Chapter 8

BACK CUP.

In my opinion the _Ebba_ could have struck no other group of islands
but the Bermudas in this part of the Atlantic. This is clear from the
distance covered from the American coast and the direction sailed in
since we issued from Pamlico Sound. This direction has constantly been
south-southeast, and the distance, judging from the _Ebba's_ rate of
speed, which has scarcely varied, is approximately seven hundred and
fifty miles.

Still, the schooner does not slacken speed. The Count d'Artigas and
Engineer Serko remain aft, by the man at the wheel. Captain Spade has
gone forward.

Are we not going to leave this island, which appears to be isolated,
to the west?

It does not seem likely, since it is still broad daylight, and the
hour at which the _Ebba_ was timed to arrive.

All the sailors are drawn up on deck, awaiting orders, and Boatswain
Effrondat is making preparations to anchor.

Ere a couple of hours have passed I shall know all about it. It will
be the first answer to one of the many questions that have perplexed
me since the schooner put to sea.

And yet it is most unlikely that the port to which the _Ebba_ belongs
is situated on one of the Bermuda islands, in the middle of an English
archipelago--unless the Count d'Artigas has kidnapped Thomas Roch for
the British government, which I cannot believe.

I become aware that this extraordinary man is gazing at me with
singular persistence. Although he can have no suspicion that I am
Simon Hart, the engineer, he must be asking himself what I think of
this adventure. If Warder Gaydon is but a poor devil, this poor devil
will manifest as much unconcern as to what is in store for him as any
gentleman could--even though he were the proprietor of this queer
pleasure yacht. Still I am a little uneasy under his gaze.

I dare say that if the Count d'Artigas could guess how certain things
have suddenly become clear to me, he would not hesitate to have me
thrown overboard.

Prudence therefore commands me to be more circumspect than ever.

Without giving rise to any suspicion--even in the mind of Engineer
Serko--I have succeeded in raising a corner of the mysterious veil,
and I begin to see ahead a bit.

As the _Ebba_ draws nearer, the island, or rather islet, towards which
she is speeding shows more sharply against the blue background of the
sky. The sun which has passed the zenith, shines full upon the western
side. The islet is isolated, or at any rate I cannot see any others of
the group to which it belongs, either to north or south.

This islet, of curious contexture, resembles as near as possible a
cup turned upside down, from which a fuliginous vapor arises. Its