“Make fun if you like, sir,” replied the Doctor, “but allow me to continue my argument. The ‘Great Eastern’ has already ruined several companies. Built for the purpose of carrying emigrants to Australia, she has never once been there; intended to surpass the ocean steamers in speed, she even remains inferior to them.” “From this,” said I, “it is to be concluded that—” “Listen a minute,” interrupted the Doctor. “Already one of her captains has been drowned, and he one of the most skilful, for he knew how to prevent this rolling by keeping the ship a little ahead of the waves.” “Ah, well!” said I, “the death of that able man is to be regretted.” “Then,” continued Dean Pitferge, without noticing my incredulity, “strange stories are told about this ship; they say that a passenger who lost his way in the hold of the ship, like a pioneer in the forests of America, has never yet been found.” “Ah!” exclaimed I ironically, “there’s a fact!” “They say, also, that during the construction of the boilers an engineer was melted by mistake in the steam-box.” “Bravo!” cried I; “the melted engineer! ‘È ben trovato.’ Do you believe it, Doctor?” “I believe,” replied Pitferge, “I believe quite seriously that our voyage began badly, and that it will end in the same manner.” “But the ‘Great Eastern’ is a solid structure,” I said, “and built so firmly that she is able to resist the most furious seas like a solid block.” “Solid she is, undoubtedly,” resumed the doctor; “but let her fall into the hollow of the waves, and see if she will rise again. Maybe she is a giant, but a giant whose strength is not in proportion to her size; her engines are too feeble for her. Have you ever heard speak of her nineteenth passage from Liverpool to New York?” “No, Doctor.”