Aubyn glanced at the man's face. Although outwardly a casual look he marked the fellow's features. He was convinced that he had not seen him before, but that was not to be wondered at, as there is no necessity for the deck-officers to know the greasers and firemen individually as in the case of the deckhands. Nevertheless, he felt certain that he would know the man again.
"Hang on a few moments," bawled Raeburn, for the noise in this quarter was deafening. He vanished, leaving Terence in his unaccustomed and distasteful surroundings while he went to find his chief.
Presently McBride appeared, dirty, smothered in oil and perspiring like the proverbial bull. The chief engineer was one of those officers who was not content with mere supervision. When work of an urgent nature, such as the present, was at hand, he tackled it methodically and deliberately.
"Ma compliments to Captain Ramshaw," said McBride, when Terence had delivered his message, "but I'll nae commit mesel'. The wurrk is takin' longer than I anticipated, and we're doin' double shifts to set things aright. Gie' him to onderstan' that directly we are able to raise steam, steam will be raised, but not before."
"Haven't you any idea?" asked Aubyn.
"Nay, I'll nae commit mesel'," reiterated the chief engineer, and without another word he hastened back to his cramped quarters in the tunnel of the starboard main shafting.
Raeburn followed his chum to the engine-room door.
"Look me up at seven bells to-night," he said. "We'll do a little amateur detective business. That greaser I pointed out is new to the ship. Joined us at Southampton. There's nothing out of the ordinary about that, but on one or two nights I've noticed him talking to a second-class passenger. On the first occasion I stumbled upon them by accident, and they shut up like oysters. Then when the trouble developed, I remarked this somewhat unusual meeting and kept a watch. At the same hour these two met, and the passenger handed our man a small packet of something. It might have been tobacco, of course; but curiously enough we've discovered the cause of the bearings of the two main shafts seizing and getting almost red-hot. There were phosphor-bronze filings in the drip lubricators. Now, it's a remarkable thing that it was part of this greaser's duties—Stone is his name, by the by—to attend to the lubrication of these bearings; and I'll swear he couldn't get hold of phosphor-bronze filings from the engineers' stores. So I want you to keep a lookout on the passenger; I don't know his name, but if you see them you can easily find that out."
"Why not inform McBride?" asked Terence.
"When I have proof," replied Raeburn. "So look out for me at seven bells."