"Yes, you can. Promise me the command of your next ship, an' the Andromeda goes on the rocks this side o' Monte Video."
Verity jumped as though he had been stung by an infuriated wasp.
"Coke, I'm surprised at you," he grunted, not without a sharp glance around to make sure no other was near.
"No, you ain't, not a bit surprised, on'y you don't like to 'ear it in cold English. That's wot you're drivin' at—the insurance."
"Shut up, you ijjit. Never 'eard such d—d rot in all me born days."
"Listen to it now, then. It's good to 'ave the truth tole you some times. Wot are you afraid of? I take all the risk an' precious little of the money. Write me a letter——"
"Write! Me! Coke, you're loony."
"Not me. Wait till I'm through. Write a letter sayin' you're sorry the Andromeda must be laid up this fall, but promisin' me the next vacancy. 'Ow does that 'urt you?"
Verity's cigar had gone out. He relighted it with due deliberation; it could not be denied that his nerve, at least, was superb.
"I'm willin' to do anything in reason," he said slowly. "I don't see where I can lay 'ands on a better man than you, Jimmie, even if you do talk nonsense at times. You know the South American trade, an' you know me. By gad, I'll do that. Anyhow, it's wot you deserve, but none the less, I'm actin' as a reel friend, now ain't I? Many a man would just lay you up alongside the Andromeeda."