At this moment the steward’s trumpet sounded for the last time; it called the passengers to their farewell dinner. The “Society of Freighters” would be prodigal with the champagne, and no one wished to be absent. An hour later the saloons were crowded with guests, and the deck deserted. However, seven persons left their places unoccupied; the two adversaries, who were going to stake their lives in a duel, the four seconds, and the Doctor, who was to be present at the engagement. The time and the place for the meeting had been well chosen; there was not a creature on deck; the passengers were in the dining-rooms, the sailors in their berths, the officers absorbed with their own particular bottles, and not a steersman on board, for the ship was motionless at anchor. At ten minutes past five the Doctor and I were joined by Fabian and Captain Corsican. I had not seen Fabian since the scene in the smoking-room. He seemed to me sad, but very calm. The thought of the duel troubled him little, apparently; his mind was elsewhere, and his eyes wandered restlessly in search of Ellen. He held out his hand to me without saying a word. “Has not Harry Drake arrived?” asked the Captain of me. “Not yet,” I replied. “Let us go to the stern; that is the place of rendezvous.” Fabian, Captain Corsican, and I, walked along the upper decks; the sky was growing dark; we heard the distant roar of thunder rumbling along the horizon. It was like a monotonous bass, enlivened by the hips and hurrahs issuing from the saloons; flashes of lightning darted through the black clouds, and the atmosphere was powerfully charged with electricity. At twenty minutes past five Harry Drake and his seconds made their appearance. The gentlemen bowed to us, which honour we strictly returned. Drake did not utter a word, but his face showed signs of ill-concealed excitement. He cast a look of malignant hatred on Fabian; but the latter, leaning against the hatchway, did not even see him; so absorbed was he in a profound meditation, he seemed not yet to have thought of the part he was to play in this drama. In the meanwhile Captain Corsican, addressing himself to the Yankee, one of Drake’s seconds, asked him for the swords, which the latter presented to him. They were battle swords, the basket-hilts of which entirely protected the hand which held them. Corsican took them, bent, and measured them, and then allowed the Yankee to choose. Whilst these preparations were being made, Harry Drake had taken off his hat and jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and turned up his sleeves; then he seized his sword, and I saw that he was left-handed, which gave him, accustomed to right-handed antagonists, an unquestionable advantage.