Day after day they stood on, thinking that they must sight Cape Palmas before many hours had passed, and then, after making the land, they found that they could not be many miles farther to the west than they were before.
“Still we might do it, if we could but get a stiffish breeze,” observed Murray. “I think the wind is drawing out more from the north-west and east. What say you, Paddy?”
“Let’s keep at it to the last moment. I’m ready for what you are?” answered Adair.
The schooner was once more put about with her head to the westward.
Everybody whistled as they walked the deck—even the blacks did so—though they did not know the reason why.
The breeze did not come a bit the faster on that account. However, at night it blew pretty strong off the land, and their hopes again revived. But as the sun rose, it backed once more into its old quarter, and once more they had to tack. On making the land, there were the identical hillocks and clumps of trees they had before seen. Murray and Adair agreed that there must be all the time a strong current setting them to the eastward, and this, on running in closer, heaving-to, and trying the bottom with the lead, they found to be the case. Provisions for two days, and less than half allowance, was all they had now got. Murray and Adair consulted together.
“We shall have to make for the nearest port, I fear, after all, or run the chance of starving,” said Adair.
“There is no alternative,” answered Murray, with a sigh. “We have done our best.”
“That we have,” replied Adair quickly. “There is no doubt about that. You have, that is to say—I should have given up long ago. The sooner we shape a course for Cape Coast Castle the better.”
The schooner was kept away to retrace her steps to the eastward. But now the wind fell altogether, and they began to fear that after all they should get nowhere. The little food they had left was very bad. Gradually it disappeared, and at length they literally had nothing eatable on board.