hat something is scraping against the
schooner's hull. Have boats come alongside? Are the crew engaged in
loading or unloading merchandise?

And yet we cannot possibly have reached our journey's end. The Count
d'Artigas said that we should not reach our destination till this
afternoon. Now, I repeat, she was, last night, fully fifty or sixty
miles from the nearest land, the group of the Bermudas. That she could
have returned westward, and can be in proximity to the American coast,
is inadmissible, in view of the distance. Moreover, I have reason to
believe that the _Ebba_ has remained stationary all night. Before I
fell asleep, I know she had stopped, and I now know that she is not
moving.

However, I shall see when I am allowed to go on deck. My cabin door is
still bolted, I find on trying it; but I do not think they are likely
to keep me here when broad daylight is on.

An hour goes by, and it gradually gets lighter. I look out of my
porthole. The ocean is covered by a mist, which the first rays of the
sun will speedily disperse.

I can, however, see for a half a mile, and if the three-masted
merchantman is not visible, it is probably because she is lying off
the other, or port, side of the _Ebba_.

Presently I hear a key turned in my door, and the bolts drawn. I push
the door open and clamber up the iron ladder to the deck, just as the
men are battening down the cover of the hold.

I look for the Count d'Artigas, but do not see him. He has not yet
left his cabin.

Aft, Captain Spade and Engineer Serko are superintending the stowing
of some bales, which have doubtless been hoisted from the hold. This
explains the noisy operations that were going on when I was awakened.
Obviously, if the crew are getting out the cargo, we are approaching
the end of our voyage. We are not far from port, and perhaps in a few
hours, the schooner will drop anchor.

But what about the sailing ship that was to port of us? She ought to
be in the same place, seeing that there has been and is no wind.

I look for her, but she is nowhere to be seen. There is not a sail,
not a speck on the horizon either east, west, north or south.

After cogitating upon the circumstance I can only arrive at the
following conclusion, which, however, can only be accepted under
reserve: Although I did not notice it, the _Ebba_ resumed her voyage
while I slept, leaving the three-master becalmed behind her, and this
is why the merchantman is no longer vi