I passed the first hours of the night on deck; the sea heaved, and gave warning of stormy weather, and although the sky was perfectly serene, the rolling grew more emphasized. Lying on a seat of the upper deck, I could admire the host of constellations with which the firmament was bespangled, and although there are only 5000 stars, in the whole extent of the celestial sphere, which are visible to the naked eye, this evening I thought I could see millions. There, along the horizon, trailed the tail of Pegasus, in all its zodiacal magnificence, like the starry robe of the queen of fairies. The Pleiades ascended the celestial heights with Gemini, who, in spite of their name, do not rise one after the other, like the heroes of the fable. Taurus looked down on me with his great fiery eye, whilst Vega, our future polar-star, shone brilliantly, high up in the azure vault, and not far from her was the circle of diamonds, which form the constellation of Corona Borealis. All these stationary constellations seemed to move with the pitching of the vessel, and in one lurch I saw the main-mast describe a distinct arc of a circle from β, in the Great Bear, to Altair in the Eagle, whilst the moon, already low in the heavens, dipped her crescent in the horizon. CHAPTER XXIV. The night was stormy, the steam-ship, beaten by the waves, rolled frightfully, without being disabled; the furniture was knocked about with loud crashes, and the crockery began its clatter again. The wind had evidently freshened, and besides this the “Great Eastern” was now in those coasts where the sea is always rough. At six o’clock in the morning I dragged myself to the staircase, leading on to the upper decks. By clutching at the balusters, and taking advantage of a lurch or two, I succeeded in climbing the steps, and with some difficulty managed to reach the poop. The place was deserted, if one may so qualify a place where was Dr. Pitferge. The worthy man, with his back rounded as a protection against the wind, was leaning against the railing, with his right leg wound tightly round one of the rails. He beckoned for me to go to him—with his head, of course, for he could not spare his hands, which held him up against the violence of the tempest. After several queer movements, twisting myself like an analide, I reached the upper deck, where I buttressed myself, after the doctor’s fashion. “We are in for it!” cried he to me; “this will last. Heigh ho! this ‘Great Eastern!’ Just at the moment of arrival, a cyclone, a veritable cyclone is commanded on purpose for her.” The Doctor spoke in broken sentences, for the wind cut short his words, but I understood him; the word cyclone carried its explanation with it.