The first mate was in charge of the deck and, so far, he had given no orders to shorten sail. Ever and anon a sail would crack in the wind and the bark would give a plunge in the sea. Dave walked forward to where Billy Dill stood by the rail, watching the sky anxiously.
"This looks stormy, doesn't it?" questioned the youth.
"Stormy? Great dogfish! I should allow as how it did, lad. We're in for a blow, an' a big one, too."
"Then isn't it about time to take in sail?"
"I should say it was."
"Then why doesn't the mate do so?"
At this question the old tar shrugged his shoulders.
"Reckon he wants to take the benefit o' all the breeze he can," he answered. "But it ain't the best thing to do—not to my way o' reasonin'. If he ain't keerful, we may lose a topmast, or more."
"I suppose you don't dare to say anything to him?"
"No. He's in charge, an' thet's all there is to it."