‘What will a craft of that sort be doing in the middle of this wide sea?’ said I.
‘She may have gone adrift, as you did,’ answered Captain Braine.
‘Is it imaginable that she should be the corvette’s cutter?’ cried Miss Temple, straining her fine eyes, impassioned with conflicting emotion, at the object ahead.
‘Oh, no,’ said I. ‘First of all, the cutter had no sail; next, yonder boat is three or four times bigger than she was; and then, even if she had a sail, I question if she could have run all this distance in the time from the spot she started from.’
I noticed whilst I spoke that Captain Braine watched me with a singular expression, and that his face slightly changed as to an emotion of relief when I had concluded my answer.
‘The lady,’ said he, ‘is speaking of the man-of-war cutter that rowed ye aboard the wreck, and lost ye there?’
‘Yes,’ said I.
‘How many of a crew?’ he asked.
‘Six men and a lieutenant; but the officer was drowned.’
He took the telescope from me, and brought it to bear upon the little sail over the bow, and kept it levelled for some moments. He then put the glass down and said: ‘Have you had any breakfast?’