"St. Patrick hisself, long loife to 'm! is allus on the lukout for me; an' ye've nothin' to faer as long as Oi'm wid ye's."
"We have no pilot for these waters," suggested Scott.
"You can take a look at the big chart of this locality before we go, and then we shall be all right," replied Louis. "The water here is a hundred fathoms deep, and I believe there is only one island in all the bay."
"But there may be shoal places in the northern part of the bay, and it would not be pleasant to get aground and have to stay all night stuck in the mud," argued Scott.
"The tide rises and falls about four feet here; and by the looks it will not be at the flood before nine or ten this evening; and if we get caught, we can work off any shoal without much trouble. You will be the pilot, Scott, and you must study up the tide and the shoals before we leave."
"In what conspiracy are the big four engaged just now?" asked the commander, as he came out of the boudoir, in which was the grand staircase to the state cabin; and those rather high-sounding names were so marked on the plan of the interior of the ship, made by the original owner before she was purchased for the young millionaire. "Do you intend to set Gibraltar Bay on fire, blow up the Rock, or bridge over the Strait?"
"We may set the bay on fire to-night if it will only burn. Do you see that little steam-yacht, Captain, making for the town?" replied Louis, as he pointed to the pretty craft.
"I see her; and she is quite a handsome steam-launch," answered the commander.
"That is the Salihé, in which Flix and I, with the 'middy,' made the voyage from Madeira to Tarifa," added Louis.
"That? It seems to be quite impossible."