Half an hour from the time of getting under way, the schooner was curtsying to the deep blue waters of the Pacific. Ahead as far as the eye could see—and much farther—was a vast expanse of ocean.
"Do you mind taking her for a few minutes, Miss Vivian?" asked Burgoyne, standing aside to let the girl grasp the spokes of the wheel. "Yes, south by west, please."
Then, stepping to the motor-room hatchway, he called to Mostyn.
"Finished with the engines, my festive. All hands make sail."
For the next quarter of an hour the three men were busily engaged in hoisting the head-sails, since the wind was almost right aft, and then the fore- and mainsails. In view of the approach of night, they decided to dispense with the jib-headed top-sails. Not until the canvas was well peaked up, and the falls of the halliards neatly coiled down, did the crew relax their efforts, and by that time the highest part of Swan Island had vanished in the gathering darkness.
CHAPTER XXVIII
The "Titania"
The next three days passed without incident. The breeze held steadily, but owing to the foul state of the schooner's bottom, which was encrusted with barnacles and growing marine "whiskers" up to a yard in length, her speed was less than five knots. There were navigation instruments and nautical works on board, so that Burgoyne was able to determine the latitude with tolerable certainty. The finding of the ship's longitude was a doubtful operation, since Alwyn was in ignorance of the exactness of the chronometer, but since the course was almost due south, and the ultimate goal a wide one, Burgoyne felt no misgivings on the score of longitude.
At sundown on the third day the wind died down to a flat calm, and the schooner rolled sullenly in the long swell. So violent was the motion of the main-boom, that the crew were compelled to stow the mainsail. Even then the gaff of the fore-sail was charging about like a flail, while every movable object on deck was chattering with the erratic motion of the vessel.