"East, five-eighths south, sir!"
"What's the next we make, captain?" asked the general manager from the
gloom at the rear of the pilot-house.
"Sow and Pigs Lightship, entrance of Vineyard Sound, sir."
"Good work! I'm going to take a turn below. See you again! What can
I tell any uneasy gentleman who is afraid he'll miss a business
appointment in the morning?"
"Tell him we'll be on time to the dot," declared the captain, quietly.
Mr. Fogg closed the pilot-house door behind himself and chuckled when he
eased his way down the slippery ladder.
Mr. Fogg sauntered through the brilliantly lighted saloon, hands in his
pockets, giving forth an impression of a man entirely at ease. Nobody
appeared to recognize the new general manager of the Vose line, and he
attracted no special attention. But if any one had been sufficiently
interested in Mr. Fogg to note him closely it would have been observed
that his mouth worked nervously when he stood at the head of the grand
stairway and stared about him. His jowls sagged. When he pulled out his
handkerchief his hand trembled.
He descended the stairs to the main-deck and peered about in the
smoking-quarters, running his eyes over the faces of the men gathered
there. All at once he lifted his chin with a little jerk and climbed the
stairs again. A big man tossed away a cigar and followed at a respectful
distance. He pursued Mr. Fogg through the saloon and down a corridor and
went into a stateroom on the general manager's heels.
"By gad, Burkett, I'm getting cold chills!" exploded Mr. Fogg, as soon
as the door was closed.
"Don't understand just why."
"Those people out there--I've just been looking 'em over. It's monkeying
with too big a proposition, Burkett. You can't reckon ahead on a thing
like this."
"Sure you can. I've doped it right."
"Oh, I know you understand what you're talking about, but--"
"Well, I ought to know. I've been pilot for the re-survey party on the
shoals for the last two months. I know every inch of the bottom."
"But the panic. There's bound to be one. The rest of 'em won't
understand, Burkett. It's going to be awful on board here. I'll be here
myself. I can't stand it."
"Look here, governor; there won't be any panic. She'll slide into the
sand like a baby nestling down into a crib. There isn't a pebble in
that sand for miles. Half of this bunch of passengers will be abed and
asleep. They won't wake up. The rest will never know anything special
except that the engines have stopped. And that ain't anything unusual
in a fog. It's a quiet night--not a ripple. Nothing to hurt us. The
wireless will bring the revenue cutter out from Wood's Hole, and she'll
stand by till morning and take 'em off."