hen I awoke we were at anchor, our deck barely awash, before the deserted beach of Mercer's estate. Still feeling none too well, Mercer and I made our way to the narrow deck.
Captain Bonnett was waiting for us, spruce in his blue uniform, his shoulders bowed as always.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he offered, smiling crisply. "The open air seems good, doesn't it?"
It did. There was a fresh breeze blowing in from the Atlantic, and I filled my lungs gratefully. I had not realized until that instant just how foul the air below had been.
"Very fine, Captain," said Mercer, nodding. "You have signaled the men on shore to send out a boat to take us off?"
"Yes, sir; I believe they're launching her now."
"And the chart of our course—did the return trip check with the other?"
"Perfectly, sir." Captain Bonnett reached in an inner pocket of his double-breasted coat, extracted two folded pages, and extended them, with a little bow, to Mercer.
Just as Mercer's eager fingers touched the precious papers, however, the wind whisked them from Bonnett's grasp and whirled them into the water.