“Your tug won’t be alongside till six this evening.”

“At six this evening! Why not this morning?”

“She’s blown some of her god-dam guts out.”

“Where is she?”

“Having her guts done at Ytá-Ytá.”

“Right.”

“Will you tell Captain Cary?”

“Right, Mister.”

“The Otoque will be in. You’ll get your mail before you sail. So long, Mister.”

“So long, Mister.”