He watched with a pleasant smile the "Eliza" as she drifted slowly out on the rope, enjoying the prospect of seeing her presently tug at the anchor, and then give up the attempt to get free and resign herself to her fate.
It was a longer coil of rope than he had imagined.

The boat was twenty yards away at least, and still paying out.

By the way, where was the rope?
With a cry of horror Tubbs sprang to the anchor and began hauling in.

The rope came in gaily, but not the "Eliza." She danced merrily cut to sea in a straight line for the North Pole, with the six brown- paper parcels on board, leaving her poor custodian to console himself as best he could with a loose end of rope, which had never been fastened to its ring.
What was he to do?
After taking a few minutes to collect his ideas, by which time the boat was a hundred yards on its solitary voyage, it occurred to him he had better inform the others of what had happened.
So he started in rather a low state of mind in pursuit of them.

It was a long time before he came upon them, perched in a group on the highest point of the island, and singing "Rule Britannia" in a lusty chorus which sent the scared seagulls flying to right and left.
"Hullo, Tubby, old man, here we are! Got the grub safe ashore?
Not been bagging any of the peaches, eh?
You've been long enough." Tubbs replied by pointing mysteriously to a little speck out at sea.
"What's the row?
What is it ?" asked Gayford.
"You wouldn't guess what that little thing is," said Tubbs.
"What is it?
Can't you speak ?" "Well, if you must know, it's our boat.