transmitted to the man at the almost useless wheel. At his side Senor
Perkins beamed with unshaken serenity, and hopefully replied to the
captain's half surly, half anxious queries.

"By the chart we should be well east of Los Lobos island, d'ye see?"
he said impatiently. "You don't happen to remember the direction of the
current off shore when you were running up here?"

"It's five years ago," said the Senor modestly; "but I remember we kept
well to the west to weather Cape St. Eugenio. My impression is that
there was a strong northwesterly current setting north of Ballenos Bay."

"And we're in it now," said Captain Bunker shortly. "How near St. Roque
does it set?"

"Within a mile or two. I should keep away more to the west," said Senor
Perkins, "and clear"--

"I ain't asking you to run the ship," interrupted Captain Bunker
sharply. "How's her head now, Mr. Brooks?"

The seamen standing near cast a rapid glance at Senor Perkins, but not
a muscle of his bland face moved or betrayed a consciousness of the
insult. Whatever might have been the feeling towards him, at that
moment the sailors--after their fashion--admired their captain; strong,
masterful, and imperious. The danger that had cleared his eye, throat,
and brain, and left him once more the daring and skillful navigator they
knew, wiped out of their shallow minds the vicious habit that had sunk
him below their level.