Negoro, alone, did not leave the cabin, which served him for a kitchen; and as usual, of all the crew, he was the only one whom the encounter with a wreck did not appear to interest.

Then all regarded attentively the floating object which the waves were rocking, three miles from the “Pilgrim.”

“Ah! what can that be?” said a sailor.

“Some abandoned raft,” replied another.

“Perhaps there are some unhappy shipwrecked ones on that raft,” said Mrs. Weldon.

“We shall find out,” replied Captain Hull.  “But that wreck is not a raft.  It is a hull thrown over on the side.”

“Ah! is it not more likely to be some marine animal—­some mammifer of great size?” observed Cousin Benedict.

“I do not think so,” replied the novice.

“Then what is your idea, Dick?” asked Mrs. Weldon.

“An overturned hull, as the captain has said, Mrs. Weldon.  It even seems to me that I see its copper keel glistening in the sun.”

“Yes—­indeed,” replied Captain Hull.  Then addressing the helmsman:  “Steer to the windward, Bolton.  Let her go a quarter, so as to come alongside the wreck.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the helmsman.

“But,” continued Cousin Benedict, “I keep to what I have said.  Positively it is an animal.”

“Then this would be a whale in copper,” replied Captain Hull, “for, positively, also, I see it shine in the sun!”

“At all events, Cousin Benedict,” added Mrs. Weldon, “you will agree with us that this whale must be dead, for it is certain that it does not make the least movement.”

“Ah!  Cousin Weldon,” replied Cousin Benedict, who was obstinate, “this would not be the first time that one has met a whale sleeping on the surface of the waves.”

“That is a fact,” replied Captain Hull; “but to-day, the thing is not a whale, but a ship.”

“We shall soon see,” replied Cousin Benedict, who, after all, would give all the mammifers of the Arctic or Antarctic seas for an insect of a rare species.

“Steer, Bolton, steer!” cried Captain Hull again, “and do not board the wreck.  Keep a cable’s length.  If we cannot do much harm to this hull, it might cause us some damage, and I do not care to hurt the sides of the ‘Pilgrim’ with it.  Tack a little, Bolton, tack!”

The “Pilgrim’s” prow, which had been directed toward the wreck, was turned aside by a slight movement of the helm.

The schooner was still a mile from the capsized hull.  The sailors were eagerly looking at it.  Perhaps it held a valuable cargo, which it would be possible to transfer to the “Pilgrim.”  We know that, in these salvages, the third of the value belongs to the rescuers, and, in this case, if the cargo was not damaged, the crew, as they say, would make “a good haul.”  This would be a fish of consolation for their incomplete fishing.

A quarter of an hour later the wreck was less than a mile from the “Pilgrim.”