"
"Shouldn't wonder if you're right," said Ford good-humoredly. "At all
events, I sha'n't interfere. But, Dab, what do you mean to do about it?"
"Swing a lantern at the mast-head, and sail right along. You and Dick
get a nap, by and by, if you can. I won't try to sleep till daylight."
"Sleep? Catch me sleeping!"
"You must; and so must Dick, when the time comes. It won't do for us to
all get worn out together. If we did, who'd handle the boat?"
Ford's respect for Dabney Kinzer was growing hourly. Here was this
overgrown gawk of a green country boy, just out of his roundabouts, who
had never spent more than a day at a time in the great city, and never
lived in any kind of a boarding-house; in fact, here was a fellow who
had had no advantages whatever,--coming out as a sort of hero.
Ford looked at him hard, as he stood there with the tiller in his hand,
but he could not quite understand it, Dab was so quiet and
matter-of-course about it all; and, as for that youngster himself, he
had no idea that he was behaving any better than any other boy could,
should, and would have behaved in those very peculiar circumstances.
However that might be, the gay and buoyant little "Swallow," with her
signal lantern swinging at her mast-head, was soon dancing away through
the deepening darkness and the fog; and her steady-nerved young
commander was congratulating himself that there seemed to be a good deal
less of wind and sea, even if there was more of mist.
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