“Good,” answered Captain Weber, ruling off the course on the chart. “There, that would carry you to somewhere about the latitude of Cape Correnti, and then?”
“It is almost impossible for me to remember,” replied the missionary; “but to the best of my recollection it was east north-east.”
The old captain bent over the chart, once more using the pencil and ruler.
“That would bring you within a short distance of Saint Augustine’s Bay, as it is marked in this chart,” said he, looking upwards at Wyzinski.
“That’s it! That’s the name we gave it, because the vessel was called the ‘Saint Augustine!’” exclaimed the missionary.
“Can you give me any particulars about the entrance to the harbour?”
“None: we ran straight in and straight out. There are two clumps of trees to the right on the spit of land which sweeps into the sea, forming a natural breakwater.”
“To starboard or port?” asked Weber.
“On the right as we ran in, and the vessel passed so close to the bluff on which they stood that I could have thrown a piece of money on shore.”
“What tonnage was the ‘Saint Augustine’? Hitherto you have called her only a vessel.”