"Look sir, look! There is the point, the last of the land! It's Bonita Point, if I know this coast at all!"
I sprang into the weather mizzen rigging, and the men, who had noticed the second mate's gestures, did the same at the main. I could see the Point, and knew it, and I knew if we could only weather it we could put the helm up and run into San Francisco in safety. Just then Harmer, who was as cool as a cucumber, struck four bells, and Matthias and a man called Thompson, an old one-eyed sailor, came up to relieve the wheel.
The point which we had to weather was about as far from us as the land dead to leeward, and it was touch and go whether we should clear it or not. The Vancouver made such leeway, closehauled, that it seemed doubtful, and I fancied we should have a better chance if I freed her a little, to let her go through the water faster. Yet it was a ticklish point, and one not to be decided without thought in a situation which demanded instant action.
"What think you, Mac," said I hurriedly; "shall we ease her half a point?"
He nodded, and I spoke to the men at the wheel, and as I did so I noticed the Malay's face, which was ghastly with fear, although he seemed steady enough. But I thought it best to alter the way they stood, for the Englishman had the lee wheel. I ordered them to change places.
"What's that for, sir?" said Matthias, almost disrespectfully. I stared at him.
"Do as you are told, you dog!" I answered roughly, for I had no time to be polite. "I don't like your steering. I have noticed it before."
When the course was altered she got much more way on her, but neared the land yet more rapidly. I called the men on to the poop, for I had long before this determined not to chance the anchors, and looked down into the saloon to see if the women were there.
As I did so Mr. Fleming called me.
"If I can be of any use, Mr. Ticehurst, I am ready."