“The day! Heaven forefend! I’m holding her to the north.”
“You’re holding due east. Aha! Look yonder, where the cloud is lifting. Land ho!”
“Where away?” cried a mate, roused out of a forbidden doze by this talk, and blundering up to the roof of the after-castle.
“Port bow, sir.”
“Port bow! The fiend take us! You block! You jolterhead! Where are you fetching us?”
“I’m holding her due to the north, sir, as you bade me,” faltered the steersman. “Look for yourself, if it please you, for ’tis light enough to read the card without the binnacle lamp. We’re sailing east by the sky and north by the needle. The ship’s bedevilled!”
“Hold your peace, or you’ll have the crew in a fright. Head her around eight points to port, and keep her west by the card.”
“Lights in, sir? The sun is up,” called the lookout.
“Yes.” And the mate added in a lower tone, “’Tis the first time ever the sun came up in the north.”
“What’s all this gabble?” grumbled the captain, thrusting his red and whiskered face out of the cabin. “Can’t a man have his rest when you keep the watch, Master Roaker?”