Authors: Charles Williams
“But sailing this boat is my business, and there’s a lot of work attached to it. You can help us, if you will, or you can make it tougher by keeping us busy heading you off from the rail because you want to go on torturing yourself like some mixed-up adolescent. Am I making any sense to you at all?”
She nodded, and for a moment there was a trace of life about her eyes, a touch of the old coolness and intelligence. “Yes, you’re doing quite well.” She turned to Rae. “Mrs. Ingram, I like your husband.”
I’m fond of him at times myself,” Rae said.
Mrs. Warriner tossed her cigarette over the side and stood up. “What do we do first? Can I help get breakfast, or shall I be dishwasher?”
Ingram sighed gently. “The first project is that compass. As soon as I can get it installed in the binnacle some way, we’ll swing ship and compensate it while we’ve got the sun low on the horizon. We’ll need the azimuth tables, and a watch, and something to use for a new deviation card—” He broke off and stood up himself, looking out to starboard.
“What is it?” Rae asked.
“Wind.”
She stood up, and they all turned to look. Off in the northeast the surface of the sea was darkening with the riffles of an advancing breeze. It might die out in ten minutes, or it might never even reach them at all, but it was wind. And today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, they’d pick up the Trades.