the chart, and then, vastly relieved, he turned the cutter over to Lieutenant Hill and went to his cabin. The Rayolite was towing securely, wind and sea were growing calmer with every hour, and the cutter’s position was known exactly. He had done a hard job and done it well. No wonder the commander was gratified.
If only he could handle the other problem as satisfactorily. But how? That was the question he asked himself over and over. Rollin brought the commander food. When he had eaten, Captain Hardwick got out the three finishing nails. He sat looking at them for a while, his brow wrinkled in deep thought. “If Sparks is fit to be seen,” he said to himself, “I ought to show him these. He might be able to suggest some course of action that would help.”
Captain Hardwick arose and went forward to the sick bay. He met the surgeon at the door. “How’s Mr. Sharp?” asked the commander.
“He’s pretty sick, Captain, but I think he’ll pull through all right. He’s got a fine constitution and is tough as nails. But we’ll have to take care of him.”
The captain seemed to hesitate. “I—I suppose it wouldn’t do to talk to him?” he asked.
“Well, that would depend. It would hardly do any harm to talk to him a moment and wish him a quick recovery. It wouldn’t be wise to