"Rotten," he said.
Perhaps he wondered why Miss Maxwell flushed and the others laughed.
But, in actual fact, he was not far wrong in his curious choice of an
adjective that morning. Dr. Christobal's dismal foreboding had been
justified on the second day out. Leaden clouds, a sullen sea, and
occasional puffs of a stinging breeze from the southwest, offered a
sorry exchange for the sunny skies of Chile.
Though the _Kansas_ was not a fast ship, she could have made the
entrance to the Straits on the evening of the fourth day were not
Captain Courtenay wishful to navigate the most dangerous part of the
narrows by daylight. His intent, therefore, was to pick up the
Evangelistas light about midnight, and then crack ahead at fourteen
knots, so as to be off Felix Point on Desolation Island by dawn.
This was not only a prudent and seamanlike course but it would conduce
to the comfort of the passengers. The ship was now running into a
stiff gale. Each hour the sea became heavier, and even the eight
thousand tons of the _Kansas_ felt the impact of the giant rollers on
her starboard bow.
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