П’ятнадцятирічний капітан

On the Horizon

           The"Pilgrim"scuddedtothenortheastwithaspeedwhichcouldnotbelessthantwohundredmilesintwenty-fourhours,andstillthelanddidnotappear!thatland,America,whichisthrownlikeanimmensebarrierbetweentheAtlanticandthePacific,overanextentofmorethanahundredandtwentydegrees!

           DickSandaskedhimselfifhewasnotafool,ifhewasstillinhisrightmind,if,forsomanydays,unknowntohim,hewasnotsailinginafalsedirection.No,hecouldnotfindfaultwithhimselfonthatpoint.Thesun,eventhoughhecouldnotperceiveitinthefogs,alwaysrosebeforehimtosetbehindhim.But,then,thatland,haditdisappeared?ThatAmerica,onwhichhisvesselwouldgotopieces,perhaps,wherewasit,ifitwasnotthere?BeittheSouthernContinentortheNorthernContinentforanythingwaypossibleinthatchaosthe"Pilgrim"couldnotmisseitheroneortheother.Whathadhappenedsincethebeginningofthisfrightfultempest?Whatwasstillgoingon,asthatcoast,whetheritshouldprovesalvationordestruction,didnotappear?MustDickSandsuppose,then,thathewasdeceivedbyhiscompass,whoseindicationshecouldnolongercontrol,becausethesecondcompasswaslackingtomakethatcontrol?Truly,hehadthatfearwhichtheabsenceofalllandmightjustify.

           So,whenhewasatthehelm,DickSanddidnotceasetodevourthechartwithhiseyes.

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