For though it still continued restless enough to keep Braintree and Tubbs in a state of suspended enjoyment in the bows, it showed no signs of getting worse as it went on.
Bowler was jubilant.

With his hand on the rudder and his eye on the compass, he kept the boat's course like a line, and fancied himself heading due north from Sinnamary.

Gayford, with the sheet in his hand, and a careful watch on the sail, could easily delude himself into fancying the coast-line of the Long Stork was the veritable shore of New Swishford.
"Isn't it prime, old man," said he, "and won't it be primer still when the real time comes?
I never guessed it would be so easy.

Not a thing's gone wrong." "No; and think of the lark of landing and collaring the island, too.

I say, who does the Long Stork belong to ?" "Don't know--the Long Storks, I guess.