about here, by dead reckoning." And he made an effort to spread open
the chart on the capstan-head. But the paper was stiff from being
almost continuously rolled up; moreover, the wind was troublesome--the
two circumstances combining to render it almost impossible for the good
man to do as he wished unaided. I saw his difficulty, and, stepping
forward, seized the two top corners of the chart and held them down,
while the skipper gripped the third corner, and Trimble the fourth.

"There we are, sir--or thereabout," explained the master, pointing with
his pencil to a dot surrounded by a small circle, on the paper, with the
date written alongside it.

"I see," remarked the skipper thoughtfully, as he intently studied the
open chart. "I suppose," he said presently, "you have made ample
allowance for leeway, and for our drift while hove-to?"

"Yes, sir," answered the master. "I have allowed a point and a half for
leeway, and three knots drift, both of which I reckon are above rather
than below the mark."

"Y-e-es," agreed the skipper reflectively; "yes, she will not have made
more than that, I should think. And you have, of course, also allowed
for tide and current."

"For both, sir," assented the master; "but, of course, you clearly
understand, Captain Vavassour, that the currents hereabout are very
irregular. I therefore wish you to accept the position of the ship, as
there laid down, as merely approximate."

"Yes, I quite understand," answered the skipper. "Now, assuming that
position to be correct, Mr Trimble--and we can do nothing else, I
think--how far are we from the Penmarks, and how do they bear?"

The master took his dividers, measured the distance, applied the
instrument to the margin of the chart, and announced the
distance--"Seventy-six miles."

"Good!" ejaculated the skipper. "And their bearing?"

The master laid his parallel ruler down on the chart, with its edge
passing through the dot representing the ship's position, and also
through the Penmarks; then he carefully slid the ruler along the surface
of the chart until that same edge passed through the centre of the
compass diagram, and read off the bearing--"No'th-east, half east."

The skipper turned sharply round to the quartermaster.

"How's her head, quartermaster?" he demanded.

The quartermaster glanced into the compass-bowl and answered,
"No'-no'th-east, sir!"

"Excellent!" exclaimed the skipper. "Why, at that rate, Mr Trimble,