From that time forward nothing of importance occurred until we arrived in the longitude of the Horn, our passage of this notorious headland being accomplished in gloriously fine weather—for a wonder—with half a gale of wind from the eastward, blowing over our taffrail, to which we showed every rag that we could set upon the hooker. The actual passage occurred in the early morning—about six o’clock, according to our dead reckoning—and upon working out the sights that I had secured after breakfast for the determination of the longitude, I found that we were thirty miles to the westward of it, and far enough south to permit of our shifting our helm for the mysterious island to which we were supposed to be bound. Accordingly, having verified my figures, and pricked off the brig’s position on the chart, I made my way up on deck, and informed O’Gorman of the state of affairs.
“So we’re actually now in the moighty Pacific, eh?” he exclaimed in high elation. “Bedad that’s good news, annyhow, and we’ll cilibrate the occasion by takin’ an exthry tot o’ grog all round, and dhrinkin’ shuccess to the v’yage. But, sthop a minute; ye want to know where ye’re to shape a coorse for, now? By the powers, misther, I’ll tell ye that same in a brace of shakes. Let me go and get the paper out o’ me chist, and I’ll soon make ye as wise as mesilf.”
The fellow hurried away for’ard, and dived below into the forecastle, from which he soon emerged again, bearing in his hand an oblong envelope. From this he carefully withdrew a paper, folded lengthwise, and, opening it, read:
“‘Latichood: Two, forty-eight, forty; south. Longitood: One hundred and forty-four, ten, ten; west. Approach island from nor’-west, and stand towards it with summit of hill bearin’ south-east half-south, which leads through the passage in the barrier reef. Then haul up to south a quarter west for the mouth of the bight’—and that’s enough: there’s no call to read the rest to ye,” he concluded abruptly.
“As you please,” answered I; “I have no desire whatever to know anything more of the matter than what is absolutely necessary to enable me to navigate the brig to the spot, and afterwards to make a civilised port in the shortest possible time. I will, however, have a look at the chart, and ascertain the particular island to which those figures of yours refer.”
“You might as well bring the chart up on deck, and let me see it: I’d loike to see just where we’re bound to, and how long it’ll take us to git there,” remarked O’Gorman.
I accordingly went below, secured the chart, together with a pencil, a pair of dividers, and a parallel ruler, and took the whole on deck. Then, spreading the chart open, I pricked off the latitude and longitude given by O’Gorman, and, to my astonishment, found that the spot was located in open water.
“I am very much afraid that your information is faulty, O’Gorman,” said I, pointing to the spot. “Do you see that? There is no island shown in your latitude and longitude. The nearest land to it is the Marquesas group, and Hiau—the nearest of them—is three hundred and sixty miles distant from your spot.”
O’Gorman stared blankly at the chart for a full minute or more, glared suspiciously at me for nearly as long; looked at his paper again, to assure himself that he had made no mistake; and finally rapped out a string of oaths in his consternation. Then he nipped his profanity short off as a comforting reflection occurred to him.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, “but this oiland as Oi’m talkin’ about is unbeknownst, so av coorse it won’t be drawed on the chart. That’s all right, misther; you navigate the brig to that place, and you’ll find an oiland there, safe enough.”