“Now, young gen’man,” said he, “you see that there mark? We calls that the lubber’s point. It’s on a line with the ship’s head, and when you know your course, you’ve got to keep the p’int of it dead on end with that there mark, if so be as she don’t break off, or if so be as there ain’t no sea on. But if her head swings, then you’ve got to hit what’s called the mean of the oscillations of the card. Can you tell how her head is now?”
“Sou’, sou’-west,” I answered.
“You look again,” said he.
“South by west, three-quarters west,” said I after a prolonged squint at the compass.
“Right!” said he; “now you keep her to that.”
She needed no steering, however. At long intervals a very small movement of the helm sufficed; but my enjoyment was very great. I was not yet fourteen, but had I been forty I could not have felt more fully a man. I cannot express how great was the sense of importance which possessed me when I considered that the big ship, with her costly freight and the many souls who were sleeping under my feet, was being directed by my young hands through the great enveloping shadow of the night. At first I could scarcely realize my power, and asked permission of the somewhat hoarse salt who leaned upon the grating behind me to move the wheel, that I might make sure that the ship would respond to the helm in my hands.
“Well,” he answered, “I dunno that half a p’int off ’ll sinnify for a minute. Try her if you like, my lad.”
So I put my small weight upon the spokes, and brought the wheel over, till the sailor in muffled accents (that the mate might not hear) cried “So!” Great was my delight on observing the card to swing.