Still, the position of things filled him with anxiety; but, for fear of alarming Glenarvan, he spoke only to Paganel or the Major. McNabbs recommended the same course as Mulrady and Wilson.
“If you think it would be for the general good, John,” said McNabbs, “you should not hesitate to take the command of the vessel. When we get to Auckland the drunken imbecile can resume his command, and then he is at liberty to wreck himself, if that is his fancy.”
“All that is very true, Mr. McNabbs, and if it is absolutely necessary I will do it. As long as we are on open sea, a careful lookout is enough; my sailors and I are watching on the poop; but when we get near the coast, I confess I shall be uneasy if Halley does not come to his senses.”
“Could not you direct the course?” asked Paganel.
“That would be difficult,” replied John. “Would you believe it that there is not a chart on board?”
“Is that so?”
“It is indeed. The MACQUARIE only does a coasting trade between Eden and Auckland, and Halley is so at home in these waters that he takes no observations.”
“I suppose he thinks the ship knows the way, and steers herself.” “Ha! ha!” laughed John Mangles; “I do not believe in ships that steer themselves; and if Halley is drunk when we get among soundings, he will get us all into trouble.”
“Let us hope,” said Paganel, “that the neighborhood of land will bring him to his senses.”
“Well, then,” said McNabbs, “if needs were, you could not sail the MACQUARIE into Auckland?”