In Search of El Dorado | Page 2

note indicating the date, hour and moment of the ship's arrival at each particular spot--showed the track of the ship across the ocean from her point of departure abreast of Daunt Rock, and a thinner, lighter pencil line extending on to New York marked the still untravelled portion of the route. Taking a pencil, parallel ruler and pair of dividers in his hand, Captain Prowse proceeded carefully to jot down the position of the Bolivia, as indicated by her message; having done which he gave vent to a sigh of relief; for he saw that the course which he was pursuing would take the Everest some sixty miles to the north of that point.
"Thank God! that's all right," he murmured. "There's nothing to fear. That patch of drift ice is not in the least likely to extend as far north as our track. Besides, with the precautions that we are observing--taking the sea temperature every half-hour, and so on--and the maintenance of a good look-out, we are perfectly safe. I suppose I ought to tell Brown" (the chief officer) "about this message; but I won't--no; I'll keep it to myself, for the chap's as nervous as a cat, and would want to slow down as soon as the dusk comes. And I don't want that; I mean to make this a record passage, and don't intend to be frightened into losing several precious hours merely because a ship sixty miles to the south'ard of my track reports a little floating ice. No; I'll just issue instructions that everybody is to be on the alert and keep a specially sharp look-out, and let it go at that."
Having come to which conclusion, Captain Prowse left his cabin and joined the officer of the watch on the bridge.
"By Jove! What glorious weather we are having," he remarked genially, as the officer came to his side. "I cannot remember such a spell of it as we have had ever since leaving Queenstown. What's she doing, Mr Dacre?"
"Twenty-six point six, sir, at the last reading of the log, about half an hour ago," answered the second officer; "and she hasn't slackened down any. At this rate we ought to be berthed in New York by noon the day after to-morrow, with a record passage to our credit."
"Ay," agreed the skipper, "that's what I am hoping for in a quiet way. It will be a feather in our caps if we can pull the thing off--and please the owners, too. Have you seen any sign of ice yet?"
"Not yet, sir," answered Dacre, "though I suppose we may expect to see some at almost any moment, now. But the temperature of the water remains quite steady. It is only half a degree colder than it was this time yesterday, and that is no more than one would reasonably expect about here."
"Quite so," assented the skipper. "Well, let the temperature continue to be taken every half-hour regularly, and keep the look-outs on the alert. We don't want any accidents--or even any narrow escapes, on our first trip. The officers of the fleet have a reputation for carefulness, and we must live up to it. Let me know at once if any ice is sighted."
"Certainly, sir," replied the second officer, as the skipper turned away and retired to his cabin.
At half-past nine o'clock that night the ship's band was playing in the grand lounge, and most of the first-class passengers who were not in the smoke-room were promenading or sitting about in that spacious and handsome apartment, listening to the music, or chatting together in couples or little groups. The smoke-room, too, was pretty well occupied, a few of the men reading while the rest were either seated at the tables, playing poker, or standing round watching the play.
At the same hour a little party of the ship's officers who were off duty, of whom Dick Cavendish was one, were gathered in the ward-room, engaged in the conduct of an informal smoking-concert, and Dick was standing at the piano warbling "Dear Heart" to the doctor's accompaniment--it is no longer the fashion for sailors to sing sea-songs--when the proceedings were abruptly interrupted by a jolt--it was scarcely severe enough to merit the term "shock"--instantly followed by a perceptible lifting of the ship's bows and a slight list of her to starboard, while to her smooth, steady, gliding progress succeeded a rapid succession of jerks, accompanied by a sound of rending, distinctly audible in the ward-room in the dead silence that suddenly fell upon the party. Then the bows of the ship were felt to dip and her stern to rise, while her speed slackened so abruptly that those who were standing only retained their footing with difficulty; a final jar, succeeded by a crash, came, and the ship once more