“The Pathfinder!” said Mr. Waycock. “Haven’t you heard? She was wrecked last week on the Snappers. She’s a total loss.”
“On the Snappers!” Sard said. “How on earth did she get there? Are all hands saved? Is Captain Cary safe?”
“You’ve not heard then,” Mr. Waycock said. “Of course you couldn’t have heard. No, all hands are not safe. They had pestilence on board. Captain Cary is dead. He died some days before the ship went ashore.”
“Dead!” Sard said. “But he was well when I saw him. How did you hear this?”
“We had a cable from Port Matoche where the crew were landed,” Mr. Waycock said. “Here it is. It gives just the bare facts, but if you come here to-morrow morning at nine o’clock, the crew will be here with Mr. Dorney. Mr. Hopkins is still in hospital. The rest will be coming in this evening by the mail. You can see them here in the morning. Here’s Dorney’s cable as far as it goes.”
Sard looked at the flimsy.
“I’m glad Captain Cary didn’t lose her,” he said. “But how did they put her on the Snappers?”
“Well, she came down on both knees like a riderless horse,” Mr. Waycock said. “They had a fever on board. I don’t know more than that.”
“Yes,” Sard thought to himself. “I know the kind of fever they’ve had on board, Captain Cary dead and myself not there, Hopkins ill and Dorney who can’t navigate, a man who doesn’t hold with sights but can foodge a day’s work, as he calls it.”
“Are they bringing Captain Cary’s body, sir?” he asked.