CHAPTER XIX
JIMMY DALE
"That," said Captain Simmons, "is Braxa."
He pointed out ahead to where the desolate-looking sandy coast that they had been skirting for some hours rose suddenly into an irregular line of hills and cliffs.
"If you have a look through these," he added, "you'll be able to see the entrance to the bay."
Tony, who was standing beside him on the bridge, lightly clad in blue silk pyjamas and a Norfolk jacket, took the proffered glasses and levelled them in the direction indicated. In the bright early morning sunshine he could plainly make out the small opening in the coastline, behind which a number of pink and white houses could be seen straggling picturesquely up the hillside.
"It looks a very nice place," he said generously. "How long do you think it will take us to get there?"
Captain Simmons glanced at his watch. "We shall make the point in about three quarters of an hour," he said. "We ought to be at anchor by half-past nine."
"In that case," said Tony, "I shall go and have some breakfast. I shall be much too excited to eat eggs and bacon when we're once in the harbour."
He left the bridge, and after pausing for a moment on the warm deck to take another appreciative glance round at the sunlit expanse of blue sky and foam-flecked sea, he pursued his leisurely way down the main companion to his cabin.