But as the days passed and nothing occurred to disturb us, I felt
more and more strongly that, as regards our quest, we were on the
wrong tack. We found nothing suspicious, nothing that suggested a
really adequate motive for Dollmann's treachery. 1 became impatient,
and was for pushing on more quickly westward. Davies still clung to
his theory, but the same feeling influenced him.

'It's something to do with these channels in the sand,' he persisted,
'but I'm afraid, as you say, we haven't got at the heart of the
mystery. Nobody seems to care a rap what we do. We haven't done the
estuaries as well as I should like, but we'd better push on to the
islands. It's exactly the same sort of work, and just as important, I
believe. We're bound to get a clue soon.'

There was also the question of time, for me at least. I was due to be
back in London, unless I obtained an extension, on the 28th, and our
present rate of progress was slow. But I cannot conscientiously say
that I made a serious point of this. If there was any value in our
enterprise at all, official duty pales beside it. The machinery of
State would not suffer from my absence; excuses would have to be
made, and the results braved.

All the time our sturdy little craft grew shabbier and more
weather-worn, the varnish thinner, the decks greyer, the sails
dingier, and the cabin roof more murky where stove-fumes stained it.
But the only beauty she ever possessed, that of perfect fitness for
her functions, remained. With nothing to compare her to she became a
home to me. My joints adapted themselves to her crabbed limits, my
tastes and habits to her plain domestic economy.