“Pray, captain, come and look at the compass. Do you see the lay o’ the needle? We’re sailing west to hold north, or else the sun has missed stays over night and come up in the north himself.”
“Hi, hi! That’s parlous odd. Keep her as you have her, and have out Bill, the carpenter, to see if there’s any iron overside. Nay, let her off a little more, for that’s a hard-looking piece of shore out yonder, for all of the palms and green stuff.”
The watch was changed presently, the captain preferring to take the biscuit and spirits that were his breakfast on the deck. He went to the compass every minute or so, looked curiously at the draw of the sails and studied the water alongside. The carpenter had reported all sound, with no iron out of place to deflect the needle. There was a grave look on the faces of the officers, and the men talked low together as they watched them.
“Strange-looking hill out yonder,” remarked a mate. “Not a tree on it, nor any green thing. ’Tis black and shining enough for the devil’s grave-stone.”
“Have done with your gossip of devils,” snorted the other mate. “You’re as evil a man for a ship’s company as a whistler. You’ll be calling ill luck on us to name the fiend so often.”
“Looks like shoal water forward, sir,” called the new lookout.
“Right! Head her away to port yet farther. Look you, fellow, have you no inkling of your business? You’ll have us all ashore. Mary, mother! Give me the helm!” With sweat bursting from his brow the captain caught the tiller and put it hard over. The ship shook a bit, swerved, yet made side-wise toward the green patch on the sea. The land was looming large now.
“’Tis not in the rudder to keep her off, sir,” called a mate who had gone forward. “’Tis the leeway she is making.”
“There’s a scant breeze.”
“Ay, but there must be a fearsome current.”