For instance, had his plan succeeded he could have sailed to Anegada or Tortola within two or three hours from the time of the crime being committed, and, arriving at either place in the night, could have very easily induced the belief that he had anchored much earlier than he had actually done. In those spots very little, if any, notice is taken after dark of what boats are about--especially such boats as Alderly's, which are common all over the islands--and his _alibi_ would consequently have held good when Reginald was reported missing. And even the report of his being missing would not have spread abroad for probably some time after the event. None but tourists came to Coffin Island, and Barbara would have been unable to get away from it; while, since the _Pompeia_ would have disappeared for ever from human eyes, no one could have absolutely said that her temporary owner was dead. He might just as well have gone off with her to some other island as she have sunk to the bottom of the river, and Alderly could, therefore, have returned without his sister being able to advance one proof that Reginald Crafer had been made away with. "Though," said Reginald to himself, as he mused over the matter while he inspected Alderly's own boat, "if I had been drowned after she heard the pistol shots, she would certainly have thought I had died trying to defend myself. And, had her scoundrelly brother managed to survive me, Barbara would, if I mistake not, have taxed him very plainly with my death." He found the cutter anchored in about three fathoms of water, and had to get out to her in such a crazy, water-logged punt--in which Alderly must himself have come ashore--that he feared every moment the thing would sink under his weight, and expose him to the chance of a similar fate to that which had overtaken its owner. However, it was sounder than it looked, and, on inspecting the larger craft, he came to the conclusion that she would be navigable across to Tortola if she escaped bad weather--of which there were no signs now. The dead man had managed to patch her up in a manner very creditable to his knowledge of seacraft, and to set right the injuries she had received when cast ashore; so that, as far as the journey over to the Commissioner was concerned, he might start at once. "Though," he pondered, as he inspected the cutter and found nothing inside her beyond her ordinary gear but a bottle of rum, some meat and coarse bread, and a pipe--"though there is no reason why I should hurry myself. We had better begin to dig up the treasure now, I think, and, meanwhile, this dog's hole of a boat will serve for my habitation as well as the poor _Pompeia_, though it's not quite so sweet and wholesome." Whereon he hauled up her anchor, got her round to the river, and moored her as near as possible over the spot where the sunken yacht lay.