In the chart-room, glancing curiously at the chart, I measured the
distance with my eye and decided that we were in the neighbourhood of
fifteen miles off Cape Horn.
"With our drift we'll be close up under the land by morning, won't
we?" I ventured tentatively.
"Yes," Captain West nodded; "and if it weren't for the West Wind
Drift, and if the land did not trend to the north-east, we'd be
ashore by morning. As it is, we'll be well under it at daylight,
ready to steal around if there is a change, ready to wear ship if
there is no change."
It did not enter my head to question his judgment. What he said had
to be. Was he not the Samurai?
And yet, a few minutes later, when he had gone below, I noticed Mr.
Pike enter the chart-house. After several paces up and down, and a
brief pause to watch Nancy and several men shift the weather cloth
from lee to weather, I strolled aft to the chart-house. Prompted by
I know not what, I peeped through one of the glass ports.
There stood Mr. Pike, his sou'wester doffed, his oilskins streaming
rivulets to the floor, while he, dividers and parallel rulers in
hand, bent over the chart.
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