“Seen what?” asked Tollemache, without removing his pipe. “The land, my bonnie lad. We-ah wunnin’ wight in now.” “We’ve been doing that for hours.” “Yes, but this is diff’went. The’aw’s a fine wiv-ah ahead. Have ye ev-ah seen the Tyne? Well, just shove Sooth Sheels an’ Tynemouth a few hundwed feet high-ah, an’ you’ve got it. Now, don’t twy to talk, or you might cwack yo’ face.” With this Parthian shaft of humor he vanished towards the forecastle, whence the ubiquitous donkey-boiler, through one of its long arms, would shoot forth the stockless anchors at the touch of a lever. Tollemache, who had already glimpsed the coast, strolled out on deck and bent well over the side in order to look more directly ahead. He could see one half only of the view, but that sufficed. “A respite!” he growled to himself. “Penal servitude instead of sudden death.” And, indeed, this was the true aspect of things, as Courtenay discovered when he had successfully brought the ship past three ugly reefs and dropped anchor in the backwater of a small sheltered bay. He speedily abandoned the half-formed hope that the _Kansas_ might have run into an ocean water-way which communicated with Smyth Channel. The rampart of snow-clad hills had no break, while a hasty scrutiny of the chart showed him that the eastern coast of Hanover Island had been thoroughly surveyed. Yet it was not in human nature that he should not experience a rush of joy at the thought that, by his own efforts, he had saved his ship and some, at least, of the lives entrusted to his care. He was alone when the music of the chains in the hawse-pipes sounded in his ears. The _Kansas_ had plenty of room to swing, but he thought it best to moor her. Believing implicitly now that he would yet bring his vessel into the Thames, he allowed her to be carried round by the fast-flowing tide until her nose pointed seaward, and she lay in the comparatively still water inshore. Then he dropped the second anchor and stepped forth from the chart-house. His long vigil was ended. Some of the cloud of care lifted from his face, and he called cheerily to Joey. “Come along, pup,” he said. “Let us sample Dr. Christobal’s cookery. You have shared my watch; now you shall share my breakfast. We have both earned it.” It was in his mind to knock loudly on Elsie’s door and awaken her; therefore he was dimly conscious of a feeling of disappointment when he saw her, in company with Christobal, leaning over the rail of the promenade deck, and evidently discussing the weird beauty of the scene spread before her wondering eyes.