“Who—who is the first mate?” she stammered uncertainly.
“Your Aunt Grace, to be sure,” said Uncle Hiram. “I’m the Captain of this ship and she’s first mate. She stands the forenoon watch.”
“Is that the watch you carry in your pocket?” Elizabeth Ann asked, beginning to feel that she didn’t understand anything Uncle Hiram said.
“No, the forenoon watch is from eight o’clock till noon,” said Uncle Hiram. “That’s the morning hours, you see. At eight bells, or 12 noon, I come up to the house for dinner.”
Elizabeth Ann blinked.
“How many bells is it now?” she asked, pointing to the clock which said half-past eleven.
“Why, it’s seven bells,” Uncle Hiram replied promptly.
Then and there Elizabeth Ann decided that she must be like Aunt Grace—it was so much easier to say “half past eleven” than to count up to seven bells. Of course it was easier for Uncle Hiram to tell time that way than by the regular time, for he had done it so long.
“Don’t bother your head about it,” he said now, noticing that Elizabeth Ann was bewildered. “Perhaps you’ll pick it up as you go along, and if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Your Aunt Grace was brought up on a farm and she can’t learn about the sea; I went to sea when I was a young lad and I can’t pick up land ways. But we each do our way and get along splendidly. There’s more than one way of doing a thing and I haven’t much use for any man who thinks his is the only possible one.”
Elizabeth Ann thought that was very nice. If she learned to tell time by the bells that would be fine—she could surprise Lansing and Ted. But if she didn’t learn, Uncle Hiram wouldn’t be annoyed—he thought that the old way of telling time—by the old way, Elizabeth Ann meant the way she had been taught—was good, too.