shall have energy enough to resist the
inclination. I will not give way to it. I must try and find out what
is going on outside. But neither sound nor light can penetrate this
iron box. Wait a minute, though; perhaps by listening intently I may
hear some sound, however feeble. Therefore I concentrate all my vital
power in my sense of hearing. Moreover, I try--in case I should
really not be on _terra firma_--to distinguish some movement, some
oscillation of my prison. Admitting that the ship is still at anchor,
it cannot be long before it will start--otherwise I shall have to give
up imagining why Thomas Roch and I have been carried off.

At last--it is no illusion--a slight rolling proves to me, beyond a
doubt, that I am not on land. We are evidently moving, but the motion
is scarcely perceptible. It is not a jerky, but rather a gliding
movement, as though we were skimming through the water without effort,
on an even keel.

Let me consider the matter calmly. I am on board a vessel that was
anchored in the Neuse, waiting under sail or steam, for the result of
the expedition. A boat brought me aboard, but, I repeat, I did not
feel that I was lifted over her bulwarks. Was I passed through a
porthole? But after all, what does it matter? Whether I was lowered
into the hold or not, I am certainly upon something that is floating
and moving.

No doubt I shall soon be let out, together with Thomas Roch, supposing
them to have locked him up as carefully as they have me. By being let
out, I mean being accorded permission to go on deck. It will not be
for some hours to come, however, that is certain, for they won't want
us to be seen, so that there is no chance of getting a whiff of fresh
air till we are well out at sea. If it is a sailing vessel, she must
have waited for a breeze--for the breeze that freshens off shore at
daybreak, and is favorable to ships navigating Pamlico Sound.

It certainly cannot be a steamer. I could not have failed to smell the
oil and other odors of the engine-room. And then I should feel
the trembling of the machinery, the jerks of the pistons, and the
movements of the screws or paddles.

The best thing to do is to wait patiently. I shan't be taken out of
this hole until to-morrow, anyway. Moreover, if I am not released,
somebody will surely bring me something to eat. There is no reason to
suppose that they intend to starve me to death. They wouldn't have
taken the trouble to bring me aboard, but