I turned about. Miss Croyden was standing behind me. She had, so I argued, removed her stockings and was standing in her bare feet. There is something, I am free to confess, about a woman in her bare feet which hits me where I live. With instinctive feminine taste the girl had twined a piece of seaweed in her hair. Seaweed, as a rule, gets me every time. But I checked myself.
"Miss Croyden," I said, "there is nothing to forgive."
At the mention of her name the girl blushed for a moment and seemed about to say something, but stopped.
"Where are we?" she queried presently.
"I don't know," I answered, as cheerily as I could, "but I am going to find out."
"How brave you are!" Miss Croyden exclaimed.
"Not at all," I said, putting as much heartiness into my voice as I was able to.
The girl watched my preparations with interest.
With the aid of a bent pin hoisted on a long pole I had no difficulty in ascertaining our latitude.
"Miss Croydon," I said, "I am now about to ascertain our longitude. To do this I must lower myself down into the sea. Pray do not be alarmed or anxious. I shall soon be back."