Chance - Page 12/275

"Mr. Powell dipped his pen and began to turn the leaves of the agreement

over. "We must then take his name off," he says in a kind of unconcerned

sing-song.

"What am I to do?" burst out the skipper. "This office closes at four

o'clock. I can't find a man in half an hour."

"This office closes at four," repeats Mr. Powell glancing up and down the

pages and touching up a letter here and there with perfect indifference.

"Even if I managed to lay hold some time to-day of a man ready to go at

such short notice I couldn't ship him regularly here--could I?"

"Mr. Powell was busy drawing his pen through the entries relating to that

unlucky second mate and making a note in the margin.

"You could sign him on yourself on board," says he without looking up.

"But I don't think you'll find easily an officer for such a pier-head

jump."

"Upon this the fine-looking skipper gave signs of distress. The ship

mustn't miss the next morning's tide. He had to take on board forty tons

of dynamite and a hundred and twenty tons of gunpowder at a place down

the river before proceeding to sea. It was all arranged for next day.

There would be no end of fuss and complications if the ship didn't turn

up in time . . . I couldn't help hearing all this, while wishing him to

take himself off, because I wanted to know why Mr. Powell had told me to

wait. After what he had been saying there didn't seem any object in my

hanging about. If I had had my certificate in my pocket I should have

tried to slip away quietly; but Mr. Powell had turned about into the same

position I found him in at first and was again swinging his leg. My

certificate open on the desk was under his left elbow and I couldn't very

well go up and jerk it away.

"I don't know," says he carelessly, addressing the helpless captain but

looking fixedly at me with an expression as if I hadn't been there. "I

don't know whether I ought to tell you that I know of a disengaged second

mate at hand."

"Do you mean you've got him here?" shouts the other looking all over the

empty public part of the office as if he were ready to fling himself

bodily upon anything resembling a second mate. He had been so full of

his difficulty that I verify believe he had never noticed me. Or perhaps

seeing me inside he may have thought I was some understrapper belonging

to the place. But when Mr. Powell nodded in my direction he became very

quiet and gave me a long stare. Then he stooped to Mr. Powell's ear--I

suppose he imagined he was whispering, but I heard him well enough.