“There’s a pot of coffee on the galley,” he said to Mata, the half-breed Fijian quartermaster. “I’ll mind the wheel while you get a cup.” He had no fear that the man would refuse. Mata turned over the wheel to Stump with alacrity, and with a grunt of thanks disappeared forward. Now was his chance. He was not quite sure that the plan would work. He did not understand the science of magnetic attraction. He was only following blindly what he had seen the American naval officer do some years before. His frame trembling with nervous eagerness, he eased the helm spoke by spoke. The “Talofa” pitched and rolled more heavily as her bow turned farther from the wind. Then Stump was fearful lest the wind might be shifting and might catch the sails aback and jibe the heavy booms, thus carrying away the sheets. At south by east he steadied. A bright star almost directly ahead was just visible along the line of the two masts. Disregarding the compass he steered for the star, taking a last glance at the compass. It still read south by east. To reach out and secure the bar of steel was accomplished in a second. He put it alongside the binnacle. The compass swung slowly away and came to rest within a point of the old course. He raised the bar and brought it closer against the wooden binnacle. The course was within a few degrees of the one the captain had set. Releasing the helm for an instant he tied the bar securely to the binnacle. The sails shivered and the mainsail gave one loud flap that brought Mata in sudden haste to his side. “The breeze’s been hauling astern,” Stump said, “and those booms are uneasy.” Mata took the wheel. Glancing quickly into the compass bowl, he saw the course was correct. “I’ll ease off the sheets; it’ll make her lie easy,” Stump explained, as he hurried away to carry out his intention. He was filled with joyous apprehension--joyful at the success of his plan, but apprehensive that it would be discovered. He eased off the main fore and jib sheets until the sails were spanking full, giving more speed, then he walked, with apparent unconcern, back to the wheel. “Getting in near the land, I reckon,” he said. “Wind’s apt to blow different in there.” Mata seemed puzzled, but his untrained mind could not conceive that everything was else but natural. A sudden change of wind meant to him the approach of a storm, but the sky showed no evidence, nor did the barometer which he had read not an hour ago. As near as Stump could figure the schooner was now approaching Ukula harbor at a speed of nearly six knots. An hour passed. Then Stump grew restless. Taking off his shoes he tiptoed down the companion ladder to the cabin. All there was in darkness. He listened. He could hear the captain’s regular breathing. He was asleep. Turning to steal back his foot encountered an obstruction, and he fell heavily on the deck. “Is that you, Stump?” Captain Scott asked, suddenly awaking. “Is it ten already?”