with luck. It's a boat-running lunacy, and some mining gear. She's
called the _Cygnet_. I've been over her, and we shall call her something
different before we see the last of her."

"Then why are you going?" I asked him.

"To see what will happen. . . ."

Macandrew interrupted him. "What? And you next on the list for Chief?
You're romantic, young man, and that means you're no engineer. Is there
a lot of money in it?"

"There isn't, but there's some life. I want to know what I'm made of.
Shall I ever learn it under you? Down below in the _Medea_ is like
winding up a clock and going to sleep. Do you know the _Cygnet_ has six
inches of freeboard?" He was talking to me, but kept glancing sideways
to see what effect this had on Macandrew. But Macandrew's broad back was
impassive.

"Six inches of freeboard, barring her false bulwarks of deal boards, and
she's going out to--I forget the name of the place, but I could show you
where it is within a hundred miles on a map that doesn't give its name.
It's up the Pondurucu."

Macandrew made no sign, and Hanson, his humour a little damped, spoke
more seriously. "I don't think she'll ever get there, but it will be
interesting to see where she stops, and why."

Macandrew heaved round on his junior. "There's drivel. It sounds well
from an engineer and a mathematician, doesn't it?" He turned away again.