This was done; and while the carpenter was examining her, and making remarks on the curious way she had been patched up, he found, in the stern sheets, a silk handkerchief, which had been thrust into a hole, over which, evidently, there had not been time to nail any canvas. It had thus been fixed in so tightly, that the water had not been able to wash it out.
The carpenter drew it forth, and opened it.
“Ah, here is a name in a corner, which will go far to prove to whom the boat belonged,” he exclaimed. “If I know how to read, these letters on it spell—‘J. Bowse.’ What do you say, Brown?”
“There’s no doubt about it,” answered the boatswain, shaking his head. “And by the same token, it belonged to the master of the Zodiac, for he used to be very proud of having his handkerchief marked in that way, as it was Mistress Bowse’s own handy work; and, t’other day, when he was aboard of us, he, poor fellow, showed me that very handkerchief, and said his missis had worked him another set just afore he came away.”
The discovery was reported to the captain; but he made no remark on it. He, apparently, had before come to the conclusion, that the boat had belonged to the unfortunate Zodiac.
“Land ahead,” was cried out from aloft, and resounded through the ship; and before the middle of the afternoon-watch, the lofty mountains of Cephalonia rose in view, with the lower lands of Zante to the southward.
The wind freshened, and backing round more to the westward, the Ione stood boldly in for the entrance of the magnificent harbour of Argostoli, and, before nightfall, anchored within a mile of the town.
Captain Fleetwood immediately hurried on shore. With a heart beating with anxiety, he made inquiries about the Zodiac; but nothing had been heard of her, or her passengers and crew. He did not yet despair, and taking an interpreter with him, who was strongly recommended, he returned on board, the anchor was got up, and the Ione stood out of the harbour of Argostoli.
There was little chance of the grass growing under her keel.