more breakfast, for it will be a good many
hours before we have another meal."

No one stirred.

"Well," said the doctor impatiently, "did you hear what I said?"

This time a low murmur ran through the crew, and Joe Cross took a step
forward and touched his hat.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said; "the lads' respects, and they says they're
all tight, cargo well stowed."

"Then you don't want the extra half-hour?" said the doctor, looking at
his watch. "So there's nothing to do, then, my dear Count, and you,
Captain Chubb, but for us to shake hands and say good-bye."

"Where's your guide?" grunted the captain.

"Ah, where's our guide?" said the doctor, looking in the direction of
the Spanish three-master. "He said at the turn of the tide. I ought to
have asked him to come here to breakfast."

"Here he comes, uncle," cried Rodd, for at that moment the head of the
Spaniard's boat was rowed out from the other side of the anchored
vessel, which might have been quite deserted, for not a head was to be
seen.

"Hah!" cried the doctor. "I like that. It tells well for his being a
trustworthy guide. So now good-bye, Count. Your son's mine till we
come back."

The Count mastered his desire to embrace the doctor, and grasped his
hand in regular English fashion, and by the time the Spaniard's little
gig, rowed by two men, had come alongside, the last farewell had taken
place with the captain, who then looked over the rail and grunted out--

"Coming aboard, senor?"

"No, no; but just one word. I have been talking to my crew, and told
them they are to take their orders from you till I come back. They
won't give you any trouble. Let them smoke and sleep as much as they
like."

"All right," growled the skipper. "When shall we see you back?"

"When your senor likes," said the Spaniard, lighting a fresh cigarette
from the one which had threatened to burn his moustache. "I take the
boat as far up into the forest along the little rivers till he tells me
to turn back, and then we will begin to row or sail the other way."

A few minutes later the French crew of the brig, and the men of the
schooner who were to stay and help the carpenter and his mate, stood
ready to give a farewell cheer. The travellers were on the boat, the
rowers in their places, with their oars held upright ready to drop into
the rowlocks, the little sail rolled round the mast was lying ready for
use if a breeze sprang up, and Joe Cross stood right