screw, it being claimed that they utilize the resistance of the water
better than the latter and give increased speed to a ship?

In a few hours' time I shall doubtless know all about this means of
locomotion.

Meanwhile there is another thing that equally puzzles me. There is not
the slightest rolling or pitching. How is it that Pamlico Sound is so
extraordinarily calm? The varying currents continuously ruffle the
surface of the 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