couple of days, though. Then we'll beat it for Australia."
The ketch had dragged her anchor for two or three hundred feet, and only the fact that she had been lying under the shelter of the island had prevented her from disappearing altogether. Keith put off to her and found she had sustained some damage, but not more than he could repair. He spent a busy afternoon and then returned to the island for supper, reporting her ready for the journey.
That evening they were sitting in the living-room, a rather subdued trio. Chester's head was bandaged, but he had refused point blank to remain in bed any longer. He was smoking and ruminating. Joan was engaged in the prosaic occupation of darning. Her thoughts were a medley. Keith was turning over the bundle of newspapers which had been brought to Tao Tao from the Petrel, and which he had not had an opportunity of dipping into. Now, with nothing better to do, he smoothed out the stiff folds and, as was natural, turned first of all to the news of ships and shipping.
Suddenly he emitted a low whistle and laid his pipe down carefully. A paragraph with a small headline stood out in letters of fire before him.
His lips had become strangely dry. He moistened them, and read the paragraph over a second time, permitting every word to sink in.
