words; the affair is simple enough; Captain Mac Elwin raised his hand against Mr. Drake, your friend accepted the blow, he assumes the part of the offended, and demands satisfaction. He has the choice of arms. What next?”

“Does Captain Mac Elwin accept the challenge?” asked the Doctor, baffled by Corsican’s tone.

“Decidedly.”

“Our friend, Harry Drake, has chosen swords.”

“Very well, and where is the engagement to take place? In New York?”

“No, here on board.”

“On board, be it so; at what time? To-morrow morning?”

“This evening at six o’clock, at the end of theupper deckupper deck, which will be deserted at that time.”

“Very well.”

Thus saying, the Captain took my arm, and turned his back on Dr. T——.

CHAPTER XXX.

It was no longer possible to put off the duel. Only a few hours separated us from the moment when Fabian and Harry Drake must meet. What could be the reason of this haste? How was it that Harry Drake had not delayed the duel until he and his enemy had disembarked? Was it because this ship, freighted by a French company, seemed to him the most favourable ground for a meeting which must be a deadly struggle? Or rather, might not Drake have a secret interest in freeing himself of Fabian before the latter could set foot on the American continent, or suspect the presence of Ellen on board, which he must have thought was unknown to all save himself? Yes, it must have been for this reason.

“Little matter, after all,” said the Captain; “far better to have it over.”

“Shall I ask Dr. Pitferge to be present at the duel as a doctor?”

“Yes, it would be well to do so.”

Corsican left me to go to Fabian. At this moment the bell on deck began tolling, and when I inquired of a steersman the reason of this unusual occurrence, he told me that it was for the burial of the sailor who had died in the night, and that the sad ceremony was about to take place. The sky, until now so clear, became overcast, and dark clouds loomed threateningly in the south.

At the sound of the bell the passengers flocked to the starboard side. The bridges, paddle-boards, bulwarks, masts andshore-boatsshore-boats, hanging from their davits, were crowded with spectators, the officers, sailors, and stokers off duty, stood in ranks on deck.

At two o’clock a group of sailors appeared at the far end of the upper deck, they had left the hospital, and were passing the rudder-engine. The corpse, sewn in a piece of sail and stretched on a board, with a cannon ball at the feet, was carried by four men. The body, covered with the British flag, and followed by the dead man’s comrades, slowly advanced into the midst of the spectators, who uncovered their heads as the procession passed.

On their arrival at the starboard paddle-wheel, the corpse was deposited on a landing of a staircase which terminated at the main deck.

In front of the row of spectators, standing one above the other, were Captain Anderson and his principal officersin full uniform. The Captain, holding a prayer-book in his hand, took his hat off, and for some minutes, during a profound silence, which not even the breeze interrupted, he solemnly read the prayer for the dead, every word of which was distinctly audible in the deathlike silence.

THE PRAYER FOR THE DEAD.

On a sign from the Captain the body, released by the bearers, sank into the sea. For one moment it floated on the surface, became upright, and then disappeared in a circle of foam.

At this moment the voice of the sailor on watch was heard crying “Land!”

CHAPTER XXXI.

The land announced at the moment when the sea was closing over the corpse of the poor sailor was low-lying and of a yellow colour. This line of slightly elevated downs was Long Island, a great sandy bank enlivened with vegetation, which stretches along the American coast from Montauk Point to Brooklyn, adjoining New York. Several yachts were coasting along this island, which is covered with villas and pleasure-houses, the favourite resorts of the New Yorkists.

Every passenger waved his hand to the land so longed for after the tedious voyage, which had not been exempt from painful accidents. Every telescope was directed towards this first specimen of the American continent, and each saw it under a different aspect. The Yankee beheld in it his mother-land; the Southerner regarded these northern lands with a kind of scorn, the scorn of the conquered for the conqueror; the Canadian looked upon it as a man whohad only one step to take to call himself a citizen of the Union; the Californian in his mind’s eye traversed the plains of the Far West, and crossing the Rocky Mountains had already set foot on their inexhaustible mines. The Mormonite, with elevated brow and scornful lip, hardly noticed these shores, but peered beyond to where stood the City of the Saints on the borders of Salt Lake, in the far-off deserts. As for the young lovers, this continent was to them the Promised Land.

In the meanwhile the sky was growing more and more threatening. A dark line of clouds gathered in the zenith, and a suffocating heat penetrated the atmosphere as though a July sun was shining directly above us.

