Floating City (1904)/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
Some moments later I met Captain Corsican, and told him of the scene I had just witnessed. He understood, as well as I did, that the situation of affairs was growing more and more serious. Ah! could I have foreseen all that would happen, how I should have longed to hasten the speed of the "Great Eastern," and put the broad ocean between Fabian and Harry Drake!
On leaving each other, Captain Corsican and I agreed to watch the actors in this drama more narrowly than ever.
The "Australasian," a Cunard steamer, running between Liverpool and New York, was expected this day. She was to leave America on Wednesday morning, and therefore would not be long before passing us. A watch was kept; however, she did not come in sight.
About eleven o'clock the English passengers organized a subscription on behalf of the wounded on board, some of whom had not been able to leave the hospital; among them was the boatswain, threatened with an incurable lameness. There was soon a long list of signatures, not however, without some objections having been raised.
At noon a very exact observation was able to be made—
Long. 58° 37′ W.
Lat. 41° 41′ 41″ N.
Course, 257 miles.
We had the latitude to a second. When the young engaged couple read the notice they did not look remarkably pleased, and they had good reason to be discontented with the steam.
Before lunch, Captain Anderson wishing to divert the passengers from the tedium of their long voyage, arranged some gymnastic exercises, which he directed in person. About fifty unemployed men, each armed, like himself, with a stick, imitated all his movements with a strict exactitude. These improvised gymnasts, with their firm set mouths, worked as methodically as a band of riflemen on parade.
Another entertainment was announced for this evening. I was not present, for the same amusement, night after night, only wearied me. A new paper, a rival of the "Ocean Times," was to be the great attraction.
I passed the first hours of the night on deck; the sea heaved, and gave warning of stormy weather, and although the sky was perfectly serene, the rolling grew more emphasized. Lying on a seat of the upper deck, I could admire the host of constellations with which the firmament was bespangled, and although there are only 5000 stars, in the whole extent of the celestial sphere, which are visible to the naked eye, this evening I thought I could see millions. There, along the horizon, trailed the tail of Pegasus, in all its zodiacal magnificence, like the starry robe of the queen of fairies. The Peliades ascended the celestial heights with Gemini, who, in spite of their name, do not rise one after the other, like the heroes of the fable. Taurus looked down on me with his great fiery eye, whilst Vega, our future polar-star, shone brilliantly, high up in the azure vault, and not far from her was the circle of diamonds, which form the constellation of Corona Borealis. All these stationary constellations seemed to move with the pitching of the vessel, and in one lurch I saw the mainmast describe a distinct arc of a circle from β, in the Great Bear, to Altair in the Eagle, whilst the moon, already low in the heavens, dipped her crescent in the horizon.