“I’ll obey your orders, sir, and sail anywhere,” continued the skipper, frowning very heavily, “but it’s my duty to tell you when you are going wrong.”
“Of course,” said the doctor, “and as you give the place such a bad character, captain, we’ll disappoint Rodd and stay away.”
“Right,” cried the skipper. Then after drawing a deep breath he looked fiercely at Rodd, and then glared at the doctor, who opened his eyes a little, wonderingly.
“Do you know where you are now?” said the skipper.
“Well, not exactly, only that we have been on ground rich in objects such as I wish to collect, and—excuse me, captain—that bottle—your elbow. I wouldn’t have an accident to that for the world.”
“Well, then,” continued the skipper, very gruffly, as he dabbed his big finger down in the middle of the chart, “you are here.”
“Saint Helena,” said Rodd, after a quick glance at the chart.
“Right,” grunted the skipper. “Now, Dr Robson, am I to speak out, or will you send young Mr Rodd here up on deck first?”
The doctor stared.
“I see no reason for sending my nephew away,” he said coldly. “He and I have the fullest confidence in one another.”