e Sound, even if nothing else does.

It is true the tide may be out, and I remember that last night
the wind had fallen altogether. Still, no matter, the thing is
inexplicable, for a ship propelled by machinery, no matter at what
speed she may be going, always oscillates more or less, and I cannot
perceive the slightest rocking.

Such are the thoughts with which my mind is persistently filled.
Despite an almost overpowering desire to sleep, despite the torpor
that is coming upon me in this suffocating atmosphere, I am resolved
not to close my eyes. I will keep awake till daylight, and there will
be no daylight for me till it is let into my prison from the outside.
Perhaps even if the door were open it would not penetrate to this
black hole, and I shall probably not see it again until I am taken on
deck.

I am squatting in a corner of my prison, for I have no stool or
anything to sit upon, but as my eyelids are heavy and I feel somnolent
in spite of myself, I get up and walk about. Then I wax wrathful,
anger fills my soul, I beat upon the iron walls with my fists, and
shout for help. In vain! I hurt my hands against the bolts of the
plates, and no one answers my cries.

Such conduct is unworthy of me. I flattered myself that I would remain
calm under all circumstances and here I am acting like a child.

The absence of any rolling or lurching movement at least proves that
we are not yet at sea. Instead of crossing Pamlico Sound, may we not
be going in the opposite direction, up the River Neuse? No! What would
they go further inland for? If Thomas Roch has been carried off from
Healthful House, his captors obviously mean to take him out of the
United States--probably to a distant island in the Atlantic, or to
some point on the European continent. It is, therefore, not up the
Neuse that our maritime machine, whatever it may be, is going, but
across Pamlico Sound, which must be as calm as a mirror.

Very well, then, when we get to sea I shall soon, know, for the vessel
will rock right enough in the swell off shore, even though there be
no wind,--unless I am aboard a battleship, or big cruiser, and this I
fancy can hardly be!

But hark! If I mistake not--no, it was not imagination--I hear
footsteps. Some one is approaching the side of the compartment where
the door is. One of the crew no doubt. Are they going to let me out at
last? I can now hear voices. A conversation is going on outside the
door, but it is carried