Drew threaded his way through the tangled maze until he reached the end of the pier where the bark Normandy was lying. 

 "Captain Peters around anywhere?" he asked of the second officer, who was superintending the work of the seamen, and had just relieved himself of some remarks that would have made a truck driver envious. 

 "Below in his cabin, sir," was the answer, and Drew went aboard, walked aft, and swung himself down the narrow stairs that led to the captain's quarters. 

 He found the skipper sitting at his table, looking over a sheaf of bills of lading. 

 "Good afternoon, Captain Peters," was Drew's greeting. 

 "Howdy," responded the captain.  "Jest sit down an' make yerself comf'table. I'll be through with these papers in jest a minute or two." 

 His work concluded, the captain shoved the bills aside with a sigh of relief and looked up. 

 "I s'pose ye come to see me about that windlass?" he remarked.  "But first," he added, as Drew was about to reply, "won't ye have somethin' to wet yer whistle?" 

 He reached for a decanter and a couple of glasses. Drew smilingly declined, and the captain, nothing daunted, poured out enough for two and drank it in a single Gargantuan swallow. 

 "I just came to say," explained Drew, as the captain set down the glass, smacking his lips complacently, "that we'll have that windlass over to you by to-morrow, or the next day at the latest. The factory held us up." 

 "That's all right," replied the captain good-naturedly.  "I haven't been worryin' about it. I've been dealin' with Tyke Grimshaw goin' on twenty year an 'he ain't never put me in a hole yet. I knew it would come along in plenty of time fur sailin'." 

 "By the way, when do you sail, Captain?" asked Drew. 

 "In a week, more or less. It all depends on how soon we get our cargo stowed." 

 "What are you carrying?" 

 "Mostly machinery an' cotton prints fur China and Japan." 

 Prev. P 4/201 next