“Would you like me to astonish you?” said the Doctor, who had joined me on the gangway.

“Astonish me, Doctor?”

“Well, then, we shall have a storm, perhaps a thunder-storm, before the day is over.”

“A thunder-storm in the month of April!” I cried.

“The ‘Great Eastern’ does not trouble herself about seasons,” replied Dean Pitferge, shrugging his shoulders. “It is a tempest called forth expressly on her account. Look at the threatening aspect of those clouds which cover the sky; they look like antediluvian animals, and before long they will devour each other.”

“I confess,” said I, “the sky looks stormy, and were itthree months later I should be of your opinion, but not at this time of year.”

“I tell you,” replied the Doctor, growing animated, “the storm will burst out before many hours are past. I feel it like a barometer. Look at those vapours rising in a mass, observe that cirrus, those mares’ tails which are blending together, and those thick circles which surround the horizon. Soon there will be a rapid condensing of vapour, which will consequently produce electricity. Besides the mercury has suddenly fallen, and the prevailing wind is south-west, the only one which can brew a storm in winter.”

“Your observations may be very true, Doctor,” said I, not willing to yield, “but who has ever witnessed a thunder-storm at this season, and in this latitude?”

“We have proof, sir, we have proof on record. Mild winters are often marked by storms. You ought only to have lived in17721772, or even in 1824, and you would have heard the roaring of the thunder, in the first instance in February, and in the second in December. In the month of January, 1837, a thunder-bolt fell near Drammen in Norway, and did considerable mischief. Last year, in the month of February, fishing-smacks from Tréport were struck by lightning. If I had time to consult statistics I would soon put you to silence.”

“Well, Doctor, since you will have it so, we shall soon see. At any rate, you are not afraid of thunder?”

“Not I,” replied the Doctor. “The thunder is my friend; better still, it is my doctor.”

“Your doctor?”

“Most certainly. I was struck by lightning in my bed on the 13th July, 1867, at Kew, near London, and it cured me of paralysis in my right arm, when the doctors had given up the case as hopeless.”

“You must be joking.”

“Not at all. It is an economical treatment by electricity. My dear sir, there are many very authentic facts which prove that thunder surpasses the most skilful physicians, and its intervention is truly marvellous in apparently hopeless cases.”

“Nevertheless,” said I, “I have little trust in your doctor, and would not willingly consult him.”

“Because you have never seen him at work. Stay; here is an instance which I have heard of as occurring in 1817. A peasant in Connecticut, who was suffering from asthma, supposed to be incurable, was struck by lightning in a field, and radically cured.”

In fact I believe the Doctor would have been capable of making the thunder into pills.

“Laugh, ignoramus!” said he to me. “You know nothing either of the weather or medicine!”

CHAPTER XXXII.

Dean Pitferge left me, but I remained on deck, watching the storm rise. Corsican was still closeted with Fabian, who was undoubtedly making some arrangements in case of misfortune. I then remembered that he had a sister in New York, and I shuddered at the thought that perhaps we should have to carry to her the news of her brother’s death. I should like to have seen Fabian, but I thought it better not to disturb either him or Captain Corsican.

I REMAINED ON DECK WATCHING THE STORM RISE.

At four o’clock we came in sight of land stretching before Long Island. It was Fire Island. In the centre rose a lighthouse, which shone over the surrounding land. The passengers again invaded the upper decks and bridges. All eyes were strained towards the coast, distant about six miles. They were waiting for the moment when the arrival of the pilot should settle the great pool business. It may be thought that those who had night quarters, andI was of the number, had given up all pretensions, and that those with the day quarters, except those included between four and six o’clock, had no longer any chance. Before night the pilot would come on board and settle this affair, so that all the interest was now concentrated in the seven or eight persons to whom fate had attributed the next quarters. The latter were taking advantage of their good luck—selling, buying, and reselling their chances, bartering with such energy one might almost have fancied oneself in the Royal Exchange.

At sixteen minutes past four a small schooner, bearing towards the steam-ship, was signalled to starboard. There was no longer any possible doubt of its being the pilot’s boat, and he would be on board in fourteen or fifteen minutes at the most. The struggle was now between the possessors of the second and third quarters from four to five o’clock. Demands and offers were made with renewed vivacity. Then absurd wagers were laid even on the pilot’s person, the tenor of which I have faithfully given.

