A light was thrown on his motive for changing the sloop’s course by something Ramon had told me when the trouble was over.  Shortly before I awoke he heard Kidd say to Yawl that he would very much like to know where I had hidden the diamonds, and that if they could only keep her head due west, we should make San Ambrosio about the same time that I was expecting to make Callao.

I had never heard of San Ambrosio before; but the fact of Kidd wanting to go thither was reason enough for my not wanting to go, so I bade Yawl steer due north, that is to say, parallel with the coast, and as the continent of South America trends considerably to the westward, about twenty degrees south of the equator, I reckoned that this course should bring us within sight of land on the following day, or the day after, according to the speed we made.

I not only told Yawl and Kidd to steer north, but saw that they did it, as to which, the compass being now always before us, there was no difficulty.  Thinking it was well to learn to steer, I took a hand now and again at the tiller, under the direction of Kidd, whose manners my recent lesson had greatly improved.  He was very affable, and obeyed my orders with alacrity and seeming good-will.

The next day I began to look out for land, without, however, much expectation of seeing any, but when a second day, being the third of our voyage, ended with the same result or, rather, want of result, I became uneasy, and expressed myself in this sense to Kidd.

“You have miscalculated the distance,” he said, “and there’s nothing so easy, when you’ve no chart and can take no observations.  And how can you tell the sloop’s rate of sailing?  The wind is fair and constant—­it always is in the trades—­but how do you know as there is not a strong current dead against us?  I don’t think there’s the least use looking for land before to-morrow.”

This rather reassured me.  It was quite true that the sloop might not be going so fast as I reckoned, and the coast be farther off than I thought—­although I did not much believe in the current.

But the morrow came and went, and still no sign of land, and again, on the fifth day, the sun rose on an unbroken expanse of water.  In clear weather—­and no weather could be clearer—­the Andes, as I had heard, were visible to mariners a hundred and fifty miles out at sea.  Yet not a peak could be seen.  Then I knew beyond a doubt that something was wrong.  What could it be?  Sailing as swiftly as we had been for five days, it was inconceivable that we should not have made land if we had been steering north, and for that I had the evidence of my senses.  Where, then, was the mystery?

As I asked myself this question, Ramon touched me on the shoulder, and whispered in Quipai: 

“Just now Yawl said to Kidd that it was quite time we sighted San Ambrosio, and that if we missed it, after all, it would be cursed awkward.  And Kidd answered that ‘if we fell in with Hux it would be all right.’”