“Does the engine run?” asked Hank of the soft job man.
“Run,” said Jake. “Well the last time I heard of it runnin’, it run off its bed plates. That’s the yarn I got from one of the chaps that were in her on her last cruise—but maybe it’s a lie.”
“Now look here,” said Hank, “you deal straight with me and I’ll deal straight with you to the tune of five dollars. I don’t want to buy old junk. Is there anything wrong with this ship?” He nudged George as he spoke.
“Well,” said Jake, “I oughtn’t to be talking, I s’pose, I’m put here to show her to parties, but I haven’t swore to say nothing; anything wrong with her? Why she’s all wrong, the sticks are carrots and the plankin’s mush, run that there injin and you’ll shake her to pieces, get her in a beam sea and she’ll strain her heart open. But mind you she’s fast, her lines are good, but they’re just lines held together by a lick of paint.”
Hank was down on his knees testing the planking to which the bed plates were fixed with his knife.
Then he rose up and led the way on deck. They examined the foc’sle. It had accommodations for six.
Coming out of the foc’sle, Hank began a cruise of his own, poking about here and there. Then he dived down below again.
When he came on deck he handed Jake the five dollars for his information and they left the ship.
He took George’s arm as they went along the wharf.