“That’s of no consequence; this ship is bewitched, to use a common expression, she cannot escape her fate; I know it, and therefore have no confidence in her. Remember what difficulties the engineers had to launch her; I believe even that Brunel, who built her, died from the ‘effects of the operation,’ as we doctors say.”
“Ah, Doctor,” said I, “are you inclined to be a materialist?”
“Why ask me that question?”
“Because I have noticed that many who do not believe in God believe in everything else, even in the evil eye.”
“Make fun if you like, sir,” replied the Doctor, “but allow me to continue my argument. The ‘Great Eastern’ has already ruined several companies. Built for the purpose of carrying emigrants to Australia, she has never once been there; intended to surpass the ocean steamers in speed, she even remains inferior to them.”
“From this,” said I, “it is to be concluded that—”
“Listen a minute,” interrupted the Doctor. “Already one of her captains has been drowned, and he one of the most skilful, for he knew how to prevent this rolling by keeping the ship a little ahead of the waves.”
“Ah, well!” said I, “the death of that able man is to be regretted.”
“Then,” continued Dean Pitferge, without noticing my incredulity, “strange stories are told about this ship; they say that a passenger who lost his way in the hold of the ship, like a pioneer in the forests of America, has never yet been found.”
“Ah!” exclaimed I ironically, “there’s a fact!”