"I'll call at your office in the mornin' for the letter," said Coke, whose red face shone like the setting sun seen through a haze.
"Yes, yes. I'll 'ave it ready."
"An' you won't back out of them extry stores? I must sweeten the crew on this run."
"I'll supply the best of stuff—enough to last for the round trip. But don't make any mistake. You must be back afore September 30th. That's the date of the policy. Now let's trot inside, an' my gal—Mrs. Dickey Bulmer that is to be—will give you some tea."
"Tea!" snorted Coke.
"Well, there's whisky an' soda on tap if you prefer it. It is rather 'ot for tea. Whew! you're boilin'? W'y don't you wear looser clo'es? Look at me—cool as a cucumber. By the way, 'oo's the new man you've shipped as second? Watts is the chief, I know, but 'oo is Mr. Philip Hozier?"
"Youngster fillin' in sea-service to get a ticket an' qualify for the Cunard."
"Thoroughly reliable sort of chap, eh?"
"The best."
It was odd how these men left unsaid the really vital things. Again it was Coke who tried to fill in some part of the blank space.