fellow buttonholes us.'

A diminished row of stolid Frisians still ruminated over the
Dulcibella. Friend Grimm was visible smoking on his forecastle. We
went on board in silence.

'First of all, where exactly is Memmert?' I said.

Davies pulled down the chart, said 'There,' and flung himself at full
length on a sofa.

The reader can see Memmert for himself. South of Juist, _[see Map B]_
abutting on the Ems delta, lies an extensive sandbank called
Nordland, whose extreme western rim remains uncovered at the highest
tides; the effect being to leave a C-shaped island, a mere paring of
sand like a boomerang, nearly two miles long. but only 150 yards or
so broad, of curiously symmetrical outline, except at one spot, where
it bulges to the width of a quarter of a mile. On the English chart
its nakedness was absolute, save for a beacon at the south; but the
German chart marked a building at the point where the bulge occurs.
This was evidently the depot. 'Fancy living there!' I thought, for
the very name struck cold. No wonder Grimm was grim; and no wonder he
was used to seek change of air. But the advantages of the site were
obvious. It was remarkably isolated, even in a region where isolation
is the rule; yet it was conveniently near the wreck, which, as we had
heard, lay two miles out on the Juister Reef. Lastly, it was clearly
accessible at any state of the tide, for the six-fathom channel of
the Ems estuary runs hard up to it on the south, and thence sends off
an eastward branch which closely borders the southern horn, thus
offering an anchorage at once handy, deep, and sheltered from seaward