“Come, Fabian,” said I, “come away.”
We went on deck, but Fabian did not utter another word. I did not leave him, however, until he had reached his cabin.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Some moments later I met Captain Corsican, and told him of the scene I had just witnessed. He understood, as well as I did, that the situation of affairs was growing more and more serious. Ah! could I have foreseen all that would happen, how I should have longed to hasten the speed of the “Great Eastern,” and put the broad ocean between Fabian and Harry Drake!
On leaving each other, Captain Corsican and I agreed to watch the actors in this drama more narrowly than ever.
The “Australasian,” a Cunard steamer, running between Liverpool and New York, was expected this day. She was to leave America on Wednesday morning, and therefore would not be long before passing us. A watch was kept; however, she did not come in sight.
About eleven o’clock the English passengers organized a subscription on behalf of the wounded on board, some of whom had not been able to leave the hospital; among them was the boatswain, threatened with an incurable lameness. There was soon a long list of signatures, not however, without some objections having been raised.
At noon a very exact observation was able to be made—
| Long. | 58°, 37´ W. |
| Lat. | 41° 41´ 11´ N. |
| Course, | 257 miles. |
We had the latitude to a second. When the young engaged couple read the notice they did not look remarkably pleased, and they had good reason to be discontented with the steam.