“Ten dollars that the pilot is married.”

“Twenty that he is a widower.”

“Thirty dollars that he has a moustache.”

“Sixty that he has a wart on his nose.”

“A hundred dollars that he will step on board with his right foot first.”

“He will smoke.”

“He will have a pipe in his mouth.”

“No! a cigar.”

“No!” “Yes!” “No!”

And twenty other wagers quite as ridiculous, which found those more absurd still to accept them.

A SMALL SCHOONER WAS SIGNALLED TO STARBOARD.

In the meanwhile the little schooner was sensibly approaching the steam-ship, and we could distinguish her graceful proportions. These charming little pilot-boats, of about fifty or sixty tons, are good sea-boats, skimming over the water like sea-gulls. The schooner, gracefully inclined, was bearing windward in spite of the breeze, which had begun to freshen. Her mast and foresails stood out clearly against the dark background of clouds, and the sea foamed beneath her bows. When at two cables’ length from the “Great Eastern,” she suddenly veered and launched a shore-boat. Captain Anderson gave orders to heave-to, and for the first time during a fortnight the wheels of the screw were motionless. A man got into the boat, which four sailors quickly pulled to the steam-ship. Arope-ladderrope-ladderwas thrown over the side of the giant down to the pilot in his little nutshell, which the latter caught, and, skilfully climbing, sprang on deck.

He was received with joyous cries by the winners, and exclamations of disappointment from the losers. The pool was regulated by the following statements:—

“The pilot was married.”

“He had no wart on his nose.”

“He had a light moustache.”

“He had jumped on board with both feet.”

“Lastly, it was thirty-six minutes past four o’clock when he set foot on the deck of the ‘Great Eastern.’”

The possessor of the thirty-third quarter thus gained the ninety-six dollars, and it was Captain Corsican, who had hardly thought of the unexpected gain. It was not long before he appeared on deck, and when the pool was presented to him, he begged Captain Anderson to keep it for the widow of the young sailor whose death had been caused by the inroad of the sea. The Captain shook his hand without saying a word, but a moment afterwards a sailor came up to Corsican, and, bowing awkwardly, “Sir,” said he, “my mates have sent me to say that you are a very kind gentleman, and they all thank you in the name of poor Wilson, who cannot thank you for himself.”

The Captain, moved by the rough sailor’s speech, silently pressed his hand.

As for the pilot, he was a man of short stature, with not much of the sailor-look about him. He wore a glazed hat, black trousers, a brown overcoat lined with red, and carried an umbrella. He was master on board now.

In springing on deck, before he went to the bridge, hehad thrown a bundle of papers among the passengers, who eagerly pounced on them. They were European and American journals—the political and civil bonds which again united the “Great Eastern” to the two continents.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

The storm was gathering, and a black arch of clouds had formed over our heads; the atmosphere was misty; nature was evidently about to justify Dr. Pitferge’s presentiments. The steam-ship had slackened her speed, and the wheels only made three or four revolutions a minute; volumes of white steam escaped from the half-open valves, the anchor-chains were cleared, and the British flag floated from themain-mastmain-mast; these arrangements Captain Anderson had made preparatory to mooring. The pilot, standing on the top of the starboard paddle, guided the steam-ship through the narrow passages; but the tide was already turning, so that the “Great Eastern” could not yet cross the bar of the Hudson, and we must wait till next day.

At a quarter to five by the pilot’s order the anchors were let go; the chains rattled through the hawse-holes with a noise like thunder. I even thought for a moment that the storm had burst forth. When the anchors were firmly embedded in the sand, the “Great Eastern” swung roundby the ebb tide, remained motionless, and not a wave disturbed the surface of the water.

At this moment the steward’s trumpet sounded for the last time; it called the passengers to their farewell dinner. The “Society of Freighters” would be prodigal with the champagne, and no one wished to be absent. An hour later the saloons were crowded with guests, and the deck deserted.

However, seven persons left their places unoccupied; the two adversaries, who were going to stake their lives in a duel, the four seconds, and the Doctor, who was to be present at the engagement. The time and the place for the meeting had been well chosen; there was not a creature on deck; the passengers were in the dining-rooms, the sailors in their berths, the officers absorbed with their own particular bottles, and not a steersman on board, for the ship was motionless at anchor.

