“That’s very well for you to say, doctor; but when a man’s heart is sick he can’t eat,” answered Linton. “It is the uncertainty of the thing is killing him. Let him once find the young lady, and he will pluck up fast enough; or, let him know the worst, and, as he is a man and a Christian, he will bear his affliction like one, I’ll answer for him.”
“Deck, ahoy!” hailed the captain, from aloft. “Keep her away one point more to the southward.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Saltwell, and every telescope was pointed in the direction the ship was now steering.
Nothing, however, was to be seen from the deck; but the captain still kept at the mast-head with his glass, intently watching some object still below the horizon. At last he descended, and summoned the pilot, with the first lieutenant and master, into his cabin, where a chart was spread out on the table.
“And we may stand safely on towards that island on our present course without fear of rocks or shoals, pilot?” he asked.
The answer was in the affirmative.
“There is a strong current setting from the eastward, you say, and you have known many vessels wrecked attempting the passage? Then, Mr Saltwell, pack all sail on the brig. There is a large boat, or a raft, with a square sail, to the south-east of us, which we will overhaul without delay.”
Royals and studding-sails, alow and aloft, were now set, and away the Ione flew before the breeze. Now the wind fell, and now it freshened; but the brig gained rapidly on the chase, which, by the little way it made, was soon suspected of being a raft. Then came all the horrible doubts and fears, naturally suggested to Fleetwood’s mind—but we will not dwell on them.
“Sail, ho!” sung out the hand at the foremast-head.
“A felucca-looking craft right under the land ahead of us,” was the answer to the usual questions.