Chapter 11—Rough Weather
During the ensuing week nothing particular occurred on board. The breeze still freshened, and the “Pilgrim” made on the average 160 miles every twenty-four hours. The speed was as great as could be expected from a craft of her size.
Dick grew more and more sanguine in his anticipations that it could not be long before the schooner would cross the track of the mail-packets plying between the eastern and western hemispheres. He had made up his mind to hail the first passing vessel, and either to transfer his passengers, or what perhaps would be better still, to borrow a few sailors, and, it might be, an officer to work the “Pilgrim” to shore. He could not help, however, a growing sense of astonishment, when day after day passed, and yet there was no ship to be sign
