'What chance do we stand?'
'Frankly, sir, the smallest chance that ever was found at sea,' answered the young mate, rolling up his chart.
'The horrible consideration with me,' said Captain Parry, 'is that the young lady may not be in the boat.'
Mr. Blundell looked slowly round the cabin, but made no answer.
'What do you think?' exclaimed Parry. 'If we fall in with the boat shall we find Miss Vanderholt in her?'
The mate mused, toyed a bit with the chart, rolling and unrolling it, then said:
'From what I overheard the mate say about the entry the young lady made in the log-book, I should argue that the men had been using her civilly from the time of the mutiny. That's in her favour, sir.'
Parry eyed him intently. All the shrewdness in Blundell's brain was working in his face, sharpening his gaze and pinching lips and nose into a lifted look of eagerness whilst he talked.
'There seems to have been no trouble aboard this vessel,' he continued, 'until the mutiny took place. That should signify that the men, taking them all round, were steady as sailors go. No doubt they'd got something in the Nova Scotia way in their captain. He appears to have been one of those captains who, after draining the blood out of men's veins, runs gunpowder in, then applies the fuse. Everybody's aghast at the bloody business, but it's one man's doing.'