“Why?”
“The boss didn’t play up a whim when he cut down our speed. He’d done some close figuring before he did that.”
“How do you know?”
“I ought to know. I’m operator, ain’t I? I handle his messages, don’t I? Well, that’s how I know.”
“Then the order to slow down was not due to a whim, but to a message?”
“To the one he got this morning in reply to the one he sent last night. Yep.”
“There seems, then,” said I, “to be a conflict of interests on board; Captain Brack wishes to go fast and Mr. Chanler wishes to go slow.”
“Yes,” said Freddy Pierce, scratching his red head, “and if the captain’s reasons are anything like the boss’s I’ve got a feeling that you’ll have some —— funny things to write about before we get back home. What’s more, if one of ’em’s got to have his way about the speed you can put your money on the captain and cash.”
“Nonsense! Mr. Chanler is the owner.”
“Yes, and Captain Brack is—Brack.”