"As like as not paid off there. We've no contracts against it," he said in a fume.
It was the attitude of McCrae, the chief engineer, that interested me in view of his professed opinions. He unfolded his mind to me one evening when we had been out some ten days.
"It's like this, doctor. The man's sheer sick of courts and barbarisms, and he's in search of a healthy, independent life, which he needs, I'm thinking. That's to his credit altogether. But it's a wonderful thing, when you come to think of it, that one man like that should upset the politics of Europe, and a man that does not achieve it, mind you, but gets it by mere birth and chance. The paper said he had a million of his own. A fool could be independent on that, aye, and live healthy, too, if he weren't too much of a fool. But what right has a man with wealth like that, I ask you? As Mr. Holgate was saying yesterday, it's an insult to decent, hardworking men like you and me."
"So that's Mr. Holgate's idea, is it?" said I, and mused. The engineer was proceeding in the strain when I saw the face of the boatswain jump suddenly into the dimness of the engine-room. It was a thin-lipped, gaunt face, lacking eyebrows, which added to the gauntness, and the general complexion was red to the shade of crimson. When his jaw was in repose it appeared as if the lower part of his face had been sucked up into the upper like a lid into its box. But now his jaw was open, disclosing a plentiful lack of teeth.
"You're wanted, doctor," he said, in his abrupt voice. "There's been an accident forward."
I left at once and followed him, asking some necessary questions.
"I don't know exactly how it occurred," he said in answer.
"One of the men, Adams, fell on something and it's drilled a hole in him."
When we reached the man's berth he was surrounded by a number of the crew, whom I ordered off.
"If I've got anything to do I don't want to be hampered," I said, "so clear out and leave Adams to me and the boatswain."