“Will the curve please you, sir?” “Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We take our passage in the _Abraham Lincoln_.” “As you think proper, sir,” coolly replied Conseil. “You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster—the famous narwhal. We are going to purge it from the seas. The author of a work in quarto in two volumes, on the ‘Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds’ cannot forbear embarking with Commander Farragut. A glorious mission, but a dangerous one! We cannot tell where we may go; these animals can be very capricious. But we will go whether or no; we have got a captain who is pretty wide-awake.” I opened a credit account for Babiroussa, and, Conseil following, I jumped into a cab. Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate immediately. I hastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a good-looking officer, who held out his hand to me. “Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” said he. “Himself,” replied I; “Commander Farragut?” “You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you.” I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me. The _Abraham Lincoln_ had been well chosen and equipped for her new destination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressure engines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this the _Abraham Lincoln_ attained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and a third an hour—a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to grapple with this gigantic cetacean. The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after part, opening upon the gunroom. “We shall be well off here,” said I to Conseil. “As well, by your honour’s leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a whelk,” said Conseil. I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the poop in order to survey the preparations for departure. At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last moorings to be cast loose which held the _Abraham Lincoln_ to the pier of Brooklyn. So in a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have sailed without me. I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible expedition, the recital of which may well meet with some scepticism. But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer. “Is the steam full on?” asked he. “Yes, sir,” replied the engineer. “Go ahead,” cried Commander Farragut.