For some days Burns appeared to be uneasy,
and I observed him continually shading his eyes with his hand and
staring at the horizon as if he were looking for land. Twice I
caught him with his red head against the chart in the cabin,
gazing at that pin, which was always approaching and yet never
reaching the African coast. At last one evening, as Captain
Fourneau and I were playing ecarte in the cabin, the mate entered
with an angry look upon his sunburned face.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Fourneau," said he.
"But do you know what course the man at the wheel is steering?"
"Due south," the captain answered, with his eyes fixed upon his
cards.
"And he should be steering due east."
"How do you make that out?"
The mate gave an angry growl.
"I may not have much education," said he, "but let me tell you
this, Captain Fourneau, I've sailed these waters since I was a
little nipper of ten, and I know the line when I'm on it, and I
know the doldrums, and I know how to find my way to the oil
rivers.
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