"Oh, cook, of course. That'll be it. She'll be steward, naturally. That's reasonable. You've seen her. Jessie's the sort of woman would jump at the chance of such a pleasant trip, as cook." "I don't understand. . . ." "Who said you did? Nobody does but the pair of them. I know what another man might see in Purdy. But a woman! He's middle-aged, quiet, and looks tired. That woman is young and lively, and she'll be bored to death with him on such a trip." "But I thought you said . . ." "What have I said? I've said nothing. Jessie's away to sea as cook. Why not? I'm going inside. Are you coming in?" Crossing the floor of the office, Hanson caught Macandrew's arm. "Your lot are signing-on now." The master of the _Medea_ was round with the official tallying the men by the ship's papers. "I see it," Macandrew answered. "I've signed. I wanted to catch the old man before he began that job." "We're hung up for Purdy," Hanson told him. "Nobody seems to know where he is." Hanson was amused. "Yes. Well . . . he'll be here all right . . . and now this new job which you think so funny, young Hanson. See it goes through. Presently it won't be so funny. Hang on to it then." Hanson was surprised by this, and a trifle hurt. He was beginning to speak, making the usual preliminary adjustment of his spectacles, when a movement near the door checked him. His hands remained at his glasses, as if aiding his sight to certify the unbelievable. "What's this?" he murmured. "Here's Purdy. Isn't that the _Negro Boy's_ barmaid with him . . . is she with him?" He continued to watch, apparently for some sign that this coincidence of his captain and a barmaid in a public office was designed.