At ten minutes past five the Doctor and I were joined by Fabian and Captain Corsican. I had not seen Fabian since the scene in the smoking-room. He seemed to me sad, but very calm. The thought of the duel troubled him little, apparently; his mind was elsewhere, and his eyes wandered restlessly in search of Ellen. He held out his hand to me without saying a word.

“Has not Harry Drake arrived?” asked the Captain of me.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“Let us go to the stern; that is the place of rendezvous.”

Fabian, Captain Corsican, and I, walked along the upper decks; the sky was growing dark; we heard the distant roar of thunder rumbling along the horizon. It was like a monotonous bass, enlivened by the hips and hurrahs issuing from the saloons; flashes of lightning darted through the black clouds, and the atmosphere was powerfully charged with electricity.

At twenty minutes past five Harry Drake and his seconds made their appearance. The gentlemen bowed to us, which honour we strictly returned. Drake did not utter a word, but his face showed signs of ill-concealed excitement. He cast a look of malignant hatred on Fabian; but the latter, leaning against the hatchway, did not even see him; so absorbed was he in a profound meditation, he seemed not yet to have thought of the part he was to play in this drama.

In the meanwhile Captain Corsican, addressing himself to the Yankee, one of Drake’s seconds, asked him for the swords, which the latter presented to him. They were battle swords, the basket-hilts of which entirely protected the hand which held them. Corsican took them, bent, and measured them, and then allowed the Yankee to choose. Whilst these preparations were being made, Harry Drake had taken off his hat and jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, andturned up his sleeves; then he seized his sword, and I saw that he was left-handed, which gave him, accustomed to right-handed antagonists, an unquestionable advantage.

Fabian had not yet left the place where he was standing. One would have thought that these preparations had nothing to do with him. Captain Corsican went up to him, touched him, and showed him the sword. Fabian looked at the glittering steel, and it seemed as if his memory came back to him at that moment.

He grasped his sword with a firm hand.

“Right!” he murmured; “I remember!”

Then he placed himself opposite Harry Drake, who immediately assumed the defensive.

“Proceed, gentlemen,” said the Captain.

They immediately crossed swords. From the first clashing of steel, several rapid passes on both sides, certain extrications, parries, and thrusts proved to me the equality in strength of the opponents. I augured well for Fabian. He was cool, self-possessed, and almost indifferent to the struggle; certainly less affected by it than were his own seconds. Harry Drake, on the contrary, scowled at him with flashing eyes and clenched teeth, his head bent forward, and his whole countenance indicative of a hatred which deprived him of all composure. He had come there to kill, and kill he would.

After the first engagement, which lasted some minutes, swords were lowered. With the exception of a slight scratch on Fabian’s arm, neither of the combatants had been wounded. They rested, and Drake wiped off the perspiration with which his face was bathed.

The storm now burst forth in all its fury. The thunder was continuous, and broke out in loud deafening reports; the atmosphere was charged with electricity to such an extent that the swords were gilded with luminous crests, like lightning conductors in the midst of thunder clouds.

After a few moments’ rest, Corsican again gave the signal to proceed, and Fabian and Harry Drake again fell to work.

This time the fight was much more animated; Fabian defending himself with astounding calmness, Drake madly attacking him. Several times I expected a stroke from Fabian, which was not even attempted.

Suddenly, after some quick passes, Drake made a rapid stroke. I thought that Fabian must have been struck in the chest, but, warding off the blow, he struck Harry Drake’s sword smartly. The latter raised and covered himself by a swift semi-circle; whilst the lightning rent the clouds overhead.

Suddenly, and without anything to explain this strange surrender of himself, Fabian dropped his sword. Had he been mortally wounded without our noticing it? Theblood rushed wildly to my heart. Fabian’s eyes had grown singularly animated.

“Defend yourself,” roared Drake, drawing himself up like a tiger ready to spring on to his prey.

I thought that it was all over with Fabian, disarmed as he was. Corsican threw himself between him and his enemy, to prevent the latter from striking a defenceless man; but now Harry Drake in his turn stood motionless.

I turned, and saw Ellen, pale as death, her hands stretched out, coming towards the duellists. Fabian, fascinated by this apparition, remained perfectly still.

“You! you!” cried Harry Drake to Ellen; “you here!”

I TURNED, AND SAW ELLEN, PALE AS DEATH.

His uplifted blade gleamed as though on fire; one might have said it was the sword of the archangel Michael in the hands of a demon.

