It was exactly while ferreting in Negoro’s kitchen, that he had made that precious discovery, and at the moment when the cook was going to crush the said insect pitilessly.  Thence anger, which, indeed, Negoro took no notice of.

But this Cousin Benedict, did he know what change had taken place on board since the moment when Captain Hull and his companions had commenced that fatal whale-fishing?  Yes, certainly.  He was even on the deck when the “Pilgrim” arrived in sight of the remains of the whale-boat.  The schooner’s crew had then perished before his eyes.

To pretend that this catastrophe had not affected him, would be to accuse his heart.  That pity for others that all people feel, he had certainly experienced it.  He was equally moved by his cousin’s situation.  He had come to press Mrs. Weldon’s hand, as if to say to her:  “Do not be afraid.  I am here.  I am left to you.”

Then Cousin Benedict had turned toward his cabin, doubtless so as to reflect on the consequences of this disastrous event, and on the energetic measures that he must take.  But on his way he had met the cockroach in question, and his desire was—­held, however, against certain entomologists—­to prove the cockroaches of the phoraspe species, remarkable for their colors, have very different habits from cockroaches properly so called; he had given himself up to the study, forgetting both that there had been a Captain Hull in command of the “Pilgrim,” and that that unfortunate had just perished with his crew.  The cockroach absorbed him entirely.  He did not admire it less, and he made as much time over it as if that horrible insect had been a golden beetle.

The life on board had then returned to its usual course, though every one would remain for a long time yet under the effects of such a keen and unforeseen catastrophe.

During this day Dick Sand was everywhere, so that everything should be in its place, and that he could be prepared for the smallest contingency.  The blacks obeyed him with zeal.  The most perfect order reigned on board the “Pilgrim.”  It might then be hoped that all would go well.

On his side, Negoro made no other attempt to resist Dick Sand’s authority.  He appeared to have tacitly recognized him.  Occupied as usual in his narrow kitchen, he was not seen more than before.  Besides, at the least infraction—­at the first symptom of insubordination, Dick Sand was determined to send him to the hold for the rest of the passage.  At a sign from him, Hercules would take the head cook by the skin of the neck; that would not have taken long.  In that case, Nan, who knew how to cook, would replace the cook in his functions.  Negoro then could say to himself that he was indispensable, and, as he was closely watched, he seemed unwilling to give any cause of complaint.

The wind, though growing stronger till evening, did not necessitate any change in the “Pilgrim’s” sails.  Her solid masting, her iron rigging, which was in good condition, would enable her to bear in this condition even a stronger breeze.