“I’ve no plan,” Maxwell said. “We might find land, and we might not. We might starve to death, or die of thirst, or drown.”
I nodded. “I’ll take the chance.”
Maxwell nodded. “We’ll head eastwards and hope to hit land, or mebbe a ship will find us and pick us up. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you,” I said.
We collected as much water and food as we could, stepping carefully over the sprawling drunken wreckage on deck, and carried our supplies to the gig. Maxwell found a compass and charts in the captain’s cabin, and we lowered the gig into the now-choppy sea and pushed off, eastward.
“Would we not be better heading west?” I asked. “Sail towards the Americas? Then we could get back to the States.”
“See this chart?” Maxwell showed me the chart he had rescued from the captain’s cabin. “That
