“We have proof, sir, we have proof on record. Mild winters are often marked by storms. You ought only to have lived in 1772, or even in 1824, and you would have heard the roaring of the thunder, in the first instance in February, and in the second in December. In the month of January, 1837, a thunder-bolt fell near Drammen in Norway, and did considerable mischief. Last year, in the month of February, fishing-smacks from Tréport were struck by lightning. If I had time to consult statistics I would soon put you to silence.” “Well, Doctor, since you will have it so, we shall soon see. At any rate, you are not afraid of thunder?” “Not I,” replied the Doctor. “The thunder is my friend; better still, it is my doctor.” “Your doctor?” “Most certainly. I was struck by lightning in my bed on the 13th July, 1867, at Kew, near London, and it cured me of paralysis in my right arm, when the doctors had given up the case as hopeless.” “You must be joking.” “Not at all. It is an economical treatment by electricity. My dear sir, there are many very authentic facts which prove that thunder surpasses the most skilful physicians, and its intervention is truly marvellous in apparently hopeless cases.” “Nevertheless,” said I, “I have little trust in your doctor, and would not willingly consult him.” “Because you have never seen him at work. Stay; here is an instance which I have heard of as occurring in 1817. A peasant in Connecticut, who was suffering from asthma, supposed to be incurable, was struck by lightning in a field, and radically cured.” In fact I believe the Doctor would have been capable of making the thunder into pills. “Laugh, ignoramus!” said he to me. “You know nothing either of the weather or medicine!” CHAPTER XXXII. Dean Pitferge left me, but I remained on deck, watching the storm rise. Corsican was still closeted with Fabian, who was undoubtedly making some arrangements in case of misfortune. I then remembered that he had a sister in New York, and I shuddered at the thought that perhaps we should have to carry to her the news of her brother’s death. I should like to have seen Fabian, but I thought it better not to disturb either him or Captain Corsican. [Illustration: I REMAINED ON DECK WATCHING THE STORM RISE.]