“That’s blamed funny!” he thought. “Big cases marked ‘Mining machinery,’ but a couple of stevedores chuck ’em into the slings as if they were empty. Also cases of merchandise put up like heavy prints that seem just as light, and as—— Good Lord! Up there on the bridge! If that ain’t Bill Morris, I’m dotty. So he’s got a ship out here, eh, after it got too hot for him about everywhere else on salt water! Lost two ships in the Pacific trade, under mighty suspicious circumstances, and had his ticket taken away, last I heard of him. Ummh! Ten or twelve years ago, that was. So he’s skipperin’ this craft, eh? If him and me hadn’t locked spars two or three times, I’d go over and rile him up with a leetle light, airy banter. I guess he’s——”
“Hey you! Got any business here? How’d you get past me at the gate?” a voice disturbed him. And although the fellow spoke bastard Greek, Drake, who, with a sailor’s facility, had picked up considerable of the tongue, understood, and turned to see the watchman glowering at him.
“Why?” he asked. “Can’t anybody come onto your dock? Nothing secret about it, is there?”
The watchman sputtered something about none without a pass from Hakim & Letin being allowed in, and somewhat peremptorily ordered Drake to clear out. Not being accustomed to such treatment, disgruntled, affronted, but recognizing the weakness of his position and the futility of retort, Drake turned and, swearing under his breath, obeyed.
It is possible that the episode might have passed from his mind entirely, but for an encounter that followed some hours later, when, just as he was turning toward the Malabart, a man whose face bore the almost indelible stamp of the engine rooms of ships, with grease worked deeply into the pores of the skin, respectfully touched his cap peak and accosted him in fairly good, though accented, English.
“Captain Drake,” he said. “Excuse me, sir, for stopping you, but I am a good man out of work, and want a job on your ship, sir.”
“Sorry, my man, but we’re full up,” Captain Eli replied. “Too full,” he added, and would have proceeded on his way, had not the applicant insisted.
“I am good man, sir. First-class engineer; but I would take anything in your engine room. Because me, I have big family, and ships are all full now, it seems to me, sir. I lose job when not my fault. Not at all. When I took engines of ship Rhodialim anybody tell you they scrap heap. I make ’em good. And now, without word, since that Captain Bill Morris come, I am fired. He say have his own engineer and——”
“Huh? What’s that?” Captain Eli, who had been slowly moving forward with the insistent one at his side, stopped and stared at the man. “Do you happen to know the name of the new engineer?”
“It is Simmons, or Simons, or something like that.”