“Six inches of freeboard, barring her false bulwarks of deal boards, and she’s going out to—­I forget the name of the place, but I could show you where it is within a hundred miles on a map that doesn’t give its name.  It’s up the Pondurucu.”

Macandrew made no sign, and Hanson, his humour a little damped, spoke more seriously.  “I don’t think she’ll ever get there, but it will be interesting to see where she stops, and why.”

Macandrew heaved round on his junior.  “There’s drivel.  It sounds well from an engineer and a mathematician, doesn’t it?” He turned away again.  “Supposing,” he said, over his shoulder, “supposing you pull this ship through all right, then where will you be?  Any better off?”

“I think so,” said Hanson.  He couldn’t talk to Macandrew’s back, so he bent over me and pointed a challenging finger at my necktie.  “I’ve never risked anything yet, not even my job.  This is where I do it.  It’ll be nice to attempt something when the odds are that you can’t finish it, and there’s nothing much in it if you do.  Why,” he said, grinning at his Chief’s back, “if I were to stay with him I’d become so normal that I’d slip into marriage and safety as a matter of course, and have to give up everything.”

“Who’s in charge of this lunacy?” asked Macandrew.  His voice was a little truculent.

“All right, Chief.  I shan’t remember his name any the better because you’re annoyed with me.  I haven’t seen the skipper yet.  I think I heard him called Purdy.”

“Purdy?  Bill Purdy?” Macandrew was incredulous.  “Do you know what you’ve let yourself in for?  If Purdy’s got the job, I know why.  Nobody else would take it, and he’s the last man, anyway, who ought to have it.”

“What, drink?” asked Hanson.

“Lord, no.  Not Purdy.  No.  It’s the man himself.  I’ve known him a long time, and I like him, but he’ll never do.  He can’t make up his mind to a course.  Don’t you remember the Campeachy case?  I expect it was before your time.  Purdy had her.  He was coming up-Channel, and got nervous over the weather, and put into Portland for a pilot.  There was no pilot.  So he decided to put out again and go on.  It never occurred to him that as he was in shelter he’d better stay there till a pilot arrived, because getting out of that was exactly when he’d want one.  He put her ashore.  That was like Purdy, to play for safety and make a wreck.  When he got over the fuss Lloyd’s raised about it he refused to take command again for some time.  He couldn’t even make up his mind whether he wanted a ship at all.”

Hanson listened to this with the air of one who was being reassured in a doubtful enterprise.

“You mistake me, Chief,” he said.  “You are only improving my reasons for going.  Not only is the ship crank, but so is her skipper.  Now tell me . . .”