It almost seemed that Ponting was right, that no ships would venture into that sea between the islands and the shore, and that their only hope of rescue lay in that bay away to the west, heaven knew how far.
Then an idea came to her. Two ships had already been here for certain: the wreck and the ship of Captain Slocum, then there was the cache, some ship must have left that.
She told Raft what was in her mind but got little consolation from him. He opined that the wreck wouldn’t have been a wreck if she had kept clear of this dangerous water, that the cache might have been left by people who had landed somewhere else, and as for Captain Slocum’s ship she might have been a whaler. Whalers according to Raft were always off the beaten track and poking their noses into places where honest deep sea ships would not dare to go.
“Well, then,” said she, “how about that bay you spoke of?”
“Oh, that place,” said Raft.
“Yes.”
He hung silent for a moment as if revolving the question in his mind.
“But you were set against it,” said he at last.
“Yes, I know, but I am stronger now, and it seems useless staying here till perhaps the winter comes.”
She paused and looked towards the islands. She hated the idea of that journey which she pictured over rocks and across plains, where? In search of a place that might not exist, and where, if it did exist, no ship might perhaps be found. An almost hopeless journey involving unknown hardships.