However, since land was before our eyes, we must get nearer to it first.
That cry of "Land" caused an immediate diversion of our thoughts.

I no longer dwelt upon the secret Dirk Peters had just told me--and perhaps the half-breed forgot it also, for he rushed to the bow and fixed his eyes immovably on the horizon.

As for West, whom nothing could divert from his duty, he repeated his commands.
Gratian came to take the helm, and Hearne was shut up in the hold.
On the whole this was a just punishment, and none of the old crew protested against it, for Hearne's inattention awkwardness had really endangered the schooner, for a short time only.
Five or six of the Falklands sailors did, however, murmur a little.
A sign from the mate silenced them, and they returned at once to their posts.
Needless to say, Captain Len Guy, upon hearing the cry of the look-out man, had tumbled up from his cabin: and eagerly examined this land at ten or twelve miles distance.
As I have said, I was no longer thinking about the secret Dirk Peters had confided to me.

Besides, so long as the secret remained between us two--and neither would betray it--there would be nothing to fear.

But if ever an unlucky accident were to reveal to Martin Holt that his brother's name had been changed to Parker, that the unfortunate man had not perished in the shipwreck of the _Grampus_, but had been sacrificed to save his companions from perishing of hunger; that Dirk Peters, to whom Martin Holt himself owed his life, had killed him with his own hand, what might not happen then?
This was the reason why the half-breed shrank from any expression of thanks from Martin Holt--why he avoided Martin Holt, the victim's brother.
The boatswain had just struck six bells.