“Aye, aye, skipper,” Biff said with a smile.
“Now, Derek, where do we head?” Uncle Charlie asked. “Did your father give you any idea where this pearl fishery is?”
“Only a vague one, Captain.” Derek had entered the spirit of the game. “I know that after leaving Treasure Bay Harbor, we head due south—”
“Bring her around, mate,” Keene called to Biff. “Set your compass reading for a southerly run.”
They had left the harbor, and Biff spun the wheel. The cruiser’s bow came around, and Biff held the boat on a due south course.
“He wrote me the spot was about five miles off the main coast of Martinique,” Derek said, “almost directly west of the town of Le François.”
“I know the town.” Keene nodded. “It’s a small fishing village. Ten miles down the coast. Put her at full speed, mate. We’ve got to make a landing before nightfall.”
“There’s a group of small islands off Le François,” Derek continued. “We’ve got to locate the right island. The fishery is a mile off one of them.”
Charlie Keene wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Whew! Not much to go on. There must be a dozen or more islands in that group. Some of them aren’t more than a few acres in area. We’ll make camp on one of the larger ones. Did your father give you any indication of water depth at the fishery?”
“About forty feet.”