The Survivors of the Chancellor: Diary of J.R. Kazallon, Passenger. Jules Verne

was carried on in whispers. The man repeatedly shook his head as he replied to Curtis’s inquiries, and then, in obedience to orders, called the men who were on watch, and made them plentifully water the tarpauling that covered the great hatchway.

      Curious to fathom the mystery I went up to Curtis and began to talk to him upon ordinary topics, hoping that he would himself introduce the subject that was uppermost in my mind; finding, however, that he did not allude to it; I asked him point blank.

      “What was the matter in the night, Curtis?”

      He looked at me steadily, but made no reply.

      “What was it?” I repeated. “M. Letourneur and myself were both of us disturbed by a very unusual commotion overhead.”

      “Oh, a mere nothing,” he said at length; “the man at the helm had made a false move, and we had to pipe hands to brace the ship a bit; but it was soon all put to rights. It was nothing, nothing at all.”

      I said no more; but I cannot resist the impression that Robert Curtis has not acted with me in his usual straightforward manner.