DURING the rest of the afternoon, during the evening, on into the night, Dick's hearty snoring floated up the companionway. At supper-time McGlory called Ole Larsen to the wheel, and went below. The Swede looked after him and observed that he took the steps slowly and cautiously, and was more quiet than usual in the cabin. From the mate his attention turned to the binnacle. His instructions were to hold the course, nor'east, pointing into the wind with the sheets hauled close. Ordinarily he would not have taken the trouble to question any orders that might have been given him, but the dislike and distrust all the crew felt for their new mate was stirring in his mind. He took occasion, when Harper came aft about some work, to beckon him and point to the compass.
“Aye tank we don' go at Mackinaw, no,” he said in a half whisper.
“Is that the course he gave you?”
“Ya-as, dat's her.”
“I was thinkin' myself it was funny. Near's I can figure, we're pointin' for Manitoulin Island. Now what in thunder—Look here, Ole—first chance I get I'm goin' to wake the Cap'n.”
“Aye tank we do dat, ya-as.”
They had dropped their voices, but Mc-Glory had heard them. He now came tiptoeing up the companion steps, wearing an ugly scowl. “Go up forward,” he commanded, addressing Harper.