You had no business with that map."
CHAPTER XXIII
On a fine afternoon towards the end of the following month Captain
Brisket and Mr. Duckett sat outside the Swan and Bottle Inn, Holemouth, a
small port forty miles distant from Biddlecombe. The day was fine, with
just a touch of crispness in the air to indicate the waning of the year,
and, despite a position regarded by the gloomy Mr. Duckett as teeming
with perils, the captain turned a bright and confident eye on the _Fair
Emily_, anchored in the harbour.
"We ought to have gone straight to Biddlecombe," said Mr. Duckett,
following his glance; "it would have looked better. Not that anything'll
make much difference."
"And everybody in a flutter of excitement telegraphing off to the
owners," commented the captain. "No, we'll tell our story first; quiet
and comfortable-like. Say it over again."
"I've said it three times," objected Mr. Duckett; "and each time it
sounds more unreal than ever."
"It'll be all right," said Brisket, puffing at his cigar. "Besides,
we've got no choice. It's that or ruin, and there's nobody within
thousands of miles to contradict us. We bring both the ship and the map
back to 'em.
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