"Not a bit of it."
The orders were given, and the dingey brought up to the gang steps. Farr sprang in and they pushed off, heading once more for land.
Churchill pulled a cigar-case from his pocket and held it out to his companion, and then a brief silence ensued while each procured a light.
"You've been something of a recluse for the last few days, Farr; I haven't seen you about. Been sticking close to your quarters?"
"I've been grinding at the charts. Our stay here is about at an end, and Dodd is a little dissatisfied with the progress of our work. Through one cause and another we have been delayed, and the work has dragged."
"That doesn't seem to concern Dudley at all. He's ashore most of the time."
Farr laughed indulgently.
"Oh! Dudley's a lazy Southerner. You can't hustle him. He's the salt of the earth, when you have plenty of time; but you can't impress him with the necessity of haste."
"When do you go, old man?"
Farr took his cigar from between his lips, and watched the cloud of smoke as the breeze bore it far astern.