“Gunnery?”
“Yes. Fellows in the Wardroom don’t know how much work he puts in. I know him better than most. I do know. They think he’s slack ’cause he only takes a watch now and then. But I give you my word”—he leaned forward and smacked Hartington’s knee—“I give you my word there’s not a man in this ship or any other damned ship who does more work than Ordith.”
“I believe it. And he has brains.”
“Brains!” Aggett exclaimed. “I should jus’ say he has. One o’ the smartest men alive. And no slop or sentiment. On and on like a well-lubricated engine. And an eye to the main chance—why, I’ll tell you.” He hitched up his chair closer to Hartington’s, and continued with slow emphasis: “Ordith’s a man worth watchin’. Head an’ shoulders above the Service truck. All the powers have an eye on him. Ordith and Co.? Why, you mark my words, Ordith’s goin’ to control more ’n that some day.... Good fellow, too. Think so?”
“I like him,” Hartington answered, “though I don’t know him well. None of us knows him well, so far as I can see. He keeps to himself.”
“He keeps to himself where the blamed fools are concerned. An’ he looks round slow, an’ takes his pick o’ the best.”
Hartington laughed. “So it’s a particular compliment to be asked to supper?”
“Well,” said Aggett slowly, “I wasn’t thinkin’ o’ that. But I dare say you’re right. He’s not a friend to be sniffed at.”
Ah Foo, light-footed and blue-clad, came in with cocktails.