This discovery relieved Paul's mind. He had felt compelled to believe that at times during the storm either he or the vessel had been bewitched. In all his long experience he had never seen a vessel make such good weather of things as the Daphne. If he had been in command with a full crew under him he would have poured out oil just as accident had done it. Going aft he paused to tell Emily about the oil and to report everything apparently tight forward.
"A barrel of oil didn't stand for more than thirty hours' steering, did it?" she asked, with pride flashing from her eyes.
In silence Paul went on aft to complete his examination of the ship. It felt strange to have a champion. He found the cabins practically free of water. Everything seemed tight. He stopped for a second in the derelict's door.
"Poor old fellow was out of his head," he muttered. There came to him a picture of the stranger's departure. The loss of this man, with only a flicker of life and mind in him, was but a small thing compared with the destruction of the four-master and all hands in the fullness of strength. But the thought of the derelict moved Paul with a great tenderness. This man had known his father.
"He believed I was 'The Prince,'" he mused. "Well, father, if there's any way of knowing—and I'm sure there must be—you know I've tried to play the game squarely."
An unsettling thought broke in upon this. What had made him think that the derelict was Driscoll, a quartermaster of the Yakutat? He shut his mind against what he believed was a vagary. There was no doubt that he must have been out of his senses many times during the storm.
Making his way through the lounge to the poop he paused to examine the sextant. It was undamaged. It made him think of the chronometer. He hurried below to the chart room and wound it and then went forward.
The pumps were still bringing forth their two black streams. Emily stood beside them oiling their bearings with the touch of an engineer.
"I can't make out where this water is coming from. Either she's strained or it pounded in through the fore hatch," he told her. "Everything about deck seems all right. I've looked overside, too. Everything seems all right there. Her masts went clear of her. How did you manage to close that bulkhead door all alone?"
"I don't know, Paul," she answered frankly. She winced. "I don't know where I found the strength to do it. The whole sea was coming in, it seemed. I remember I was very angry. But I have been thinking about the stranger——" Her eyes filled with tears. "Could it be that I—I shut him out in the night—in that——"