Willis swam to some object that was floating on the water, and returned in about a quarter of an hour, bringing with him a plank.
"Well," he inquired, on landing, "was I wrong?"
"Wrong about what?" inquired Wolston.
"The Nelson is gone."
"The proof, Willis."
"That plank."
"Well, what about the plank?"
"I recognise it."
"How, Willis?"
"How! Well," replied the obstinate pilot, "fish don't breed planks, and—and—I scarcely think this one could escape from a dockyard, and float here of its own accord."