Slowly the lids of Miles Hathaway moved twice. "No."
"And you think I'm right to go? It's the only thing to do? We'll lose everything, for Pontifex will loot the wreck and be gone before we could get back here and have the cutter after him. But isn't it the only thing to do?"
"Yes," said the eyes of Miles Hathaway.
CHAPTER X
THE WRECK
From Unalaska to the position indicated upon the chart as the resting-place of the John Simpson was, in the rough, six hundred knots—nearly seven hundred miles.
When Tom Dennis wakened, the morning after the Pelican tacked out of the Unalaska channel, he found that she had, with the audacity of all whaling ships, run through Unimak Pass in the dark and was now tearing across the North Pacific at an eight-knot clip, with a stiff south-easter rolling her along bravely.
Dennis realized full well that he must avoid all appearance of suspicions having been awakened in him. When at breakfast Mrs. Pontifex remarked upon the blessed relief of having the cook aboard, Dennis quite ignored the subject therefore, conscious that Ericksen was watching him with keen and predatory gaze.
"And when shall we make that position, Skipper?" he asked.
Pontifex shrugged. "If this breeze holds, it's a three-day run for us. Barring a dead calm, we'll be on the spot—let's see, this is Saturday; we'll be on the spot Tuesday morning without fail. Eh, Mr. Leman?"