Owing to the continued bad weather and the difficulty of shipping
small quantities of fuel, the pumping-engines ran out of coal, and
a complaint from Babcock's office brought the agent of the coal
company to the sea-wall. In times like these Babcock rarely left
his work. Once let the Old Man of the Sea, as he knew, get his
finger in between the cracks of a coffer-dam, and he would smash
the whole into wreckage.

"I was on my way to see Tom Grogan," said the agent. "I heard you
were here, so I stopped to tell you about the coal. There will be
a load down in the morning. I am Mr. Crane, of Crane & Co.,
coal-dealers."

"You know Mrs. Grogan, then?" asked Babcock, after the delay in
the delivery of the coal had been explained. He had been waiting
for some such opportunity to discover more about his stevedore.
He never discussed personalities with his men.

"Well, I should say so--known her for years. Best woman on top of
Staten Island. Does she work for you?"

"Yes, and has for some years; but I must confess I never knew
Grogan was a woman until I found her on the dock a few weeks ago,
handling a cargo. She works like a machine. How long has she
been a widow?"

"Well, come to think of it, I don't know that she is a widow.
There's some mystery about the old man, but I never knew what.
But that don't count; she's good enough as she is, and a hustler,