“E—h—h?” muttered Harper, for had not his thoughts been taking the same road, though not for worlds would he have owned it.
“I’m thinkin’ Susy will. Ye see I ‘m thinkin’ Susy was a bit gone—”
“You boy, trim that lamp,” said Harper angrily. “Look here, my lad, you just keep your tongue lashed amidships, and don’t go gassing about things that don’t concern you in the least, or you and I ‘ll part brass rags.”
The boy scurried below and returned with the lamp retrimmed. He slipped the light into the binnacle and looked doubtfully at the second mate. It was dull and he was inclined to talk, but after his late rebuff hardly dared. Harper began to pace up and down again, and the boy stowed himself under the lee of the house, volunteering the information as he passed the mate.
“Bo’sun says the wind ‘s goin’ to shift ahead.”
“You be hanged, and the bo’sun too!”
But before an hour had gone by he was obliged to acknowledge that the bo’sun’s weather prophecies were very correct, for the wind shifted point after point till it was right ahead and blowing half a gale. Harper looked aloft and noted the clouds scurrying across the sky. Heavier and heavier they were growing to wind’ard.
“By Jove!” he muttered to himself, “we ‘re in for a nasty night.”
Suddenly the lookout man reported, “Light right ahead, sir.”
Harper stepped forward to the skylight and peered down into the cabin, dimly lighted by an oil lamp. It was a bare enough little place at best, but it looked comfort itself as contrasted with the wet decks above. The skipper was lying on a settee sound asleep, one hairy arm thrown out, and on the table meditatively surveying him was Dinah, the ship’s cat.