“He’s in his sack.”
“I thought he was up here for a while.”
“He was.”
“I guess you’ll make Chief Warrant now.”
Evans flushed, “That’s your department, polishing the brass.”
“You do it so much better.” Martin chuckled. Evans bit his lip. He knew that Martin often tried to irritate him and he did not like it when he succeeded. He turned away from him. The man at the wheel had been listening and was grinning.
Evans looked at the compass without seeing the numbers. “Keep to your course.”
“But I am on course,” the man said righteously.
Evans grunted. Martin walked away from the window and back into his cabin. Evans cursed slightly. Then, relieved, he stood, looking out the port window, his arms and legs braced as the ship plunged from wave to wave, slanting the wheelhouse deck.
At five bells Smitty shouted that chow was ready.