The day following we were within a hundred miles of our destination, and by midday of the day following that again were near enough to render it advisable to hold a council over our intended movements. Accordingly, a little before lunch time the Marquis, Wetherell, the skipper, and myself met under the after awning to consider our plan of war. The vessel herself was hove to, as we had no desire to put in an appearance during daylight.
"The first matter to be taken into consideration, I think, Mr. Wetherell," said the skipper, "is the point as to which side of the island we shall bring up on."
"You will be able to settle that," answered Wetherell, looking at me. "You are acquainted with the island and can best advise us."
"I will do so to the best of my ability," I said, sitting down on the deck and drawing an outline with a piece of chalk. "The island is shaped like this: There is no reef. Here is the best anchorage without doubt, but here is the point where we shall be most likely to approach without being observed. The trend of the land is all upwards from the shore, and, as far as I remember, the most likely spot for a hut—if they have Miss Wetherell there, as we suppose—will be on a little plateau looking south, and hard by the only fresh water on the island."
"And what sort of anchorage shall we get there, do you think?" asked the skipper, who very properly wished to run no risk with his owner's boat.
"Sand and coral. None too good, perhaps, but, as we shall have steam up, quite safe enough."
"And how do you propose that we shall approach the hut when we land? Is there any undergrowth, or must we climb the hill under the enemies' fire?"
