Facing the Flag by Jules Verne
page 77 of 232 (33%)
page 77 of 232 (33%)
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through the sea, her bows down, throwing off clouds of foam, and
leaving a long, milky, undulating trail in her wake. Is she a steam-yacht? No--there is not a smokestack about her. Is she propelled by electricity--by a battery of accumulators, or by piles of great power that work her screw and send her along at this rate? I can come to no other conclusion. In any case she must be fitted with a screw, and by leaning over the stern I shall be able to see it, and can find out what sets it working afterwards. The man at the wheel watches me ironically as I approach, but makes no effort to prevent me from looking over. I gaze long and earnestly, but there is no foaming and seething of the water such as is invariably caused by the revolutions of the screw--naught but the long white furrow that a sailing vessel leaves behind is discernible in the schooner's wake. Then, what kind of a machine is it that imparts such a marvellous speed to the vessel? As I have already said, the wind is against her, and there is a heavy swell on. I must--I will know. No one pays the slightest attention, and I again go forward. As I approach the forecastle I find myself face to face with a man who is leaning nonchalantly on the raised hatchway and who is watching me. He seems to be waiting for me to speak to him. |
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