"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Simpson. I won't retort because you'll be ill if I do. We're in for bad weather in the Bay, I'm afraid. Glass falling with a run."
"I've never been to sea before," remarked Gerald hopelessly, yet surprised that the captain should take his challenge so mildly.
"Well, you'll get your sea-legs on this voyage, I can tell you," laughed the heavy-jowled captain.
At that moment the first mate came in, holding himself as he stood against the heavy rolling of the tramp steamer.
"Cargo is shifting a bit in number four hold, sir," he said. "Shall I tell Jenkins to call the men and see to it?"
"Yes. Do what the devil you like, Hutton," snapped the captain. "I see we're in for hellish weather. Look at the glass!"
"I noticed it half an hour ago, sir. We shall catch it strong after sundown."
"Yes, we shall. Better make everything tight now."
Then, turning to Durrant, Captain Bowden, refilling his pipe, remarked:
"That's the worst of these cursed old tubs. But you see, after the war they can't get new ones. All those labour troubles on the Clyde have interfered with shipbuilding. I was promised a brand-new boat a year ago. But she's still on the stocks. When she goes out I shall do the ferry trade from the Levant to London—four weeks out and home."