This was more puzzling still.  He had said before that, if we continued on the westward tack, we should make San Ambrosio at the time I was expecting to sight Callao, and now, although we were sailing due north, the villains counted on making San Ambrosio all the same.

Where was San Ambrosio?  Not on the coast, for they were clearly looking for it then, had probably been looking for it some time, and the mainland must be at least two hundred miles away.  If not on the coast San Ambrosio was an island, yet how it could lie both to the west and to the north was not quite obvious.  And who was Hux, and why should falling in with him make matters all right for my interesting shipmates?  Of one thing I felt sure—­all right for these meant all wrong for me, and it behooved me to prevent the meeting—­but how?

While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I was pacing to and fro on the sloop’s deck, where was also Angela, sitting on a cobija, and leaning against the taffrail, Kidd being at the helm, and Ramon and Yawl smoking in the bows, for though they did not quite trust each other, they occasionally exchanged a not unfriendly word.  Now and then I glanced mechanically at the compass.  As I have already mentioned, it was not an ordinary ship compass in a brass frame, but a makeshift affair, in a wooden frame, to which Kidd had attached makeshift gimbals and hung on a makeshift binnacle, the latter being fixed between the tiller and the cabin-hatch.  The deck was very narrow, and to lengthen my tether I generally passed between the tiller and the binnacle, sometimes exchanging a word with Angela.  Once, as I did so, the sun’s rays fell athwart the sloop’s stern, and, happening the same moment to look at the compass, I made a discovery that sent the blood with sudden rush first to my heart and then to my brain; a small piece of iron, invisible in an ordinary light, had been driven into the framework of the compass, close to that part of the card marked “W,” thereby deflecting the needle to the point in question, so that ever since our departure from Quipai, we had been steering due west, instead of north by west, as I intended and believed.  The dodge might not have deceived a seaman, but it had certainly deceived me.

“You infernal scoundrel, I have found you out.  Look there!” I shouted, pointing at the piece of iron.  As I spoke Kidd let go the tiller, and quick as lightning gave me a tremendous blow with his fist between the shoulders, which just missed throwing me head foremost down the cabin-hatch, and sent me face downward on the deck breathless and half stunned.  Before I could even think of rising, Kidd, who, as he struck, shouted to Yawl to “kill the Indian,” was kneeling on my back with his fingers round my windpipe.

“At last!  I have you now, you conceited jackanapes, you d——­d sea-lawyer.  Where have you got them diamonds?  You won’t answer!  Shall I throttle you, or brain you with this belaying-pin?  I’ll throttle you; then there’ll be none of your dirty blood to swab up.”