"In a couple of hours."
"Then, if you get the chance, steer close to some other boat, will you? I mean some small craft that belongs along this shore."
"And if I do, what then?"
"I'll jump overboard and trust to luck to have the other boat pick me up," explained Nelson.
The two talked the plan over, and at last the sailor agreed for the two dollars to do as our hero desired—providing the opportunity arose. He insisted upon Nelson keeping the remaining fifty cents.
"I won't clean you out, lad," he said. "And I sincerely trust all goes well with you." And they shook hands.
The sailor took his next trick at the wheel at six o'clock, and half an hour later a sloop hove in sight, far to the southwestward. He nodded to Nelson, but said nothing. Most of the sailors were below, and Captain Grabon had also disappeared.
"Go on to supper," said the mate of the vessel to our hero, and turned away to inspect something forward.
"What shall I do?" whispered Nelson to the man at the wheel.
"Get your grub, lad," replied the sailor. "When we're close to that craft I'll begin to whistle 'Annie Laurie.'"