"What you call the safe side?" asked Felipe, whose English was still very much at fault, especially in its idioms, though he did very well in simple conversation.
"Don't burst the boiler," laughed Louis.
He promised not to do so. Morris, the pilot, was in the pilot-house, where he had been at work a considerable part of his time in putting everything there in order and according to his own fancy, for he felt that this was his domain. Captain Scott was on the promenade deck, and he had prepared himself for his present duties.
Captain Ringgold had an abundance of charts, and among them one of four sheets of the Mediterranean Sea. This one had thirty plans of harbors and ports upon it, and among them one of the Strait of Gibraltar. The latter was about a foot long and eight inches wide, which the commander had cut out of the sheet and given to Captain Scott, who, for this reason, felt entirely confident in regard to his navigation. The only thing he needed was a parallel ruler, so that he could lay off the course from the compass designs given on every chart.
"Make the course south south-west, Mr. Woolridge!" he called to the pilot.
Morris was a little startled to hear himself "mistered;" but the fasts had been cast off by the accomplished deck-hands, and he rang the gong to go ahead. He had learned the bells as they were used on board of the Guardian-Mother; and he felt quite at home at the wheel, and not a little exhilarated to find himself steering such a beautiful little steamer as his regular duty.
"Do you know where you are, Captain Scott?" asked Louis playfully.
"Just as well as though I had been here all my life," replied he.
"I suppose you know your way out of this bay."
"As well as I know my way into bed when I am tired."