“Accident to the wireless....”
“She had nothing to say....”
“She ought to have signaled her daily position....”
“She should have replied when she was called....”
“We shall see to-morrow...!”
The cards fall, the dominoes grate, the newspapers crackle, and the pipes pull. All in this little world are silent, absorbed in their game, their reading or their reveries. But it is appearance only. Yesterday afternoon we talked with the Gambetta; last night she cruised in the sector where we were to go. For twenty-four hours she has been silent. In the cards, in the papers, and the smoke from the pipes, each one of us reads these disquieting thoughts. But no one speaks of it. I go to bed, for I have to take the watch again in the middle of the night.
Jimmino trots behind me, installs himself near the pillow, and sleeps with a dreamless slumber. But I await through the long hours some news of the Gambetta. Eyes closed or open, I cannot escape being haunted by her. All my comrades tell me they have passed a sleepless night.
In the shadow I go up to take the watch. My predecessor repeats the sacred phrases. I interrupt him:
“But the Gambetta?”
“Nothing.”