he door handle rattled, and the second engineer appeared in the opening, shadowy in the sheen of the skylight at his back, with his face apparently as black as the rest of his figure.
"We have been very long coming up this time," Mr. Massy growled, without changing his attitude.
"What do you expect with half the boiler tubes plugged up for leaks." The second defended himself loquaciously.
"None of your lip," said Massy.
"None of your rotten boilers--I say," retorted his faithful subordinate without animation, huskily. "Go down there and carry a head of steam on them yourself--if you dare. I don't."
"You aren't worth your salt then," Massy said. The other made a faint noise which resembled a laugh but might have been a snarl.
"Better go slow than stop the ship altogether," he admonished his admired superior. Mr. Massy moved at last. He turned in his chair, and grinding his teeth--
"Dam' you and the ship! I wish she were at the bottom of the sea. Then you would have to starve."
The trusty second engineer closed the door gently.
Massy listened. Instead of passing on to the bathroom where he should have gone to clean himself, the second entered his cabin, which was next door. Mr. Massy jumped up and waited. Suddenly he heard the lock snap in there. He rushed out and gave a violent kick to the door.
"I believe you are locking yourself up to get drunk," he shouted.
A muffled answer came after a while.
