"She'll be all right in time," repeated the captain; "and after all, you
know," he added, with gentle severity, "you deserve to suffer a little.
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.
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