"It is down here, just off these islands, we are to do the job," the former was saying.
He placed a finger on the chart as he spoke; and, raising himself gently--for death would have speedily followed discovery--the steward drew aside the curtain till he could see the very spot the finger indicated.
The mate started. "I declare I saw the curtain move, sir."
"The motion of the ship, you donkey."
"But I declare I saw a white face peep in."
"Here--here--drink this quickly, or you'll have those 'D.T.'s' again."
Adolphus had slipped speedily back, and he declared to Kep that should he live till doomsday he would not forget the expression on that evil mate's face.
The ship was steered south and away now, and every day the weather got colder and colder. Adolphus had been long at sea, and probably knew as much about plain-sailing as the mate himself, and every time he had a chance he studied the chart, the compass, and the mate's reckoning slate.
"It cannot be long now," he told Kep one evening; "the wind is going down. We'll be becalmed to-morrow, mark my words, not far from the spot where the deed is to be done--the ship scuttled."
He was right, and next morning there was almost a complete calm. A round heaving swell, however, was coming in from the south-east, and the vessel rolled and pitched in a very uncomfortable fashion. The third mate came down below to report that she was making more water than ever.