“Good-morning, doctor; we are having a touch of the Cape this morning,” cried the skipper.
“So it seems; is the Cape in sight?”
“No; but I guess you’ll see it again before we get clear.”
“Mr. Garnett said he thought we would make some northing to-day. He does not believe in so much easterly variation, but says it is the drift that makes it appear so. It seems to me an easy thing to decide.”
“Garnett be hanged!” snorted Green in disgust “He will get into trouble some day with his fool’s ideas. Hello! there goes the steward with the hash,” and the skipper dived below, where he was followed by his passenger.
Garnett appeared at the table, but Mrs. Davis kept her bunk, as the plunging ship made it difficult to eat with comfort. No one spoke during the meal, as the crashing noise from the straining bulkheads drowned all sounds save the roar of the elements on deck.
Garnett stopped in the alley-way to light his pipe and get a few whiffs before relieving Gantline. Then he made his way to the poop and stood close to the mizzen, trying to get shelter from the wind and spray, while Gantline went below.
Dr. Davis came on deck and found the second officer trying to smoke, so he joined him.
“It’s harder to be mate with a man like Green than anything I’ve tackled,” said he. “I’ve been to a few places and seen a few men in my day, but most of them would reason things out. There’s no reason in him.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Dr. Davis.