The mate now tried to make them keep on, reminding them that if they did not they would lose their lives. Some answered that they would take their chance, but Jim and I and others kept at our duty. Even we, however, began to feel that the struggle would be useless unless we should soon make the land, for the mate could not deny that the water was gaining on us.
The wind, however, began to moderate, and the sun bursting forth from between the clouds cheered us up a little.
At last the captain came on deck. After looking about him for some time he told me to go below and get his quadrant. He was apparently sober, and seemed to have forgotten what had happened.
“Have you a second one, sir?” I asked.
“No; bring the one I always use,” he answered.
“You hove it at the mate yesterday, sir,” I said. “And he fell and broke his.”
“What lies are you telling, youngster?” he exclaimed, uttering a fearful oath. Then he shouted to the mate, who had gone forward to be out of his way.
“Did I heave my quadrant at you?”
“Yes, you did,” answered the mate. “You made me break mine, too, and if we lose our lives you’ll have them on your head.”
The captain made no reply. I think that the occurrence must have flashed on his mind. He looked at the compass, took two or three turns on deck, and then ordered more sail to be set, directly afterwards changing the ship’s course to north-west. I therefore supposed that we were steering for the Downs, or perhaps for Saint Helens. The men, though very tired, went on pumping far more willingly than before.