“Six, three,” corrected Ned looking at the chronometer himself. Then he stepped heavily to Roy’s charts. “Are we on time? Why’d you let me sleep?”
“We’re on time, goin’ without a slip, just passed St. Johns and—because you needed it.”
“St. Johns?” repeated Ned. “You’re droppin’!”
“Ready to get a bearin’ on Amherst, Nova Scotia, when we pass. Everything’s fine—exceptin’ the fog.”
“I went to sleep,” exclaimed Ned who was yet a little dazed.
“That’s right,” said Alan. “I’ll take my turn later.”
“I didn’t mean to,” persisted the other boy. “Didn’t you need me?”
“Movin’ like clockwork,” insisted Alan, trying to placate the disgruntled Ned. “The weather was fine up to Big Manan. I think it’ll clear before we reach Fogo Island.”
“Did you say we’d just passed St. Johns?” interrupted Ned excitedly, almost himself again. “We ought to have been there over an hour ago if it’s after six!”
This necessitated the explanation of the error in the Gulf of Maine sailing chart and then the explosion came. In time, when Ned had calmed down and had gone over the figures himself, he became philosophical.