“Is it the albatross’s coming that has changed your mind?” the captain asked him one day.
“Well, yes, it has,” John Block replied; “and I am right, I think.”
“You infer from it that this island lies farther north than we supposed, Block?”
“Yes, captain; and, for all anybody knows, somewhere near the Indian Ocean. An albatross might fly hundreds of miles without resting, but hardly thousands.”
“I know that,” Captain Gould replied, “but I know, too, that it was to Borupt’s interest to take the Flag towards the Pacific! As for the week we were shut up in the hold, I thought, and so did you, that the wind was from the west.”
“I agree,” the boatswain answered, “and yet, this albatross——. Has it come from near, or from far?”
“And even supposing you are right, Block, even supposing we were mistaken about the position of this island, and that it really is only a few miles from New Switzerland, isn’t that just as had as if it were hundreds of miles off, seeing that we can’t get away from it?”
Captain Gould’s conclusion was unfortunately only too reasonable. Everything pointed to the probability of the Flag having steered for the Pacific, far, very far, from New Switzerland’s waters. And yet what John Block was thinking, others were thinking too. It seemed as if the bird from Burning Rock had brought hope with it.
When the bird recovered from its exhaustion, which it speedily did, it was neither timid nor wild. It was soon walking about the beach, feeding on the berries of the kelp or on fish, which it was very clever in catching, and it showed no desire to fly away.
Sometimes it would fly along the promontory and settle on the top of the cliff, uttering little cries.