“Yes. Fellows in the Wardroom don’t know how much work he puts in. I know him better than most. I _do_ know. They think he’s slack ’cause he only takes a watch now and then. But I give you my word”--he leaned forward and smacked Hartington’s knee--“I give you my word there’s not a man in this ship or any other damned ship who does more work than Ordith.” “I believe it. And he has brains.” “Brains!” Aggett exclaimed. “I should jus’ say he has. One o’ the smartest men alive. And no slop or sentiment. On and on like a well-lubricated engine. And an eye to the main chance--why, I’ll tell you.” He hitched up his chair closer to Hartington’s, and continued with slow emphasis: “Ordith’s a man worth watchin’. Head an’ shoulders above the Service truck. All the powers have an eye on him. Ordith and Co.? Why, you mark my words, Ordith’s goin’ to control more ’n that some day.... Good fellow, too. Think so?” “I like him,” Hartington answered, “though I don’t know him well. None of us knows him well, so far as I can see. He keeps to himself.” “He keeps to himself where the blamed fools are concerned. An’ he looks round slow, an’ takes his pick o’ the best.” Hartington laughed. “So it’s a particular compliment to be asked to supper?” “Well,” said Aggett slowly, “I wasn’t thinkin’ o’ that. But I dare say you’re right. He’s not a friend to be sniffed at.” Ah Foo, light-footed and blue-clad, came in with cocktails. “Rum crowd of snotties in your Gunroom,” Aggett said, when he had sipped his drink and thrown a slice of lemon-peel into the wastepaper basket. “They want shakin’, I think.” “Why? What have they done wrong?” “Oh, nothing in particular; but they seem to take life too easy to my way of thinkin’. Got a nice, thick stick? A taste o’ that would do ’em good.” “Well, you look after them in the Engine-room,” Hartington said, “and I’ll see about the Gunroom; then we shan’t quarrel.” Aggett emptied his glass and rose. “Don’t think I’m tryin’ to poke my finger into your pie. You can mollycoddle the young gents to your heart’s content, for all I care. But you’ll find it doesn’t pay in the long run. You mark my words.” And he went out of the cabin, leaving Hartington to wonder what lay behind this visit and this invitation. He had noticed that Aggett was much in Ordith’s company, and had marvelled that one so uncouth should be so well received in that quarter. What was now afoot? What reason had Ordith to cultivate the acquaintance of the Sub of the Gunroom? And why had Aggett been sent--for it was plain that he had been sent--to sing Ordith’s abilities and importance. When he left Hartington, Aggett went immediately to Ordith’s cabin. He found Nick in white trousers and a singlet, mopping his forehead so that sweat should not run down on to the drawings over which he was bending. At Aggett’s entry Nick looked up, a pair of dividers held between his fingers. “Well?” he said. “O.K. He’ll come.” “Get a drink?” “One cocktail.”