On returning to the deck the discussion was continued for a time, but gradually the interest flagged, then other subjects engaged attention, and the raft was finally allowed to lie undisturbed and forgotten.
“I don’t know how it is,” said Bob Mabberly; “but somehow I always feel a depression of spirits in a fog at sea.”
“Explanation simple enough,” returned Jackman; “are we not constantly reading in the papers of ships being run down in fogs? Where there is risk there is always in some minds anxiety—in your case you call it depression of spirits.”
“Your explanation, Giles, uncomplimentary to me though it be, might have some force if we were just now in the Channel, where being run down in fog is an event of frequent occurrence; but here, in a comparatively unfrequented sea, it would be strange indeed were I to be influenced by such possibilities. What say you, Captain?”
McPherson, who had sauntered towards the group, gazed in the direction where the horizon would have been visible had the fog been absent, and said:—
“Hm!—weel—” and then stopped, as if for the purpose of mature consideration. The audience waited for the announcement of the oracle’s opinion.
“Oo ay—weel, ye see, many persons are strangely influenced by possibeelities, what-ë-ver. There is a maiden aunt o’ my own—she wass niver marrit, an’ she wass niver likely to be, for besides bein’ poor an’ plain, an’ mittle-aged, which are not in my opeenion objectionable, she had an uncommon bad temper. Yet she wass all her life influenced by the notion that half the young men o’ the place wass wantin’ to marry her! though the possibeelities in her case wass fery small.”
“I should like to ’ave know’d that old gurl!” whispered Tips to Quin.
“Howld your tongue, ye spalpeen!” whispered his friend in reply.
“Have you any idea, Captain, where we are now?” asked Jackman.