His bright little eye had been observant.
“What’s aboard, my lad?”
“Steel beams for some new buildings in Los Angeles.”
“Loaded rather heavy, ain’t she?”
“Too heavy, Uncle.”
“H-m-m. Not any too tight, either, I take it. Hull old an’ rotten; plenty o’ paint to cover up the worm-holes.”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Will you make it, Sam?”
“Can’t say, Uncle Naboth. But I’ll try.”
“Cargo insured?”