"What an extraordinary class of men sailors are!" remarked Sir Edgar, as the man Martin, having brought his narrative to a conclusion, and being dismissed by me, turned and shambled away forward with the usual careless, leisurely gait affected by forecastle Jack. "Here is a man who has just escaped--and is, moreover, the only survivor of--a catastrophe absolutely unique, I should say, in naval history, yet he is as unconcerned and undemonstrative over it as though the destruction of a ship by a meteorite were quite an everyday occurrence. Is such extraordinary _sang-froid_ usual, or is this an exceptional example?" "Oh dear, no," I laughingly replied; "there is nothing in the least unusual in Martin's demeanour, which, however, is doubtless partly assumed. It is not regarded as quite correct form to exhibit any excitement whatever over an adventure of which one's self has been the hero; but, apart from that, sailors are so accustomed to carry their lives in their hands, and become so hardened to danger by being constantly brought face to face with it--often without a second's warning, and sometimes in the most unexpected shapes--moreover, they witness from time to time such startling and inexplicable phenomena, that it is really difficult to provoke anything like a display of genuine, unmitigated surprise or excitement on their part. Whatever happens--unless it be something very distinctly suggestive of the supernatural--Jack is always prepared for it." "So it would appear," assented the baronet. "But candidly now, captain, is not this present voyage of ours rather an eventful one?"