“Good for you, Charlie,” Nat said, “you have that French accent, all right. You won’t miss them if they come prowling around, will you?”
Charlie smiled, and bent his head to wipe his wrist over one cheek. In the moonlight, Nat could see the youngster’s tearstained face. Poor tad, he was homesick.
“Charlie, I wonder if you could do something for me?”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“I’m working on a problem in navigation. I’d like to explain it to you. If I can make you understand, I’ll know I’ve got it.”
“Aye, aye, sir! Anything to help!”
They walked the deck while Nat explained. Charlie was quick. He got the explanation much faster than grown men generally did.
“Thank you, Charlie. That’s helped.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bowditch, sir. You don’t know, but you’ve helped me, too!”