Suddenly a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the whole stern. I was almost knocked down, and felt suffocated, for the air was filled with sulphur; but by a powerful effort I regained my senses.

I had fallen on one knee, but I got up and looked around. Ellen was leaning on Fabian. Harry Drake seemed petrified, and remained in the same position, but his face had grown black.

Had the unhappy man been struck when attracting the lightning with his blade?

Ellen left Fabian, and went up to Drake with her facefull of holy compassion. She placed her hand on his shoulder; even this light touch was enough to disturb the equilibrium, and Drake fell to the ground a corpse.

Ellen bent over the body, whilst we drew back terrified. The wretched Harry Drake was dead.

“Struck by lightning,” said Dean Pitferge, catching hold of my arm. “Struck by lightning! Ah! will you not now believe in the intervention of thunder?”

Had Harry Drake indeed been struck by lightning as Dean Pitferge affirmed, or rather, as the doctor on board said, had a blood-vessel broken in his chest? I can only say there was nothing now but a corpse before our eyes.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The next day, Tuesday, the 9th of April, the “Great Eastern” weighed anchor, and set sail to enter the Hudson, the pilot guiding her with an unerring eye. The storm had spent itself in the night, and the last black clouds disappeared below the horizon. The aspect of the sea was enlivened by a flotilla of schooners, waiting along the coast for the breeze.

A small steamer came alongside, and we were boarded by the officer of the New York sanitary commissioners.

It was not long before we passed the light-boat which marks the channels of the Hudson, and ranged near Sandy Hook Point, where a group of spectators greeted us with a volley of hurrahs.

When the “Great Eastern” had gone round the interior bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, through the flotilla of fishing-smacks, I caught a glimpse of the verdant heights of New Jersey, the enormous forts on the bay, then thelow line of the great city stretching between the Hudson and East river.

In another hour, after having ranged opposite the New York quays, the “Great Eastern” was moored in the Hudson, and the anchors became entangled in the submarine cable, which must necessarily be broken on her departure.

Then began the disembarkation of all my fellow-voyagers whom I should never see again: Californians, Southerners, Mormonites, and the young lovers. I was waiting for Fabian and Corsican.

I had been obliged to inform Captain Anderson of the incidents relating to the duel which had taken place on board. The doctors made their report, and nothing whatever having been found wrong in the death of Harry Drake, orders were given that the last duties might be rendered to him on land.

At this moment Cockburn, thestatisticianstatistician, who had not spoken to me the whole of the voyage, came up and said,—

“Do you know, sir, how many turns the wheels have made during our passage?”

“I do not, sir.”

“One hundred thousand, seven hundred and twenty-three.”

“Ah! really sir, and the screw?”

“Six hundred and eight thousand, one hundred and thirty.”

“I am much obliged to you, sir, for the information.”

And thestatisticianstatisticianleft me without any farewell whatever.

Fabian and Corsican joined me at this moment. Fabian pressed my hand warmly.

“Ellen,” said he to me, “Ellen will recover. Her reason came back to her for a moment. Ah! God is just, and He will restore her wholly to us.”

Whilst thus speaking, Fabian smiled as he thought of the future. As for Captain Corsican, he kissed me heartily without any ceremony.

“Good-bye, good-bye, we shall see you again,” he cried to me, when he had taken his place in the tender where were Fabian and Ellen, under the care of Mrs. R——, Captain Mac Elwin’s sister, who had come to meet her brother.

Then the tender sheered off, taking the first convoy of passengers to the Custom House pier.

I watched them as they went farther and farther away, and, seeing Ellen sitting between Fabian and his sister, I could not doubt that care, devotion, and love would restore to this poor mind the reason of which grief had robbed it.

Just then some one took hold of my arm, and I knew it was Dr. Pitferge.

“Well,” said he, “and what is going to become of you?”

“My idea was, Doctor, since the ‘Great Eastern’ remains a hundred and ninety-two hours at New York, andas I must return with her, to spend the hundred and ninety-two hours in America. Certainly it is but a week, but a week well spent is, perhaps, long enough to see New York, the Hudson, the Mohawk Valley, Lake Erie, Niagara, and all the country made familiar by Cooper.”

“Ah! you are going to the Niagara!” cried Dean Pitferge. “I’ll declare I should not be sorry to see it again, and if my proposal does not seem very disagreeable to you—”

The worthy Doctor amused me with his crotchets. I had taken a fancy to him, and here was a well-instructed guide placed at my service.

