‘It was your hat?’
‘They thought so,’ I answered.
‘Nothing more?’ said he, ‘merely a straw hat? But then to be sure it was in the dark of the morning, and they were able to see nothing more.’
He rose from his chair and took several turns about the cabin; meanwhile Mr. McEwan steadfastly regarded me. His air was one of professional curiosity. At last his scrutiny grew painful, but he did not relax it, though my uneasiness must have been clear to him.
‘Can you give me any idea,’ said the captain, ‘of what became of the French crew?’
‘I cannot,’ I replied.
‘It was barbarous of them to leave you on board a vessel which they believed was sinking, or they would not have quitted her.’
‘I was kindly treated by them,’ I answered. One of them, a young Frenchman, endeavoured to release me that I might gain the deck. But he could not move the cask that was jammed between my door and the steps. His uncle, the captain, threatened to leave him behind. The young man would have saved me could he have procured help.’
‘That’s how it always is in a panic at sea,’ said the captain, addressing Mr. McEwan. ‘I can tell you exactly how it happened with those foreigners. When the brig was struck the seamen supposed that she would instantly founder. They launched the boat, probably their only boat.’
‘They had but one boat,’ I said.