"I might easily forget those figures," he observed.
Merrick wondered, but said nothing.
Once more comfortably in the cabin, and clad in his usual garments, Hewitt asked if Merrick could produce a chart of the parts thereabout.
"Here you are," was the reply, "coast and all. Big enough, isn't it? I've already marked the position of the wreck on it in pencil. She lies pointing north by east as nearly exact as anything."
"As you've begun it," said Hewitt, "I shall take the liberty of making a few more pencil marks on this." And with that he spread out the crumpled note of figures, and began much ciphering and measuring. Presently he marked certain points on a spare piece of paper, and drew through them two lines forming an angle. This angle he transferred to the chart, and, placing a ruler over one leg of the angle, lengthened it out till it met the coast-line.
"There we are," he said musingly. "And the nearest village to that is Lostella—indeed, the only coast village in that neighbourhood." He rose. "Bring me the sharpest-eyed person on board," he said; "that is, if he were here all day yesterday."
"But what's up? What's all this mathematical business over? Going to find that bullion by rule of three?"
Hewitt laughed. "Yes, perhaps," he said, "but where's your sharp look-out? I want somebody who can tell me everything that was visible from the deck of this tug all day yesterday."
"Well, really I believe the very sharpest chap is the boy. He's most annoyingly observant sometimes. I'll send for him."
He came—a bright, snub-nosed, impudent-looking young ruffian.