"You see the difficulty," he said at last. "There is no corroboration of your story, and I can take no action. I will have an inquiry into Adams's disappearance, of course, but I fear nothing will come of it." He rubbed his hands nervously. "I wish to God it would."
This was astounding from the man, but, as I looked into his eyes, I could see how deeply his nervous system had been shocked, and once more I despaired of such a captain in such circumstances. I carried my misgivings to Legrand, with whom the events of the night had seemed to bring me in closer relationship.
"The old man's all right," he said. "A better seaman doesn't exist. There's nothing he doesn't know."
"Except human nature," said I.
"Well, that may be. But who knows much about that?" said the second officer, setting his sextant. "You say we're slumbering over a volcano. I daresay we are. It's more or less what we're paid to do, and take all risks. Things are quiet enough now, anyway."
Was this another sceptic, where I had sought to find an ally?
"I am used by this to ridicule," I began drily.
"Who on earth is ridiculing you?" he asked. "You have only given us something to think of—and something pretty tall, too."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose it is my word against Holgate's," I said wearily.
"Holgate's!" he said, lowering his sextant swiftly. "Holgate's! I wouldn't trust Holgate if he were on a dozen oaths—not if he were swung at a yard-arm, and were making Christian confession," he said passionately.