There, unmistakeably, was the explanation of the irregularity which Pritchard had noticed. The rudder-head was rotten; and the cap-irons of the rudder had worked loose upon the wood, so that the helm, to which the cap-irons were fixed, played a little free to starboard and port before it gripped the rudder-head.
"What do you think, carpenter?" asked the captain, when the four men had recovered their upright position, after bending low to examine the rudder-head by the light of the lantern.
The carpenter shook his head gravely.
"It doesn't look wholesome, does it, captain? You're going to put the ship about, sir?"
"Yes."
"All right, sir. Put her about, and then we'll see what we can do."
The sails were now full with the north-east breeze, which was yet light. The yacht was put about. Her head was set for Silver Bay, and she lay over slightly, steered half a point to the northward of north-west, on the wind with the wind abeam.
When the yacht was tidy once more, the four men came aft to where the man stood at the wheel.
"What do you propose to do, carpenter?" asked the master.
"Well, sir, you see there's no time to be lost. It was a bad bit of timber to start with, and now it's dozed. It's the first rudder she ever had?"