"I've seen trolley cars on the seashore. I've seen electric standards for lighting. What am I to see next on—Labrador?" she asked.
Captain Hardy laughed.
"You've to see the folks who've done it all," he replied. "And—there's one of 'em."
He indicated the squat figure of Bat Harker leaning against some bales piled on the quay. Nancy turned in that direction.
She discovered the rough-clad, almost uncouth figure of Bat. She noted his moving jaws as he chewed vigorously. She saw that a short stubble of beard was growing on a normally clean-shaven face, and that the man's clothing might have been the clothing of any labourer. But the iron cast of his face left her with sudden qualms. It was so hard. To her imagination it suggested complete failure for her mission.
"Is he the—owner? Is he—Mr. Sternford?" Her questions came in a hushed tone that was almost awed.
"No. That's Bat—Bat Harker. He's mill-boss."
"I see." There was relief in Nancy's tone. But it passed as the seaman continued.
"Maybe he's waiting for you though. Are they wise you're coming along? You don't see Bat around this quay without he's lookin' for some folk to come along on the Myra."
The gangway clattered out on to the quay, and the man moved toward it.