and if one of them had dropped, its cable
would not have been long enough to touch bottom.

"Now I could see that he began to look scared. 'Mr. Browser,' said he,
to the chief engineer, 'for some reason or other this ship does not
make headway under sail. You must go to work and get the engine
running.' And for the rest of that day everybody on board who
understood that sort of thing was down below, hard at work with the
machinery, hammering and banging like good fellows.

"The chief officer ordered a good many of the sails to be taken in, for
they were only uselessly straining the masts, but there were enough
left to move her in case the power of the current, or whatever it was
that stopped her, had slackened, and she steadily kept her position
with the breeze abaft.

"All the crew, who were not working below, were crowded together on
deck, talking about this strange thing. I joined them, and soon found
that they thought it was useless to waste time and labor on the
machinery. They didn't believe it could be mended, and if it should be,
how could an engine move a vessel that the wind couldn't stir?

"These men were of many nationalities--Dutch, Scandinavian, Spanish,
Italian, South American, and a lot more. Like many other American
vessels that sail from our ports, nearly all the officers and crew were
foreigners. The captain was a Finlander, who spoke very good English.
And the only man who called himself an American was the chief officer;
and he was only half a one; for he was born in Germany, came to the
United States when he was twenty years old, stayed there five years,
which didn't count either way, and had now been naturalized for twenty
years.

"The consequence of this variety in nationality was that the men had
all sorts of ideas and notions regarding the thing that was happening.
They had thrown over chips and bits of paper to see if the vessel had
begun to move, and had found that she didn't budge an inch, and now
they seemed afraid to look over the sides.

"They were a superstitious lot, as might be expected, and they all
believed that, in some way or other, the ship was bewitched; and in
fact I felt like agreeing with them, although I did not say so.

"There was an old Portuguese sailor on board, an ugly-looking,
weather-beaten little fellow, and when he had listened to everything
the others had to say, he shuffled himself into the middle of the
group. 'Look here, mates,' said he, in good enough