his broadside? I had another bit of luck in that. He was luffing
towards the north--so it struck me through the blur--and when I in my
turn came up to the bank, and had to turn one way or the other to
avoid it, I think I should naturally have turned north too, as he had
done. In that case I should have been done for, for I should have had
a mile of the bank to skirt before reaching the north channel, and
should have driven ashore long before I got there. But as a matter of
fact I turned south.'

'Why?'

'Couldn't help it. I was running on the starboard tack--boom over to
port; to turn north would have meant a jibe, and as things were I
couldn't risk one. It was blowing like fits; if anything had carried
away I should have been on shore in a jiffy. I scarcely thought about
it at all, but put the helm down and turned her south. Though I knew
nothing about it, that little central channel was now on my port
hand, distant about two cables. The whole thing was luck from
beginning to end.'

Helped by pluck, I thought to myself, as I tried with my landsman's
fancy to conjure up that perilous scene. As to the truth of the
affair, the chart and Davies's version were easy enough to follow,
but I felt only half convinced. The 'spy', as Davies strangely called
his pilot, might have honestly mistaken the course himself,
outstripped his convoy inadvertently, and escaped disaster as
narrowly as she did. I suggested this on the spur of the moment, but
Davies was impatient.

'Wait till you hear the whole thing,' he said. 'I must go back to