`That's right, Job,' said I. `You won't find out anything wonderful, but you will get some good shooting. And now look here, both of you. I won't have a word said to a living soul about this nonsense,' and I pointed to the potsherd. `If it got out, and anything happened to me, my next of kin would dispute my will on the ground of insanity, and I should become the laughing stock of Cambridge.'

That day three months we were on the ocean, bound for Zanzibar.