"Hope they won't poke round in the fog all night looking for the Merle," Jack said gayly. "I never did like that steward, though."
A moment or two later, as the yacht was nearing the entrance of the Thoroughfare, Jack called for Dave. The man came aft.
"See here, Dave," Castleport asked, suddenly grown grave; "we've got more weather than we counted on. Can you pilot this yacht round Vinal Haven in this fog?"
"Reck'n I kin, sir," Dave replied with pleasing assurance. "Man and boy I've worked round these shores twelve years."
"Very well, then,—come down here and take her. Her gear's balanced: put the wheel over same way you want to swing her head. She's quick as a flash. If you want the chart"—
But Dave shook his head with a grin.
"Well, anyhow," said Jack, turning to leave him, "there's your compass."
"That don't bother me none," replied the intrepid Dave, with a glance at once scornful and defiant at the smart binnacle. "I go mos' gin'rally by the smell," he added by way of explanation.
"All right," laughed Jack. "Handle her carefully."