I turned from him, assenting with a gesture, and walked aft, miserably sick at heart, to receive Miss Temple, who at that moment appeared in the companion way. She instantly perceived by my face that there was something gravely wrong with us, and fixed a look of nervous passionate inquiry upon me. There was no purpose to be served by concealing my fears from her—fears which, shapeless as they might now be, were, I did not question, to be converted presently into bitter convictions. I took her hand and conducted her to the skylight, where we were out of earshot of the helmsman.
‘I am afraid,’ said I, ‘that the death of Captain Braine has thickened the problem of this adventure for us.’
‘What has happened?’ she demanded.
‘When I went below at four o’clock this morning,’ I replied, ‘the Lady Blanche was looking up for the port of Rio as closely as the wind permitted her. Since then, Mr. Lush has taken it upon himself to alter the vessel’s course, and we need but another point or two of southing to be sailing straight away—down the South Atlantic Ocean.’
‘But the ship is now being steered for Rio?’
‘No.’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘Why do you not order the man to direct her according to your wishes?’ And she sent one of her flashing glances at the hairy face of the sailor who grasped the spokes.
‘The crew are coming aft presently to settle the question of our destination. I can do nothing. If they have made up their minds to a course, they are not going to suffer me to get in the road of it.’
‘But what course? What resolution are they likely to form?’ she exclaimed, clasping her hands with a gesture of despair, and gazing forwards with an expression of terror at a group of fellows who stood at the galley door talking.
‘I know nothing, and can tell you nothing,’ I replied. ‘It is to signify another tax upon our patience, and we must wait. Some destination they are bound to hit upon; it will not be Rio, I believe. We shall see. They cannot do without me—that is, I alone am capable of navigating the vessel—and in that may lie our security. But one thing you must help me to achieve, Miss Temple: I mean a behaviour of coolness, good temper, and tact. I believe the devil himself is lodged in the hide of that round-backed brute of a carpenter, and the crew may not be wanting in some of the highest flavoured of his agreeable qualities. Help me, then, to the most inoffensive and patient of attitudes, and say nothing yourself—nay, look nothing! for those dark eyes of yours have a hot eloquence of their own, and a man need not hear your rich voice to know what is passing in your mind.’