Five minutes were spent over the chart, then Watkins went above and Jack Harvey came below.
“You have got the coffee ready, I hope, Johnson?”
“Yes, sir, coffee and chocolate. I didn't know which you would like.”
“Chocolate, by all means. Jack, I recommend the chocolate. Bring two full sized bowls, Johnson, and put that cold pie on the table, and a couple of knives and forks; never mind about a cloth; but first of all bring a couple of basins of hot water, we shall enjoy our food more after a wash.”
The early breakfast was eaten, dry coats and mufflers put on, pipes lighted, and they then went up upon deck. Tom took the helm.
“What time do you calculate we ought to make Guernsey, Tom?”
“About twelve. The wind is freer than it was, and we are walking along at a good pace. Matthews, cast the log, and let's see what we are doing. About seven knots, I should say.”
“Seven and a quarter, sir,” the man said, when he checked the line.
“Not a bad guess, Tom; it's always difficult to judge pace in a heavy sea.”
“That's fortunate,” Tom Virtue said; “I shouldn't be surprised if we get a glimpse of the sun between the clouds presently. Will you get my sextant and the chronometer up, Jack, and put them handy?”
Jack Harvey did as he was asked, but there was no occasion to use the instruments, for ten minutes later, Watkins, who was standing near the bow gazing fixedly ahead, shouted:
“There's Guernsey, sir, on her lee bow, about six miles away, I should say.”
“That's it, sure enough,” Tom agreed, as he gazed in the direction in which Watkins was pointing. “There's a gleam of sunshine on it, or we shouldn't have seen it yet. Yes, I think you are about right as to the distance. Now let us take its bearings, we may lose it again directly.”
Having taken the bearings of the island they went below, and marked off their position on the chart, and they shaped their course for Cape Grosnez, the northwestern point of Jersey. The gleam of sunshine was transient--the clouds closed in again overhead, darker and grayer than before. Soon the drops of rain came flying before the wind, the horizon closed in, and they could not see half a mile away, but, though the sea was heavy, the Seabird was making capital weather of it, and the two friends agreed that, after all, the excitement of a sail like this was worth a month of pottering about in calms.