"Who said you did? Nobody does but the pair of them. I know what
another man might see in Purdy. But a woman! He's middle-aged, quiet,
and looks tired. That woman is young and lively, and she'll be bored to
death with him on such a trip."

"But I thought you said . . ."

"What have I said? I've said nothing. Jessie's away to sea as cook.
Why not? I'm going inside. Are you coming in?"

Crossing the floor of the office, Hanson caught Macandrew's arm. "Your
lot are signing-on now." The master of the _Medea_ was round with the
official tallying the men by the ship's papers. "I see it," Macandrew
answered. "I've signed. I wanted to catch the old man before he began
that job."

"We're hung up for Purdy," Hanson told him. "Nobody seems to know where
he is." Hanson was amused.

"Yes. Well . . . he'll be here all right . . . and now this new job
which you think so funny, young Hanson. See it goes through. Presently
it won't be so funny. Hang on to it then."

Hanson was surprised by this, and a trifle hurt. He was beginning to
speak, making the usual preliminary adjustment of his spectacles, when a
movement near the door checked him. His hands remained at his glasses,
as if aiding his sight to certify the unbelievable.

"What's this?" he murmured. "Here's Purdy. Isn't that the _Negro Boy's_