He moved to the bar, a massive figure, beyond the age of a sea-going
engineer, but still as light on his feet as a girl. "Where's she gone?"
He pushed open one of the little glass screens, and put his petulant
face, with its pale eyes set like aquamarines in bronze, into an opening
too small to frame it. "Can you see her, Hanson?"

Hanson winked at me, adjusted the spectacles on his nose, and grinned.
With that grin, and his spectacles, he was as surprising as a handsome
gargoyle. His height compelled him to lean forward and to grin downward,
even when speaking to a big man like Macandrew. He turned to his chief
now, and both hands went up to his spectacles. In the way the corners of
his mouth turned up before he spoke, whimsically wrinkling his nose, and
in his intent and amused regard, there was a suggestion of the mockery of
a low immortal for beings who are fated earnestly to frustrate
themselves. His grin gave you the uncomfortable feeling that it was
useless to pretend you were keeping nothing from him.

"Here goes," said Hanson. "Never mind Jessie. I've got something to
tell you, Chief. I'm leaving you this voyage."

Macandrew was instantly annoyed. "Going? Dammit, you can't. Look at
the crowd I've got now. You mustn't do it."

"I must. They are a thin lot, but you could push the old _Medea_ along
with anything. I've got another ship. My reason is very good, from the
way I look at it."

Hanson turned his grin to me. He was going to enjoy the privilege of
seeing his reasons deemed unreasonable. "Don't think it's a better job
I've got. It's worse. It's a very rummy voyage. We may complete it,