Notwithstanding the loss of the log, Dick had sufficient experience to be able to make an approximate estimate of the schooner’s progress, and after having pointed out to Mrs. Weldon what he imagined was the Pilgrim’s true position, he told her that it was his firm impression that land would be sighted in little more than a week.
“And upon what part of South America do you reckon we are likely to find ourselves?” she asked.
“That is more than I dare venture to promise,” replied Dick; “but I should think somewhere hereabouts.”
He was pointing on the chart to the long shoreline of Chile and Peru.
They both examined the outspread chart with still closer attention.
“Here, you see,” resumed Dick, “here is the island we have just left; we left it in the west; the wind has not shifted; we must expect to come in sight of land, pretty nearly due east of it. The coast has plenty of harbours. From any one of them you will be able easily to get to San Francisco. You know, I dare say, that the Pacific Navigation Company’s steamers touch at all the principal ports. From any of them you will be sure to get direct passage to California.”
“But do you mean,” asked Mrs. Weldon, “that you are not going yourself to take the schooner to San Francisco?”
“Not direct,” replied the young captain; “I want to see you safe on shore and satisfactorily on your homeward way. When that is done, I shall hope to get competent officers to take the ship to Valparaiso, where she will discharge her cargo, as Captain Hull intended; and afterwards I shall work our way back to San Francisco.”
“Ah, well; we will see all about that in due time,” Mrs. Weldon said, smiling; and, after a short pause, added, “At one time, Dick, you seemed to have rather a dread of the shore.”
“Quite true,” answered Dick; “but now I am in hopes we may fall in with some passing vessel; we want to have a confirmation as to our true position. I cannot tell you how surprised I am that we have not come across a single vessel. But when we near the land we shall be able to get a pilot.”
“But what will happen if we fail to get a pilot?” was Mrs. Weldon’s inquiry. She was anxious to learn how far the lad was prepared to meet any emergency.
With unhesitating promptness Dick replied—
“Why, then, unless the weather takes the control of the ship out of my hands, I must patiently follow the coast until I come to a harbour of refuge. But if the wind should freshen, I should have to adopt other measures.”
“What then, Dick, what then?” persisted Mrs. Weldon.
The boy’s brow knitted itself together in resolution, and he said deliberately—
“I should run the ship aground.”
Mrs. Weldon started.
“However,” Dick continued, “there is no reason to apprehend this. The weather has mended and is likely to mend. And why should we fear about finding a pilot? Let us hope all will be well.”
Mrs. Weldon at least had satisfied herself on one point. She had ascertained that although Dick did not anticipate disaster, yet he was prepared in the case of emergency to resort to measures from which any but the most experienced seaman would shrink.
But although Dick’s equanimity had been successful in allaying any misgivings on Mrs. Weldon’s part, it must be owned that the condition of the atmosphere caused him very serious uneasiness.
The wind remained uncomfortably high, and the barometer gave very ominous indications that it would ere long freshen still more. Dick dreaded that the time was about to return in which once again he must reduce his vessel to a state of bare poles; but so intense was his aversion to having his ship so wrested as it were from his own management, that he determined to carry the topsail till it was all but carried away by the force of the blast. Concerned, moreover, for the safety of his masts, the loss of which he acknowledged must be fatal, he had the shrouds well overhauled and the backstays considerably tightened.
More than once another contingency occurred to his mind, and gave him some anxiety. He could not overlook the possibility of the wind changing all round. What should he do in such a case? He would of course endeavour by all means to get the schooner on by incessant tacking; but was there not the certainty of a most hazardous delay? and worse than this, was there not a likelihood of the Pilgrim being once again driven far out to sea?
Happily these forebodings were not realized. The wind, after chopping about for several days, at one time blowing from the north, and at another from the south, finally settled down into a stiffish gale from the west, which did nothing worse than severely strain the masts.
In this weary but hopeful endurance time passed on. The 5th of April had arrived. It was more than two months since the Pilgrim had quitted New Zealand; it was true that during the first three weeks of her voyage she had been impeded by protracted calms and contrary winds; but since that time her speed had been rapid, the very tempests had driven her forwards with unwonted velocity; she had never failed to have her bow towards the land, and yet land seemed as remote as ever; the coastline was retreating as they approached it. What could be the solution of the mystery?
From the cross-trees one or other of the negroes was kept incessantly on the watch.