“That’s settled, then,” said I to him.

A quarter of an hour later we embarked on the tender and at three o’clock were comfortably lodged in two rooms of Fifth Avenue Hotel.

CHAPTER XXXV.

A week to spend in America! The “Great Eastern” was to set sail on the 16th of April, and it was now the 9th, and three o’clock in the afternoon, when I set foot on the land of the Union. A week! There are furious tourists and express travellers who would probably find this time enough to visit the whole of North America; but I had no such pretention, not even to visit New York thoroughly, and to write, after this extra rapid inspection, a book on the manners and customs of the Americans. But the constitution and physical aspect of New York is soon seen; it is hardly more varied than a chess-board. The streets, cut at right angles, are called avenues when they are straight, and streets when irregular. The numbers on the principal thoroughfares are a very practical but monotonous arrangement. American cars run through all the avenues. Any one who has seen one quarter of New York knows the whole of the great city, except, perhaps, that intricacyof streets and confused alleys appropriated by the commercial population.

New York is built on a tongue of land, and all its activity is centred on the end of that tongue; on either side extend the Hudson and East River, arms of the sea, in fact, on which ships are seen and ferry-boats ply, connecting the town on the right hand with Brooklyn, and on the left with the shores of New Jersey.

A single artery intersects the symmetrical quarters of New York, and that is old Broadway, the Strand of London, and the BoulevardMontmartreMontmartreof Paris; hardly passable at its lower end, where it is crowded with people, and almost deserted higher up; a street where sheds and marble palaces are huddled together; a stream of carriages, omnibusses, cabs, drays, and waggons, with the pavement for its banks, across which a bridge has been thrown for the traffic of foot passengers. Broadway is New York, and it was there that the Doctor and I walked until evening.

After having dined at Fifth Avenue Hotel, I ended my day’s work by going to the Barnum Theatre, where they were acting a play called “New York Streets,” which attracted a large audience. In the fourth Act there was a fire, and real fire-engines, worked by real firemen; hence the “great attraction.”

The next morning I left the Doctor to his own affairs, and agreed to meet him at the hotel at two o’clock. Myfirst proceeding was to go to the Post Office, 51, Liberty Street, to get any letters awaiting me there; then I went to No. 2, Bowling Green, at the bottom of Broadway, the residence of the French consul, M. le Baron Gauldrée Boilleau, who received me very kindly. From here I made my way to cash a draft at Hoffman’s; lastly, I went to No. 25, Thirty-sixth Street, where resided Mrs. R——, Fabian’s sister. I was impatient to get news of Ellen and my two friends; and here I learnt that, following the Doctor’s advice, Mrs. R——, Fabian, and Corsican had left New York, taking with them the young lady, thinking that the air and quiet of the country might have a beneficial effect on her. A line from Captain Corsican informed me of this sudden departure. The kind fellow had been to Fifth Avenue Hotel without meeting me, but he promised to keep me acquainted with their whereabouts. They thought of stopping at the first place that attracted Ellen’s attention, and, staying there as long as the charm lasted; he hoped that I should not leave without bidding them a last farewell. Yes, were it but for a few hours, I should be happy to see Ellen, Fabian, and Corsican once again. But such are the drawbacks of travelling, hurried as I was, they gone and I going, each our separate ways, it seemed hardly likely I should see them again.

At two o’clock I returned to the hotel, and found theDoctor in the bar-room, which was full of people. It is a public hall, where travellers and passers-by mingled together, finding gratis iced-water, biscuits, and cheese.

“Well, Doctor,” said I, “when shall we start?”

“At six o’clock this evening.”

“Shall we take the Hudson railroad?”

“No; the ‘St. John;’ a wonderful steamer, another world—a ‘Great Eastern’ of the river, one of those admirable locomotive engines which go along with a will. I should have preferred showing you the Hudson by daylight, but the ‘St. John’ only goes at night. To-morrow, at five o’clock in the morning, we shall be at Albany. At six o’clock we shall take the New York Central Railroad, and in the evening we shall sup at Niagara Falls.”

I did not discuss the Doctor’s programme, but accepted it willingly.

The hotel lift hoisted us to our rooms, and some minutes later we descended with our tourist knapsacks. A fly took us in a quarter of an hour to the pier on the Hudson, before which was the “St. John,” the chimneys of which were already crowned with wreaths of smoke.

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