“You have been playing tricks,” said the captain impatiently.
“On my word as a man and a sailor, sir,” replied Bruce, “I know no more about this matter than just what I told you.”
The captain mused, seated himself, and handing over the slate to the mate, said, “You write on the back of this slate, Steer to the Nor’-West.”
Bruce did as required, and the captain narrowly compared the two writings; they differed entirely.
“Send down the second mate,” he ordered.
Bruce did as required. On entering the cabin, the captain bade him write the same words, and he did so. The handwriting was again different. Next, the steward was sent for, as also every one of the crew who could write, and the result was the same. At length the captain said, “There must be a stowaway. Have the ship searched. Pipe all hands on deck.” Every corner of the vessel was explored, but all in vain. The captain was more perplexed than ever. Summoning the mate to attend him in the cabin, and holding the slate before him, he asked Bruce what he considered this might mean.
“That is more than I can say, sir,” replied Bruce, “I saw the man write, and there you see the writing. There must be something in it we don’t understand.”
“Well,” said the captain, “It does look like it. We have the wind fine, and I have a good mind to keep her away and see what comes of it all.”
“If I were in your place, sir, that is what I would do. It’s only a few hours lost, at the worst.”
“It shall be so. Go and give the course Nor’-west, and, Mr. Bruce, have a good look-out aloft; and let it be a hand you can depend upon.”