“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. I don’t know.” Evans felt suddenly inadequate. He wished that he did not have to make this decision. He wondered for a moment what would happen if he got into his bunk and refused to get out. When he was very young he had often had a feeling like that: to lie down somewhere and not move and let unpleasant things take care of themselves.
“I suppose,” he said finally, “seeing as how the wind has died down, I suppose we should take a chance.”
“We’ll make a dash for Kulak if anything goes wrong.”
Evans went to the chart table. Mentally he computed distances and positions. “We’ll take a chance,” he repeated. “Get Martin up.”
Bervick went into his cabin; he came out, a moment later, with Martin.
“Bervick,” said Evans, “you take some men out on deck and get ready to weigh anchor. Martin, you go on down and see how the passengers are doing. Talk to the Chief and tell him we’re leaving right away. We want to get to Arunga tomorrow night.”
Martin and Bervick left together. Evans looked at the compass; he looked at the barometer, and then he looked at the chart. He walked out on deck and watched morning move slowly into the east. The day looked peaceful; there was no way, though, to tell what might happen. There never was any way to tell.
He watched Bervick and several deckhands as they walked on the forward deck, testing the winches, preparing to weigh anchor. Evans went to the telegraph and rang the engine room. He set the markers on Stand By. Almost immediately the Chief rang back.
Evans took a deep breath. Then he opened the window and yelled, “Pull her up!”
Bervick pushed a lever. There was much clanging and rattling. The anchor chain came up easily. Evans let the ship drift slowly with the tide. At last, satisfied that the anchor was free, he gave the engine room Slow Speed Astern.