Eric never forgot the first day when he was allowed to con a ship. It was right at the beginning of his third cruise. He had put a gun crew through its drill, under the eye of the officer, and felt that he had acquitted himself creditably.
"Mr. Swift," said the first lieutenant to him, "put the ship's position on the chart."
Eric saluted and withdrew. A few minutes later, returning to the executive officer, he answered:
"Forty-one degrees ten minutes north; seventy-one degrees twenty-two minutes west, sir."
"Very good: Lay off a course from this point to a point ten miles north by west from Cape Race light."
In less than ten minutes Eric was back with a diagram of the course, which the officer inspected thoroughly.
"You may steer the course," he said.
Eric's nerves were in good control, but he had a jumpy feeling when he realized that he was actually in charge. Once, and only once, he got a little panicky, and, turning to the officer on the bridge, said:
"Should I keep her out a bit, sir?"
"You are steering the course," was the officer's reply. It was all up to the boy.