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On the seventh day the sea lay comparatively calm at early dawn.
There was a slight haze upon the ocean which had cut off our view
of the stars; but conditions all pointed toward a clear morrow, and
I was on deck anxiously awaiting the rising of the sun. My eyes
were glued upon the impenetrable mist astern, for there in the east
I should see the first glow of the rising sun that would assure me
we were still upon the right course. Gradually the heavens
lightened; but astern I could see no intenser glow that would
indicate the rising sun behind the mist. Bradley was standing
at my side. Presently he touched my arm.
"Look, captain," he said, and pointed south.
I looked and gasped, for there directly to port I saw outlined
through the haze the red top of the rising sun. Hurrying to the
tower, I looked at the compass. It showed that we were holding
steadily upon our westward course. Either the sun was rising in
the south, or the compass had been tampered with. The conclusion
was obvious.
I went back to Bradley and told him what I had discovered.
"And," I concluded, "we can't make another five hundred knots
without oil; our provisions are running low and so is our water.
God only knows how far south we have run."
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