looked inside. “It’s not my coat,” he observed. “I have my initials sewed in mine. But you’d be welcome to it if it were mine.”
Henry drew a deep sigh of relief. “So it’s not yours, eh? Then whose is it?”
“That's Black’s, I’m sure.”
“I think I'll get a breath of fresh air,” said Henry.
“That won't be difficult. It’s blowing a streak, but nothing like it did yesterday.”
Henry left the radio shack and made his way to the bridge. ‘ Captain Hardwick,” he said, “when you find it convenient, I’d like to talk to you privately.”
The captain looked at Henry sharply. “Come to my cabin at noon,” he said.
All the morning long the commander remained at his post on the bridge. The storm was easing up, but the high seas made the towing of the Rayolite difficult. Too much strain on the towing hawser would cause it to part. With too little tension, the Rayolite was harder to handle. The captain, with his long experience, knew that he dare not relax his vigilance for a moment, but when mess gear was piped, he turned the control of the cutter over to Lieutenant Hill with a few words of caution, and made his way to his cabin.
Impatiently Henry had been waiting for this move, and hardly had Captain Hardwick reached