"This charming little island," said he, pointing over his
shoulder, toward the land, "is not an island, at all, it seems. It
is a cape, or promontory, or perhaps more properly a peninsula.
Its name, so the Squire tells us, is Briggs's Nose. Probably the
man who gave it that name perished long ago,--slain, no doubt, by
the residents. At any rate, it is so far from the nearest town on
the mainland that we believe it will be safe to land the Squire
there. He can take the steamer this afternoon and get home before
dusk. All who wish to kiss the Squire good-bye should therefore
get ready. The line forms on the left."

Gregory the Gauger was disposed to grumble at being set ashore.

"Fear not, Squire," said Sprague, "crowns for convoy shall be put
into your purse. Many a ship's crew would have marooned you on a
desert island, or set you adrift."

"With some ship's bread and a beaker of water," added Mr. Daddles.

"Quite so," said Sprague, "only we couldn't find a beaker on
board,--and wouldn't have known one if we HAD found it."

Pete and the silent Chief prepared to row Gregory ashore. Just
before they left Sprague gave the prisoner some money for
steamboat fare, and Mr. Daddles presented him with the remains of
the apple pie, begging him to keep some of it for breakfast next
day.

Twenty minutes later our friends were on board again, and we were
getting up the anchor. Jimmy Toppan, the Chief, and Sprague went