The captain did not ascend the steps that led from the main-deck, but came upon the wheel from the after side, by way of the boat-deck, which had been much shattered by the shell fire of the "Dresden." Crouch--as is well known--had the eye of a lynx; and he saw at once that Stork was holding the ship on a course at least twenty-five degrees south of that marked upon the captain's chart.
"Hullo there!" he shouted, so suddenly that Stork started and let out an exclamation of surprise.
The man was obviously alarmed, and for a moment lost his self-possession, but recovered himself in an instant, and put the ship about upon her proper course.
"Look here," said Crouch, "I'll have no monkey tricks on board this packet. What d'ye mean? Answer me that! What d'ye mean?"
Stork made some feeble excuse, to which Crouch listened in stony silence. When Mr. Dawes returned to the bridge, he found his captain in none of the best of tempers. Neither was Crouch much inclined to be sympathetic in regard to the chief officer's hacking cough.
"You're ill, man," said he; "of course, you're ill. I know that as well as you; and as I told you before, you were in no fit state to come on duty. Still, if you undertake a job of work, I expect you to do it; and it is not for me to tell you a ship's officer's duty. As long as you hold the bridge, you remain there. Understand this, Mr. Dawes: there's a mighty difference between a ship crossing the Atlantic in time of war, with such a cargo as we shipped in New York harbour, and an oil-tank steamer in the south Pacific, when the captain and the mate can play halfpenny nap all day and sleep like infants half the night. If you're not fit for duty, go below, sir, and leave the bridge to me. It won't be the first time in my life I've done eight hours on end."
Mr. Dawes took the hint, which, indeed, he was hardly in a condition to reject. He went below, still coughing and more than a little ashamed.
As for Crouch, he remained on duty until eight bells had sounded, which--as the conclusion of the middle watch--is four o'clock in the morning. Throughout that time, he kept the eye of a hawk upon the man at the wheel, who, in his turn, never once looked up from the compass.
All this while, Crouch's brain was active. He may have been inclined to be pig-headed, but he was by no means a fool. For the first time, he found himself wondering whether there was any truth in what Jimmy had told him. He was perfectly convinced that Stork had changed the course of the ship on purpose. The man was not only quite thorough in his work as a rule, but understood his duty, and was hardly likely to have made so serious a mistake through negligence alone.
When the last watch came to deck, the captain's eyes followed Stork as he made his way to the forecastle; and then he, too, went below to his cabin, to snatch a few hours' sleep. He was now quite ready to admit the possibility that he had made a serious mistake, and made up his mind to keep a sharp eye upon Stork throughout the remainder of the voyage.