Some more minutes elapsed in this dark dash—straight away we were making it, and we flew no lights. Then Pawlinson swirled us to a tangent.
“You’re not going past Orr’s Island, then?” I cried; but I might have saved my breath for all the attention he paid me.
Perhaps three more minutes it was that we ran thus. Then he whirled on me with a short:
“Off!” I was bewildered, for speed had certainly been the desideratum up to now.
“Off, I said!” he ripped out vexedly. “I’m giving orders here, remember.”
I threw out the switch, and we slumped down to wabbling in the light sea that was running.
Even in the gloom I could see his features working. Then I followed his gaze out over the water toward where Peak’s Island showed darker against the night sky.
And more showed in that direction than that; for two trim masts were swaying slightly against the starred background.
“The schooner!” said I.
“Right—for once.” Pawlinson came out of his silence. “And now maybe you can see why I didn’t run right past the island, eh?”