But no nearer than just a glimpse. He made a firm resolution never to push the prow of the Lass into Flagg Cove until he stood clear of the charges 206 against him. He admitted that it might take years, but his resolution was none the less strong.
His place of confinement was on the starboard side of the Albatross, and he was gratified after a few minutes to see the sun pouring through his porthole.
Despair had left him now, and he was quietly cheerful. With something akin to pleasure that the struggle was over, and that events were out of his hands for the time being, he settled down in his chair and picked up a magazine.
He had hardly opened it when a thought occurred to him. If the course was north a little west, how did it happen that the sun streamed into his room, which was on the east side of the ship on that course?
He sprang to the port and looked out.
The sun smote him full in the face. He strained his eyes against the horizon that was unusually clear for this foggy sea, and would have sworn that along its edge was a dark line of land. The conclusion was inevitable.
The Albatross was flying directly south as fast as her whole spread of canvas could take her.
Schofield could not explain this phenomenon to himself, nor did he try. The orders that a man-of-war sailed under were none of his affair, and if the captain chose to institute a hunt for the north pole 207 before delivering a prisoner in port, naturally he had a perfect right to do so. It was possible, Code told himself, that another miserable wretch was to be picked up before they were both landed together.
Whatever course Captain Foraker intended to lay in the future his present one was taking him as far as possible away from Grande Mignon, St. Andrew’s, and St. John’s. And for this meager comfort Code Schofield was thankful.
The sun remained above the horizon until six o’clock, and then suddenly plumped into the sea. The early September darkness rushed down and, as it did so, a big Tungsten light in the ceiling of Code’s room sprang into a brilliant glow, the iron cover to the porthole being shut at the same instant.