The breeze appeared to have been waiting for an invitation, for one or two “cat’s-paws” ruffled the surface of the sea as he spoke.
“Mind your helm, boy,” said Mr Jones suddenly; “let her away a point; so, steady. Keep her as she goes; and, harkee” (he stooped down and whispered), “when I open the skylight do you call down, ‘breeze freshenin’, sir, and has shifted a point to the west’ard.’”
“By the way, Mr Hall,” said Jones, turning abruptly to his passenger, “you take so much interest in navigation that I should like to show you a new chart I’ve got of the channels on this part of the coast. Will you step below?”
“With pleasure,” replied Stanley, rising and following Jones, who immediately spread out on the cabin table one of his most intricate charts,—which, as he had expected, the young student began to examine with much interest,—at the same time plying the other with numerous questions.
“Stay,” said Jones, “I’ll open the skylight—don’t you find the cabin close?”
No sooner was the skylight opened than the small voice of Billy Towler was heard shouting—
“Breeze freshenin’, sir, and has shifted a pint to the west’ard.”
“All right,” replied Jones;—“excuse me, sir, I’ll take a look at the sheets and braces and see that all’s fast—be back in a few minutes.”
He went on deck, leaving Stanley busy with the chart.
“You’re a smart boy, Billy. Now do as I tell ’ee, and keep your weather eye open. D’ye see that bit o’ floating wreck a-head? Well, keep straight for that and run right against it. I’ll trust to ’ee, boy, that ye don’t miss it.”