He found that the Petrel had only travelled five miles in the last twenty-four hours. He was seventy miles north of the equator, and his longitude by dead-reckoning (he had, as has been explained, no chronometer on board) was about 30° west, so that he was distant some five hundred miles from Cape St. Roque, the most easterly point of the New World.
Soon after noon the dark bank of cloud rose rapidly from the horizon and overspread the whole heavens; the rain began to pour down as it only can in these equatorial regions, and a fresh breeze from the south-east cooled the heated atmosphere.
The sails were hoisted, and the yacht ran some two or three miles; then the hopeless calm fell again, and there was not a cloud to be seen in the blue vault above. The sails flapped to and fro with a loud noise as the vessel rolled in the swell which the breeze had left behind it.
"Oh, this accursed calm!" cried Carew impatiently; "down with all your canvas again."
The men obeyed, grumbling at their ill-luck, and then resumed their game of monte.
In the afternoon the heat became more oppressive than ever, and it was impossible to stay below; so all hands remained under the awnings on deck.
The mate, after pondering for some while, said to Carew, "We shall run short of water if this continues much longer."
"I have thought of that. We must serve out a smaller allowance."
"Buenos Ayres is a long way off yet, captain. Would it not be well to put into some Brazilian port for water and vegetables? This heat is very trying on a small vessel like this. We shall have illness on board if we are not careful."
"I do not wish to break the voyage anywhere, unless it is absolutely necessary," Carew replied.