By daylight and starlight my staunch ship bounded along on her course as if some friendly nereids were pushing at her stern. In the long watches of the night I lay in my hammock and pictured to myself that Roman galley as it bore those seven exiles with kith and kin away from their beloved land forever.
Ere another moon had bent her crescent in the evening sky we had reached the Cape, and came to anchor with intent to overhaul our ship most thoroughly before going farther southward.
This occupied several days.
I chafed under the delay.
Ten times a day I summoned the ship’s master to my cabin and urged him to make greater haste. He bore with me most patiently. My heart gave a leap, when, at last, I heard the master order the crew to set the sails.
The seamen were singing and tugging away at the main-sheets as I stepped upon the deck.
“How shall I head her, little Baron?” asked the master, raising his hand to his cap.
“Dead to the southward!” I replied.
He stood transfixed.
He had thought that we would round the Cape and follow the usual course to the Indies.