I found Mr Trimble in his cabin, in the very act of laying off the ship’s position on the chart, after working up his reckoning. I delivered my message, and by way of reply the master rolled up his chart, tucked it under his arm, seized pencil, dividers, and parallel ruler, and started for the deck, with me close in his wake—for I shared the skipper’s anxiety to know whereabout we were.
“Ah! here you are, Mr Trimble,” exclaimed the Captain, as the master’s head and shoulders rose above the combings of the hatchway. “Have you made up your reckoning?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the master, “and pricked her off. We are just about here, by dead reckoning.” And he made an effort to spread open the chart on the capstan-head. But the paper was stiff from being almost continuously rolled up; moreover, the wind was troublesome—the two circumstances combining to render it almost impossible for the good man to do as he wished unaided. I saw his difficulty, and, stepping forward, seized the two top corners of the chart and held them down, while the skipper gripped the third corner, and Trimble the fourth.
“There we are, sir—or thereabout,” explained the master, pointing with his pencil to a dot surrounded by a small circle, on the paper, with the date written alongside it.
“I see,” remarked the skipper thoughtfully, as he intently studied the open chart. “I suppose,” he said presently, “you have made ample allowance for leeway, and for our drift while hove-to?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the master. “I have allowed a point and a half for leeway, and three knots drift, both of which I reckon are above rather than below the mark.”
“Y–e–es,” agreed the skipper reflectively; “yes, she will not have made more than that, I should think. And you have, of course, also allowed for tide and current.”
“For both, sir,” assented the master; “but, of course, you clearly understand, Captain Vavassour, that the currents hereabout are very irregular. I therefore wish you to accept the position of the ship, as there laid down, as merely approximate.”
“Yes, I quite understand,” answered the skipper. “Now, assuming that position to be correct, Mr Trimble—and we can do nothing else, I think—how far are we from the Penmarks, and how do they bear?”
The master took his dividers, measured the distance, applied the instrument to the margin of the chart, and announced the distance—“Seventy-six miles.”