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“It might have been a blind, of course, but the Marquesas lie that way. The Spaniard, Mendaña, discovered them long ago. Rich islands, too, and only a week distant with the wind abeam. See, here they are.”

“I doubt it, sir,” I replied. “Christian gave us to understand that it was his intention to seek out an island as yet unknown. He would not have risked settling on a place likely to be visited.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, musingly. “Edwards touched at Aitutaki, I believe?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and as I glanced at the dot of land in the immense waste of waters, a sudden thought struck me. “By God!” I exclaimed.

“What is it, Byam?”

“I must tell you in confidence, Sir Joseph.”

“You have my word.”

“I told you that I could not even hazard a guess, but I had forgotten one possibility. After the mutiny, when we were sailing eastward from Tofoa, we raised a rich volcanic island not marked on any chart. It lies to the southwest of Aitutaki, distant not more than one hundred and fifty miles, I believe. We did not land, but the Indians came out in their canoes, and seemed friendly enough. I questioned one man in the language of Tahiti, and he told me the name of the place was Rarotonga. The mutineers were eager to go ashore, but Christian would have none of it. Yet, when he left Tahiti for the last time, he must have thought of this rich unknown island, so close to the west. If I were to search for Christian now, I should go straight to Rarotonga and be pretty sure of finding him there.”