GETTING DOWN TO "BRASS TACKS"
In a moment the chart was taken down from its hook and spread out on Tyke's big desk. With shaking fingers the old man found the line of longitude indicated on the pirate's map, and followed it down till he came to the thirteenth degree of latitude.
"Thirteen-ten; sixty-seven-three," he muttered. "Thirteen degrees, ten minutes latitude; sixty-seven degrees, three minutes longitude. There it is!" and he made a mark with his pencil on the chart. "Right down there in the Caribbean, west of Martinique. Glory Hallelujah!"
The old man was as frisky as a colt, and under the stimulus of excitement the years seemed to drop away from him.
Captain Hamilton was quite as delighted, though he did not give so free a rein to his emotions.
"Splendid!" he beamed. "When we can actually get down to figures, it begins to look like business. Of course, there are innumerable small islands down that way. But it won't take much cruising around to try them all."
Once more he studied the shape and the size of the island, and his brows knitted almost to a scowl, so close was his concentration.
"That elevation in the middle looks something like a whale's hump," remarked Drew.
Captain Hamilton jumped as though he had been shot.
"That's it!" he cried. "By Jove! I know that island! I remember thinking that very thing about it one day some years ago when I was coming up from Maracaibo. My mate was standing by me at the time. It was just as sunset, and the island stood out plain against the sky. I remember saying to him that it looked to me just like the hump of a whale. Now we've located it sure. I'll recognize it the minute my eyes fall on it whether it's charted or not. My boy, you're a wonder. You've helped us out at every turn in this business."