'Naturally,' said von Brüning, dryly; the joke had apparently ceased
to amuse him. 'But you haven't much time then, have you?' he added,
'unless you leave your skipper in the lurch. It's a long way to
England, and the season is late for yachts.'

I felt myself being hurried.

'Oh, you don't understand,' I explained; '_he's_ in no hurry. He's a
man of leisure; aren't you, Davies?'

'What?' said Davies.

I translated my cruel question.

'Yes,' said Davies, with simple pathos.

'If I have to leave him I shan't be missed--as an able seaman, at
least. He'll just potter on down the islands, running aground and
kedging-off. and arrive about Christmas.'

'Or take the first fair gale to Dover,' laughed the commander.

'Or that. So, you see, we're in no hurry: and we never make plans.
And as for a passage to England straight, I'm not such a coward as I
was at first, but I draw the line at that.'

'You're a curious pair of shipmates; what's your point of view, Herr
Davies?'

'I like this coast,' said Davies. 'And--we want to shoot some ducks.'