“It can never make any difference to Inez herself, for her sweet face and winning ways will secure her a welcome and a home in a hundred different places.”
While the mate was indulging in these fancies and reveries, Brazzier and Redvignez were holding an important conference forward.
“I’m sure we won’t have much further to sail,” observed the Spaniard, with a slightly broken accent. “We’re in the latitude of the Paumotus.”
“Have you ever been there?” asked his companion.
“No; but I know something about them, and then you had a glimpse of the chart, which they’re continually looking at, and I’m certain from what you said that the particular spot we’re after isn’t far off.”
“I conclude you’re right, more from the way they’re acting than anything else. I wish I could get hold of that chart.”
“What would you do?” asked Redvignez, with a significant side-glance at his companion.
“What would I do? Why, I wouldn’t wait––that’s all.”
“I don’t see as it will make much difference,” said the other, in the most matter-of-fact voice, as he coolly puffed his pipe. “We might as well take them there and make sure of the spot, before we knock them in the head.”