Works of Jules Verne/A Floating City/Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV
FABIAN RECOGNIZES ELLEN
The next day, at break of dawn, I went in search of Captain Corsican, whom I found in the grand saloon. He had passed the night with Fabian, who was still suffering from the shock which the name of Ellen's husband had given him. Did a secret intuition tell him that Drake was not alone on board? Had Ellen's presence been revealed to him by the appearance of this man? Lastly, could he guess that the poor crazed woman was the young girl whom he so fondly loved? Corsican could not say, for Fabian had not uttered one word all night.
Corsican resented Fabian's wrongs with a kind of brotherly feeling. The intrepid nature of the latter had from childhood irresistibly attracted him, and he was now in the greatest despair.
"I came in too late," said he to me. "Before Fabian raised his hand, I ought to have struck that wretch."
"Useless violence," replied I. "Harry Drake would not have quarreled with you; he has a grudge against Fabian, and a meeting between the two was inevitable."
"You are right," said the captain. "That rascal has got what he wanted; he knew Fabian, his past life, and his love. Perhaps Ellen, deprived of reason, betrayed her secret thoughts, or, rather, did not Drake before his marriage learn from the loyal young woman all he was ignorant of regarding her past life? Urged on by a base impulse, and finding himself in contact with Fabian, he has waited for an opportunity in which he could assume the part of the offended. This scoundrel ought to be a clever duelist."
"Yes," replied I. "He has already had three or four encounters of the kind."
"My dear sir," said the captain, "it is not the duel in itself which I fear for Fabian. Captain MacElwin is one of those who never trouble themselves about danger, but it is the result of this engagement which is to be dreaded. If Fabian were to kill this man, however vile he may be, it would place an impossible barrier between Ellen and himself, and Heaven knows, the unhappy woman needs a support, like Fabian, in the state she now is."
"True," said I; "nevertheless we can but hope that Harry Drake will fall. Justice is on our side."
"Certainly," replied the captain, "but one cannot help feeling distressed to think that even at the risk of my own life I could not have spared Fabian this."
"Captain," said I, taking the hand of this devoted friend, "Drake has not sent his seconds yet, so that, although circumstances are against us, I do not despair."
"Do you know any means of preventing the duel?"
"None at present; at the same time, if the meeting must take place, it seems to me that it can only do so in America, and before we get there, chance, which has brought about this state of things, will, perhaps, turn the scales in our favor."
Captain Corsican shook his head like a man who had no faith in the efficacy of chance in human affairs. At this moment Fabian went up the stairs leading to the deck. I only saw him for a moment, but I was struck by the deadly pallor of his face. The wound had been reopened, and it was sad to see him wandering aimlessly about, trying to avoid us.
Even friendship may be troublesome at times, and Corsican and I thought it better to respect his grief rather than interfere with him. But suddenly Fabian turned, and coming towards us, said, "The mad woman was she! It was Ellen, was it not? Poor Ellen!"
He was still doubtful, and went away without waiting for an answer, which we had not the courage to give.
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 honor 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 duelists, but, moreover, 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 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: latitude, 40° 33' north; longitude, 66° 24' west; course, 214 miles. Thus the Great Eastern was only 348 miles from Sandy Hook Point, a narrow tongue of land which forms the entrance to New York harbor; 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 the doctor's assurance, it was difficult to think that he could recover.
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!
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.