“Well?”
“I think, sir,” I continued, “that was done merely to speak us; and if she bore away again, as she was probably forced to do, being at the mercy of the gale, she must be scudding even more to the southwards, almost due south, I should fancy, as the wind has backed again more to the nor’ard since this.”
“I fancy the same, my boy. I see you have a sailor’s eye and have got your wits about you. Quartermaster?”
“Aye, aye, sir?”
“Let her off a point or two gradually until you bring her head about sou’-sou’-west, and keep her so.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Atkins, easing her off as required. “Sou’-sou’-west it shall be, sir, in a minute.”
“That will bring us across her, I think,” said the skipper to me. “But we must go a little faster if we want to overtake her. What are we doing now, eh?”
“I don’t quite know, sir,” I answered to this question. “I was only just coming up on the bridge to relieve Mr Spokeshave when I sighted the ship and have not had time to look at the indicator. I should think, though, we’re going eight or nine knots.”
This didn’t satisfy the skipper, so he turned to the first mate, who had remained moodily aloof with Spokeshave at the end of the bridge.
“Mr Fosset,” he sang out abruptly, “what are the engines doing?”