Peter went to the skipper's cabin and reported the circumstances of the accident. The Old Man listened attentively until the Wireless Officer had finished his narrative; then he pointed to a chart of Bulonga Harbour that was lying on the desk.
"Show me where the stranding occurred, Mr. Mostyn. What, there? On the port-hand side of the channel?"
"Yes, sir."
Captain Bullock had no cause to doubt Peter's word, but he made up his mind to question the two lascars who were in the boat, and also to see if Miss Baird could throw any light upon the matter.
"H'm. I suppose the river has changed its bed," he remarked. "African rivers have a nasty habit of doing that. It was unfortunate that you struck a snag; otherwise it wouldn't have mattered very much. All right, carry on."
Abdullah Bux and his compatriot could give no definite information. Miss Baird, for the present, was not available. The strident tones of Mrs. Shallop indicated pretty clearly that the lady was bullying the girl for her prolonged and involuntary absence.
At sunrise next morning the West Barbican, drawing considerably less water than she had done eighteen hours previously, recrossed the bar. The Portuguese pilot was dropped, and a course steered to pass through the broad Mozambique Channel. Without exception all on board were glad to get away from the malodorous harbour of Bulonga.
On the afternoon of the seventh day after leaving Durban the weather "came on dirty". A heavy wind from the east'ard raised a nasty sea, which would have been angry but for the torrential downpour of rain that had the effect of beating down the crested waves.
As darkness set in the sky was almost one continuous blaze of vivid sheet lightning. The rain was still heavy but the wind piped down, blowing softly from the nor'-east.
"We haven't seen the last of this yet," declared Preston. "The glass is a bit jumpy. It'll blow like billy-ho before morning. How about your aerial, Sparks? Aren't you going to disconnect it?"