"South-west by west, half west," said Paul Kendall, who was the acting sailing-master on duty, giving out the course to the quarter-master in charge of the wheel.
"South-west by west, half west," repeated the latter.
"Where will that take us?" asked Grace Arbuckle, who watched everything that was said and done with deep interest.
"That course will take the ship to a point off Ushant, which is an island near the coast of France, not far from Brest," replied Paul, who took especial pleasure in explaining to her the working of the vessel.
"How far is it from here?"
"From the Bill of Portland, which is the land you see astern of us, the distance to Ushant is one hundred and fifty-seven miles."
"How long will it take us to go there?"
"That will depend entirely upon the wind," laughed Paul. "We are logging ten knots just now, which would bring us off Ushant about ten o'clock to-morrow forenoon. But the wind is going down, and we may not get there till to-morrow night."
"Well, I'm in no hurry; and I rather hope it will not blow very hard," added Grace.
"That's just my wish. If the water only holds out, I don't care."