‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘But I expect we’ll roll up the topgallant-sail and mainsail when Butler wakes up.’
‘Shall the four of us be able to manage till we reach Tristan?’ said I.
Mr. Bates gazed at me thoughtfully without speech.
‘Marian,’ said my cousin, ‘can’t you get this island scheme out of Butler’s head?’
‘I like it!’ I cried quickly.
‘The island’s a long way off,’ said Mr. Bates.
‘How far?’ said I.
‘About two thousand miles, Miss Johnstone.’
‘How long will it take us to get there?’
‘Perhaps a fortnight, perhaps a month,’ answered Mr. Bates.