The ship lay quietly on the water, its silhouette framing the moonlight in angles. Bennett sat on the railing, feet dangling over the side. “Halt! Who goes there?” he asked, then snickered. “Shouldn’t you be in your bunk?” “Not tonight, Cap’n. Quartermaster said if I was so set on stayin’ awake, I could make myself useful. I’m standing guard.” The last was imbued with a furtive pride, careful not to show its head or be slapped down. Nate would have preferred the boy sleep. Whatever he learned in his lessons would have the greatest impact on his life, and he couldn’t focus if he was tired. Then again, maybe a chance at real responsibility would provide the boy with what empty reprimands could not—discipline. “A lookout,” Nate mused, “must be ready to sound the alarm at any sign of trouble.” “I will, Cap’n.”
