The cabin was in a deck-house, one side
of which had been beaten in by a heavy sea. Allardyce and I entered it,
and found the captain's table as he had left it, his books and papers--
all Spanish or Portuguese--scattered over it, with piles of cigarette
ash everywhere. I looked about for the log, but could not find it.
"As likely as not he never kept one," said Allardyce. "Things are
pretty slack aboard a South American trader, and they don't do more than
they can help. If there was one it must have been taken away with him
in the boat."
"I should like to take all these books and papers," said I. "Ask the
carpenter how much time we have."
His report was reassuring. The vessel was full of water, but some of
the cargo was buoyant, and there was no immediate danger of her sinking.
Probably she would never sink, but would drift about as one of those
terrible unmarked reefs which have sent so many stout vessels to the
bottom.
"In that case there is no danger in your going below, Mr. Allardyce,"
said I. "See what you can make of her and find out how much of her
cargo may be saved. I'll look through these papers while you are gone."
The bills of lading, and some notes and letters which lay upon the desk,
sufficed to inform me that the Brazilian brig _Nossa Sehnora da
Vittoria_ had cleared from Bahia a month before.
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