“Yes, uncle; phenomena—wouldn’t it be an act of kindness to tell them that we have already made the discovery, and try to show them the part of the ocean where such creatures are to be found?”
“Hum! No, my boy. No. We should be making matters worse. Not only should we be showing the Count and his son that we have found out what they want to keep secret, but we should be robbing them of the honour of their discovery as well. No; let them take us into their confidence if they like, and if they do, so much the better. If they do not—well, the loss is theirs.”
Chapter Thirty Three.
Coast Land.
“Our skipper’s as right as can be, Morny,” said Rodd the next evening, as the lad was once more on board the schooner, and they were sailing gently along about a mile from shore, the brig following pretty close behind with the water streaming down from her scuppers as the work at one of the pumps was still kept up.
For there was the coast, much as he had described, an undulating line of the singular dark green mangrove forest that looked low and dwarfed, and, now that the tide was low, showed to full advantage, the singular ramification of its roots giving the bushy forest the appearance of standing up upon a wilderness of jagged and tangled scaffolding through which the sea washed over the muddy shore.
“Not pleasant-looking, gentlemen,” said the skipper, coming up to them. “Not the sort of place where you would like to settle down and build a country house.”
“Why, it’s horrible,” cried Rodd. “But why should it be so muddy here, instead of being all nice clean sand?”