"Nicely, thank ye, Captain," answered Dirrik. "But this 'ere blamed azimuth's a hard nut to crack." Dirrik wiped the sweat from his brow with a blue-checked handkerchief, and blew his nose with startling violence. "You won't need a foghorn next time you get on board," said Wille slyly.
"I say, though, Captain," said Rudolf, "we must get old Dirrik through somehow. If he doesn't pass this time, he'll be all adrift."
"Oho!" said the Captain, smiling all over his kindly face. "And how's that?"
"Why, he's got to get married this spring, whether he wants to or no."
"But he doesn't need that certificate to get married."
"Ay, but I do, though, Captain," said Dirrik earnestly. "For look you, navigation's badly needed in these waters, and I'll sure come to grief without."
"Why, then, we must do what we can to get you through," said Wille. And, seating himself beside Dirrik, he began to explain the mysteries of sine, cosine and tangent.
Dirrik sat with all his mental nerves strained taut as the topmast shrouds in a storm. But the more he listened to Wille's explanations the more incomprehensible he seemed to find the noble art and science of navigation.
Presently Lt. Knap, the second master, came up, and relieved Captain Wille at his task. Knap was quite young in those days, an excitable fellow with a sharp nose that gave him an air of self-importance. But a splendid teacher, that he was. I can still hear his voice, after vain attempts to ram something into Dirrik's thick head: "But, damnation take it, man, I don't believe you understand a word!"
No, Dirrik didn't understand a word, or, at any rate, very little. One thing he did know, however, and that was, if a man can take his meridian and mark out his course on the chart, he can find his way anywhere on the high seas.