“I was wondering whether they could be trying to discover that which we found quite by accident.”
“That which we found quite by accident, Pickle?”
“Yes, uncle, and that may be the reason why they don’t like to talk about it. You see, all ships’ captains and people have been so laughed at, and told that they are inventing fables, that they are very quiet and like to keep things to themselves, just the same as Captain Chubb was when we saw that thing. You see, uncle—”
“Go on, Pickle! Go on!” cried Uncle Paul.
“Oh, I haven’t much more to say, uncle, only this—if ordinary captains are so particular about speaking, and so afraid of ridicule, wouldn’t a big scientific man like the Count, who has fitted out an expedition for the discovery, be very careful too, lest the object of his voyage should get about? But oh, nonsense! It’s ridiculous. It can’t be that. Don’t laugh at me, uncle. It’s only what I thought.”
“I was not going to laugh at you, Rodney, my boy,” said the doctor quietly, “for the simple reason that I do not see anything to laugh at. It’s a very clever, good idea, and quite possible. Yes, my boy, it’s more than possible. I don’t say that you are right, but very likely to be. The Count and his son are French, and, like their countrymen, very touchy and sensitive and afraid of ridicule. I shouldn’t be at all surprised, my boy, if that really is the reason for their being so secretive in their ways.”
“I am glad you think so, uncle,” cried the boy.
“No, no, no; don’t take it like that. It may be after all only a fancy of yours.”
“Yes, uncle, but if that’s what they are searching for, to prove that there are such—such—er—what-you-may-call-’ems in the sea—”
“Phenomena, boy—phenomena,” said the doctor shortly.