Trask said nothing, but suspected that Jarrow was killing time, especially as the schooner did not go about for a couple of hours, and then on such a sharp angle with her former course that but few miles were gained in approaching the island.
Dinshaw spent the morning pottering over a chart in great excitement, and his manner indicated that he wanted to be left to himself.
All day they tacked up and down, Jarrow explaining that there might be reefs about, although there wasn't a spot of broken water in sight even with the heavy sea that was running after the night's blow.
At one time Trask thought the delay in getting on was due to Peth, for the mate was most deliberate in going about, and it was half an hour after the order had been given to put the schooner on a new tack before Peth got down his jib and shouted for a lee helm.
It was near sundown before they had the island within three miles, whereupon Jarrow so manœuvred that they ran straight in for it, and came to anchor in its lee, behind a reef which ran to the south of and almost parallel with it.
By this time it was apparent to all that the island was the one they were seeking. It stood up out of the sea, green and fresh, except for the single peak, which was dun brown.
Dinshaw declared that this was it, and pointed out the reef which he had painted into his picture, which showed like a white ridge over the greenish water.
"It was here the Wetherall struck," he said.
"But the four palm trees, and the big rock," said Trask; "I don't see them."
"Ah ha!" said Dinshaw, slyly. "I put them in to fool folks. There ain't no palm trees like them I painted."