“They’re easy enough,” he said, and then he added “sir.” A wise officer, too, did not make too much display of his superior ability when speaking to his senior. He phrased his next speech carefully.
“If you were to come below with me, sir, you could check through my calculations.”
Bush listened in patience to Hornblower’s explanation. They made the problem perfectly clear for the moment—it was by a hurried lastminute reading up that Bush had been able to pass his examination for lieutenant, although it was seamanship and not navigation that got him through—but Bush knew by bitter experience that tomorrow it would be hazy again.
“Now we can plot the position,” said Hornblower, bending over the chart.
Bush watched as Hornblower’s capable fingers worked the parallel rulers across the chart; Hornblower had long bony hands with something of beauty about them, and it was actually fascinating to watch them doing work at which they were so supremely competent. The powerful fingers picked up the pencil and ruled a line.
“There’s the point of interception,” said Hornblower. “Now we can check against the dead reckoning.”
Even Bush could follow the simple steps necessary to plot the ship’s course by dead reckoning since noon yesterday. The pencil in the steady fingers made a tiny x on the chart.
“We’re still being set to the s’uth’ard, you see,” said Hornblower. “We’re not far enough east yet for the Gulf Stream to set us to the nor’ard.”
“Didn’t you say you’d never navigated these waters before?” asked Bush.
“Yes.”