"And no wind," added the girl. "Mr. Preston was telling me that in the harbours on this coast it blows from the land from sunset till about ten o'clock, and from the sea from a little after sunrise till ten in the morning. Between times it's usually a flat calm."
The harbour viewed from within looked far more uninviting than it did from the offing. The ebb was in full swing—a turgid, evil-smelling rush of coffee-coloured water. Already the mud-banks fringing the mangrove-covered islands were uncovering and throwing out a noxious mist under the powerful rays of the tropical sun, which was now almost immediately overhead.
Mostyn found himself comparing Bulonga Harbour most unfavourably with the lovely lagoons and coral reefs of the Pacific islands.
"It may be better later on in the afternoon," he remarked. "Say an hour before high water. If——"
He broke off abruptly, for Captain Bullock was descending the bridge-ladder.
"Hello, young lady!" exclaimed the skipper. "What do you say to a run in my launch? I'm sending her up-stream in a few minutes. You'll be snug enough under the double canopy over the stern-sheets."
"It ought to be rather exciting, Captain Bullock," replied Olive, glancing at the surging ebb. "It would be very nice to see what it's like."
"Right-o!" rejoined the skipper. "Mr. Mostyn, will you take charge of the boat? You seem the best man for the job, considering that it's your father's steelwork we are dealing with. Take this letter to a Senhor José Aguilla, who hangs out at a place called Duelha. I'll show you it on a chart. Get him to come down as soon as possible. If he's like the rest of these gentry that will be mañana. In any case, bring back a written reply to this letter."
"Very good, sir."
"Carry on, then. Pass the word for the serang to have the motor-boat hoisted out and the awnings and side-curtains spread. Miss Baird, can you be ready in a quarter of an hour?"