In Search of El Dorado | Page 2

lines--the junction of each of
which with the next was indicated by a dot surrounded by a small circle,
against which was a 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