"Ja," said Peter. "It is Flint."
"My faith, and who else would it?" asked Moira.
"Doubtless you are right," he assented. "Indeed, I do not question it. Our examination of the northern and eastern beaches today failed to disclose a trace of evidence to indicate what had become of the Walrus, and had she sunk some wreckage must have washed ashore. Yes, yes, my friends, our ill-luck is still with us. Flint rode out the storm. But that, Robert, is no reason why we should not secure the maximum of satisfaction from this tasty meal—all the more particularly so when we consider 'tis like to be the last for some days we shall eat in such comfortable surroundings."
"You take it coolly!" I exclaimed.
"And why not? 'Tis a disaster, I grant you, yet irritation will not aid me to redress it."
"You don't stay here, neen?" said Peter.
"Quite right, friend Peter. The Royal James in her present plight would be a death-trap. I shall abandon her tonight and shift to the fort Flint was so obliging as to construct for us by the anchorage."
"And the treasure?" I asked.
He held up his wineglass to the light and studied it reflectively.
"Obviously, we must be where the treasure is," he returned at length. "Or, if you please, put it the other way round: The treasure must be where we are. I foresee a busy night for our people."