“Yes.”

The officer seated himself near his table on which were outspread charts and maps.  About the table hung a framed picture of the captain’s wife and child, a miniature of which he carried in his breast pocket.

“In the first place,” began Captain Brown, “I want you to keep this which I tell you secret until I deem it wise to be published.  I can trust you for that?”

“Certainly.”

Always in the company of the passengers, Captain Brown’s bearing was one of assurance.  He smiled readily.  But now his face was serious, and Chester saw lines of care and anxiety in it.

“I am sorry that I ever suggested to you and your friends—­and my dear friends they are too,” continued the captain, “that you take this voyage with me, for if anything should happen, I should never forgive myself.  However, there is no occasion for serious alarm—­yet.”

“What is the matter, captain?”

“I have been deceived regarding the condition of this ship.  I was made to understand that she was perfectly sea-worthy—­this is my first trip with her—­but I now learn that the boilers are in a bad state and the pumps are hardly in a working condition.  There is—­already a small leak where it is nearly impossible to be reached.  We are holding our own very well, and we can jog along in this way for some time, so there is no immediate danger.”

Chester experienced a sinking at the heart.  From the many questions which thronged into his mind, he put this: 

“When might there be danger?”

“If the leak gets bad and the pumps can not handle it.  Then a rough sea is to be dreaded.”

“What can we do?”

“At present, nothing but keep cool.  You are the only one of the passengers that knows anything about this, and I am telling you because I can trust you to be wise and brave, if necessary.  If things do not improve, we shall soon be getting our boats in shape.  We shall do this as quietly as possible, but someone might see and ask questions.  We shall depend on you—­and I’ll promise to keep you posted on the ship’s true condition.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And now,” said the captain as his face resumed its cheerful expression, “I must make a trip below.  When you see me on the bridge again, come up and make that explanation which Mr. Strong said you were able to do.  I shall be mighty glad to listen to you.”

Chester protested, but the captain would not hear it.  “I’ll be up in the course of half an hour,” said the seaman.  “Promise me you’ll come?”

“Of course, if you really wish it?”

“I was never more earnest in my life.  My boy, let me tell you something’.  I have listened at times to your conversation on religious themes—­you and Lucy have talked when I could not help hearing—­and I want to hear more—­I believe you have a message for me.”

There was a smile on the captain’s face as he hurried away.  And Chester’s heart also arose and was comforted, as he lingered for a few moments on the deck and then joined Lucy and his father.