“Yes,” laughed Wilson, “anything, to heaving coal.”

“’Fraid of your neck?” asked Stubbs.

“Try me.”

“Gut any family?”

“No.”

“Ever shipped afore?”

“No.”

Stubbs settled further back in his chair and studied the ceiling.

“Wotcher want to git there for?”

“I have a friend who’s somewhere down there,” he said frankly.