“We couldn’t have been in South Channel,” said the chagrined Bob.
“This is new country to me,” observed Glennie; “but I looked at the chart early this morning, marked the location of South Channel, and could have sworn we started into it when we left this island.”
“Come below, you fellows,” called Bob disgustedly. “You can take the wheel, Dick, and steer by the periscope while I overhaul the charts. There’s no sense wasting time and gasoline like this.”
Bob dropped down the ladder and the rest followed him.
“We’re mixed up, Gaines,” Bob called through the motor-room tube, “and a pilot who knows the coast would be mighty handy about now. Quarter speed while we study the maps. Dick,” Bob added, “run circles off the island while we get our bearings.”
Bob opened the locker and dug up the chart. Laying it on one of the stools, he examined it, with Carl and Glennie looking over his shoulder.
“Here’s where we are now,” said Bob, sticking a pin in the chart, “and there’s the entrance to South Channel just below Mixiana Island.”
“The passage we got into by mistake,” remarked Glennie, “was that crooked little passage that runs into Mixiana Island, bends around in the shape of a big ‘O,’ and then lets us out again at the same place we went in.”
“Exactly,” agreed Bob.