"More than likely; but to what end? Had he made for a large city like Lima or even Callao he might escape notice. But in a little place like Nazca, why, he's playing into our hands."
Both men remained silent for a few moments, then Dacres blurted out:—
"It is awfully good of you, sir, to make it all right at the Admiralty for me."
"Nonsense!" protested Captain Whittinghame. "I knew you'd be pleased. One can generally take it for granted that when a young fellow cuts off his nose to spite his face he's genuinely sorry for it, even though he won't admit it. Now, honestly, weren't you jolly sick about having to leave the 'Royal Oak'?"
"I'm very glad I joined the 'Meteor,' sir."
"That's no answer to my question, Dacres."
"Well, then, I don't mind having to leave the 'Royal Oak,' but I'm awfully pleased to find that I am still an officer of the Royal Navy."
"Then, I wasn't far out in my estimation, Dacres. All's well that ends well, you know."
"It hasn't ended yet," rejoined the sub, pointing to the land, which was now only a mile off. "Now for Durango."
Captain Whittinghame telegraphed for the propellers to be stopped. Slowly the "Meteor" descended, alighting on the south side of the town of Nazca.