XVII. CLEARING THE AIR
‘HAS he gone to get the police, do you think?’ said Davies, grimly.
‘I don’t think so,’ said I. ‘Let’s go aboard before that customs fellow buttonholes us.’
A diminished row of stolid Frisians still ruminated over the Dulcibella. Friend Grimm was visible smoking on his forecastle. We went on board in silence.
‘First of all, where exactly is Memmert?’ I said.
Davies pulled down the chart, said ‘There,’ and flung himself at full length on a sofa.
The reader can see Memmert for himself. South of Juist, [See Map B] abutting on the Ems delta, lies an extensive sandbank called Nordland, whose extreme western rim remains uncovered at the highest tides; the effect being to leave a C-shaped island, a mere paring of sand like a boomerang, nearly two miles long, but only
