CHAPTER 11The “Dead Ship”
STEVE kept that fragment of conversation to himself. After all, it was none of his business to whom Dr. Sutton talked, and he was too busy to worry about it often, for now that the tanks of young quahogs had arrived Dr. Cobb had turned their care over to him. What he had learned to do, he knew, was simple enough, but he had a man-sized job on his hands revamping his high-school laboratory techniques to suit his new instructor’s exacting requirements. Though he was grateful for every hour he had spent over a microscope or a test tube, he realized that he was learning more in a week of this kind of individual supervision than he could have learned in a month of ordinary classroom work. When he was helping Dr. Cobb handle a Petri dish with a culture-growing dab of a
