"I give it, Mr. Becker."
The three Greenlanders then descended into the hold, for tropical nights are as chilly as the days are hot, and Becker, rolling himself up in a sail, lay on deck.
In less than five minutes they were all fast asleep, and Willis paced the deck, his arms crossed, and mechanically gazing upon a star that was mirrored in the water.
"Several years to come to us, and that at the rate of seventy thousand leagues a second—that is a little too much."
Then he went to the rudder, his head leaning upon his breast, and glancing now and then with distracted eye at the course of the boat, buried in a world of thought, sad and confused, doubtless beholding in succession visions of the Nelson, of Susan, and of Scotland.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] "Search after Truth," book ix.
[B] The twilight is entirely owing to this.