There was no sound of wind outside, but the Dulcibella had begun to move in her sleep, as it were, rolling drowsily to some faint send of the sea, with an occasional short jump, like the start of an uneasy dreamer.
“What does it look like?” I called from my sofa. I had to repeat the question.
“Rain coming,” said Davies, returning, “and possibly wind; but we’re safe enough here. It’s coming from the sou’-west; shall we turn in?”
“We haven’t finished your cruise yet,” I said. “Light a pipe and tell me the rest.”
“All right,” he agreed, with more readiness than I expected.
“After Terschelling—here it is, the third island from the west—I pottered along eastward.” [[See Map A]]
“I?”
“Oh! I forgot. Morrison had to leave me there. I missed him badly, but I hoped at that time to get —— to join me. I could manage all right single-handed, but for that sort of work two are much better than one. The plate’s beastly heavy; in fact, I had to give up using it for fear of a smash.”
“After Terschelling?” I jogged his memory.
“Well, I followed the Dutch islands, Ameland, Schiermonnikoog, Rottum (outlandish names, aren’t they?), sometimes outside them, sometimes inside. It was a bit lonely, but grand sport and very interesting. The charts were shocking, but I worried out most of the channels.”