Did yer clean that tank out?"
"No, I didn't clean it out."
"Yer didn't? And why in hell didn't yer?"
"Because I don't have to. But I put a couple of men to work and saw that
they cleaned it out. And it was done before you were out of your warm
bunk this morning."
"Who's that big fellow?" The passenger put the question to the captain.
"That's my bosun--and a good one."
"And the other? Know anything of him?"
"The singing one? Nothin', except he's the new pump-man. And I can see
right now it won't be many hours afore the bosun'll beat his head off."
"You think he will?"
"I _know_ he will. Why, look at him--the size of him, and solid's a
rock."
The passenger took another look over the top of the bridge canvas. He
was surely a big man; and under his thin sleeveless jersey, surely a
solid man. And the pump-man, in his skimpy, badly-fitting dungarees,
though of good height, did not look to be much more than half the
other's bulk.
"That same bosun's beat up more men than any shipping agency ever kept a
record of. That's Big Bill. And if you'd ever travelled on oil-tankers,
you'd 'a' heard of him. He's a whale. Take another look at him, Mr.
Noyes."
Noyes took another look. The boson surely was a tremendously muscled
man. He was knobbed with muscle. But Noyes had his own opinion about the
two men, and he hazarded it now.
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