James Tichel grinned faintly. "I have. But you'll not mind me, so no
matter."
"Out with it, any fashion," Noll insisted.
"Silva, then," said Tichel. "Silva!" He looked from one of them to
another. Noll's face was set in opposition; Dan'l's was neutral; Willis
Cox was obviously amazed. "Silva," said old Tichel, for the third time.
"He's a Portugee.... All right. But he's a good man; he knows the boat;
he's worked with Mr. Ham. And he can take the boat and make a harpooner
out of one or the other of two men in her...." He stopped, unused to
such an outbreak. "That's my say, leastwise," he finished.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Noll looked toward Dan'l again. "Now,
Mr. Tobey," he said.
Dan'l leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I've nothing
against Silva," he said quietly. "He's a good man. The best man in the
crew, I'm thinking.... But....
"The man I have in mind is Roy Kilcup. No less."
Noll's eyes widened; and old Tichel snapped: "He's never been in a
boat."
"I know the boy," Dan'l insisted. "I'll undertake to teach him all he
needs know in a week. He knows boats; he has guts and heart.... All he
needs to know is whales...."
"Aye," said Willis Cox scornfully. "Aye, that's all. But who does know
them?"