"Stop a bit," I exclaimed; "I want to show you something."
I entered the captain's cabin, procured a chart of the North and South Atlantic, including the eastern American coast, and spread it upon the table.
"The two thousand miles I have given you," said I, "would bring you right off the Mississippi. See here."
He rose and stooped over the chart.
"The short cut to the Gulf," I continued, pointing with my pencil, "is through the Florida Channel, clean through the Bahamas, where the navigation is very ugly."
"I see."
"I wouldn't trust myself there without a pilot on any consideration, and, of course," said I, looking at him, "we don't want a pilot."
"I should rayther think we don't," he answered, scowling at the chart.
"So," I went on, "to keep clear of ships and boats, which are sure to board us if we get among these islands, I should steer round the Caribees, do you see?—well away from them, and up through the Caribbean Sea, into the Gulf. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, yes—I see."