When he described how in the night—that very night, he realized with a jumping pulse—he was to go over the side of the Mirabelle and find out the channel, the Captain looked at him piercingly.
"How now, lad," he said in his deep voice, "how are you to find the channel in the dark?"
This was a question Chris was unprepared for, but he took a long breath which gave him a moment of extra time, and then replied.
"I—I see uncommonly well by night, Captain sir," he said, "and I'm a very strong swimmer."
His face froze with nervousness that this might not do as an answer, and he stood stiff and still before Captain Blizzard. The Captain sat forward in his chair looking at him for a long moment, considering. Then he said: "Well, I do not care for it, I cannot say I do. This ship is more to me than wife or mother or family. She's all I have, young man, and you can understand that to trust her to so young a lad, clever though you may be, to go safely past jagged coral reefs into a cove I never even guessed at, well"—he threw out a hand and then rubbed his chin with it—"You can understand I do not fancy it. However," and he leaned back in his chair again, "I take orders from Mr. Wicker, the owner of the Mirabelle, and since he says so, this is how it must be."
He paused, fingering his lower lip and looking sideways in a reflective fashion at Chris standing before him.
"He told me you would have information from him for me, from time to time. We shall say no more, but I trust you understand the responsibility you have? This ship, its cargo, and its men will be in your hands."
Chris felt cold for a moment, chilled as he had never been before, but he spoke up firmly. "Yes sir. I think I can do it safely, or I should not try, sir."
Captain Blizzard's round pink face creased in his winning smile. "Aye, aye. No doubt. Just bear it in mind at the time, eh lad?"