“Rather,” said the lookout.
“Get down below the gunwale and wrap yourself up in this blanket,” said the mate, passing a blanket forward by way of the captain.
John, too, crouched in the bottom of the boat. He got out the guidebook, and found the chart in it with the help of his torch. Then he laid his compass on the middle thwart, so that the black line marked on the rim inside it was nearest to the bows. That was no good, because Swallow was heeling over and the compass was on a slant so that the compass card could not work. He had to hold it in his hand. Even then the card swung a good deal. He held the compass as steady as he could in one hand, while with the other he threw the light of the torch on it and watched to see what point on the card was opposite the black line. It did not keep still, but swung first one way and then the other.
“Almost exactly east,” he said at last. “Now bring her closer to the wind.”
The mate put the tiller down a little at a time and Swallow pointed nearer and nearer to the wind.
“East, East by South, East-Southeast. Southeast by East, Southeast,” he said rapidly.
“She won’t go much nearer than that,” said the mate.
“Keep her so,” said Captain John. “Southeast it is, or jolly near it.” He looked at the chart in the book. “That’ll take her to about here and then she’ll go perhaps a bit better than southwest on the other tack. But the trouble is, we don’t know how far we go on a tack. We’ll just have to sail fairly short tacks and try to keep them about the same length. Then we shan’t be going near the shore on either side. We’ll be able to see by the Rio lights when we are getting near the islands. I’m going to count a hundred, and then we’ll go about. Then I’ll count a hundred on the other tack before we go about again.”