"How? why? what island? what do you mean?" cried Mrs. Weldon incredulously; "what island can it be?"
"The chart perhaps will tell us," replied Dick; and hurrying off to his own cabin, he immediately returned with the chart in his hands.
After studying it attentively for a few minutes, he said,-
"There, Mrs. Weldon; the land we have just passed, I should suppose must be that little speck in the midst of the Pacific. It must be Easter Island. At least, there seems to be no other land which possibly it could be."
"And do you say," inquired Mrs. Weldon, "that we have left it quite behind us?"
"Yes, entirely; almost to windward."
Mrs. Weldon commenced a searching scrutiny of the map that was outspread before her.
"How far is this," she said, after bending a considerable time over the chart; "how far is this from the coast of America?"
"Thirty-five degrees," answered Dick; "somewhere about 2500 miles."
"What ever do you mean?" rejoined the lady astonished; "if the 'Pilgrim' is still 2500 miles from shore, she has positively made no progress at all. Impossible!"