“No, indeed,” the Commander repeated, and, picking up an illustrated paper, rattled his shirt-cuffs as he turned its pages angrily.
A man appeared at the Casemate door.
“Mr. Hartington ’ere, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Captain wishes to speak to you, sir, in the after-cabin.”
Hartington rose. “Sorry, Ordith.”
“All right, my dear fellow.”
The Commander threw aside his paper. “Hold on a minute Hartington.... You say this stoker is going to die, Aggett?”
“Probable.”
“What’s his name?”