“Certainly,” I said; “that is quite clear.”
“Then be so good as to lay that course down on the chart.”
I measured off a distance of four miles with the dividers, and marked it off above the mouth of the creek; then applied the parallel ruler and found the course.
“It is exactly south-east,” said I; “and it will take us close past the southern extremity of this small island.”
“That is quite right,” remarked Smellie, who had been watching me; “and if we happen to sight the land in passing that point it will be an assurance that, so far, we have been steering our proper course. But—bless me,”—looking at his watch—“it is a quarter after nine. I had no idea it was so late. Run away, Mr Hawkesley, and make your preparations. Put on your worst suit of clothes, and throw your pea-jacket into the boat. You may be glad to have it when we get into the thick of that damp fog. Bring your pistols, but not your dirk; a ship’s cutlass, with which the armourer will supply you, will be much more serviceable for the work we have in hand to-night.”
I hastened away, and reached the deck again just in time to see the men going down the side into the boats after undergoing inspection.