She ran off, and Joey scampered by her side, for he knew quite well where the kitchen lay. “Bromide is useful at times,” murmured Christobal, watching Elsie until she had disappeared. Then he turned to Courtenay. “I suppose you have seen nothing of the boats?” “No sign whatever. And I could hardly have missed them if they were here. They may have escaped, but I doubt it. The sea ran very high for a time, and the _Kansas_ scraped past so many reefs that it was almost impossible for each of the three boats to have done the same.” “Even if one or more of them reached land, there is small likelihood that they would turn up in this particular bay?” “That is true, especially if they used their sails. The Chileans who got away in the life-boats would know sufficient of the coast to endeavor to make a northerly course, while my parting instructions to Malcolm were to keep to the north all the time.” “I wish now that poor Isobel Baring and the others had not left us,” said Christobal sadly. Courtenay was about to say something, but checked himself. He was not blind to the aspect of affairs which Tollemache had summarized so pithily. It might yet be that those who remained had more to endure. Then Elsie summoned them to breakfast, which was served on deck, as the saloon had been temporarily converted into a hospital. Before sitting down, Courtenay paid a brief visit to Mr. Boyle. Christobal told him not to allow the wounded man to talk too much, complete rest for a few hours being essential. But Boyle’s pallid face lit up so brightly when the captain stood by his side that it was hard not to indulge him to some extent. “Huh,” he said, his gruff voice strong as ever. “Christobal was not humbugging me when he assured me you were all right. Where are we?” “In a small bay on the east of Hanover Island. I have not taken any observations yet, and there is no hurry, old chap. You’ll be out and about long before we move again.” “Huh. D’ye think so? I know the beggar who knifed me. I’ll take it out of him when I see him.” “You are better off than he, Boyle. Unless he is here with you, I guess he is rolling on the floor of the Pacific by this time.” Boyle tried to turn and survey his fellow-sufferers; there was the fire of battle in his eye. Courtenay restrained him with a laugh. “A nice thing I am doing,” he cried, “permitting you to talk, and getting you excited. I believe you would punch the scoundrel now if he were in the next berth. You must lie quiet, old man; doctor’s orders; he says you’re on the royal road if you keep on the easy list for a day or so.” Boyle smiled, and closed his eyes. “I heard the anchors go, and then I knew that all was well. You’re the luckiest skipper afloat. Huh, the bloomin’ _Kansas_ was lost not once but twenty times.” “Are you in pain, Boyle?” asked Courtenay, placing a gentle hand on his friend’s forehead.