Christy was excited by that.
“From little old England! What’s she doing? Let’s go and see the Old Man!”
At the top of the gangway was a young skipper, who looked surprised when Christy hailed him in his own tongue.
“Glad to see you, gentlemen,” he said, with cheery greeting. “Come into my cabin and have a spot. It’s biting cold.”
He mixed a stiff dose for each of them, and raised his own glass.
“Cheery oh!”
“What are you carrying to Petrograd?” asked Christy.
“Railway engines. All German. From Hamburg. My owners have a contract to carry eight hundred. Four at a time. It looks as if I’ll get frozen in, this trip.”
Christy looked over to Bertram, and raised his eyebrows, before asking another question.
“How do the Bolshies pay for German engines, skipper?”