" I breathed out. "The ship is on
the off-shore tack and the wind may fail us."

"As long as I know that you understand," he whispered. "But of course
you do. It's a great satisfaction to have got somebody to understand.
You seem to have been there on purpose." And in the same whisper, as if
we two whenever we talked had to say things to each other which were not
fit for the world to hear, he added, "It's very wonderful."

We remained side by side talking in our secret way--but sometimes
silent or just exchanging a whispered word or two at long intervals. And
as usual he stared through the port. A breath of wind came now and again
into our faces. The ship might have been moored in dock, so gently and
on an even keel she slipped through the water, that did not murmur even
at our passage, shadowy and silent like a phantom sea.

At midnight I went on deck, and to my mate's great surprise put the
ship round on the other tack. His terrible whiskers flitted round me
in silent criticism. I certainly should not have done it if it had
been only a question of getting out of that sleepy gulf as quickly as
possible. I believe he told the second mate, who relieved him, that it
was a great want of judgment. The other only yawned. That intolerable
cub shuffled about so sleepily and lolled against the rails in such a
slack, improper fashion that I came down on him sharply.

"Aren't you properly awake yet?"

"Yes, sir! I am awake."

"Well, then, be good enough to hold yourself as if you were. And keep
a lookout. If there's any current we'll be closing with some islands
before daylight."

The east side of the gulf is fringed with islands, some solitary, others
in groups. On the blue background of the high coast they seem to float
on silvery patches of calm water, arid and gray, or dark green and
rounded like clumps of evergreen bushes, with the larger ones, a mile
or two long, showing the outlines of ridges, ribs of gray rock under the
dark mantle of matted leafage. Unknown to trade, to travel, almost to
geography, the manner of life they harbor is an unsolved secret. There
must be villages--settlements of fishermen at least--on the largest
of them, and some communication with the world is probably kept up by
native craft. But all that forenoon, as we headed for them, fanned along
by the faintest of breezes, I saw no sign of man or canoe in the field
of the telescope I kept on pointing at the scattered group.

At noon I had no o