“Have you ever----” he began; but the roar of engines drowned his words, so that the Warrant Officer did not know he had spoken. “How’s the poitry progressin’, Mr. Lynwood?” “Poetry?” “That you writes down here.” With a queer wrench John established the connection with their previous conversation, but his mind was now so full of what he had seen in the crank-pit that he cared not how much had been discovered. “Yes,” he said simply. “I do write poetry down here. What are you going to do about it?” “Do?” The Warrant Officer regarded the defiance in the weary, drawn face raised to his--a face, he reflected, almost comically like those of the half-starved urchins in the back streets of Portsmouth who had looked up at him often enough with just this expression of defiance that was a thin cloak for a spirit near to breaking. “Do? What d’you think I’m goin’ to do? Go to Aggett and give him another chance to have at you?” His voice dropped to as confidential a tone as the noise allowed. John felt his breath upon his cheek. “I served my time on the Lower Deck as a youngster, Mr. Lynwood, an’ I knows how it is with midshipmen. The Lower Deck sees a lot that the Gold Lace don’t care to see. And it ain’t against midshipmen. Them that suffer ain’t against them that suffer. And--if I may say so, by the way--don’t you forget _that_ when you get to the Wardroom. It’s the men who don’t forget that the hands’ll run for.... And as for our Mr. Aggett,” he went on, “as good an engineer he is as I’ve ever known--smart as they make ’em--but not a nice man, not a gentlemanly man, to my way o’ thinkin’. I wouldn’t deliver a midshipman into ’is ’ands, nor any human bein’--not a puppy, even. No, Mr. Lynwood, you needn’t have fear o’ me. You write your poitry and so long as your job’s done an’ you enters up the log at the end o’ the watch there won’t be no complaints from me. But don’t let the stokers catch on. An’ don’t you let Mr. Aggett find you at it.” John gave indistinct thanks. “Are you feelin’ poorly?” the Warrant Officer asked. “N--no.” “Well you looks precious bad, an’ Mr. Driss too. It’s a shame this watch an’ watch. We in the Warrant Officers’ Mess wouldn’t stand it--unless the Service had special need. The stokers wouldn’t stand it; they’d be fallin’ in before the Captain in two ranks. Only the midshipmen stand it. He wouldn’t try it on with no one else. Last night we was sayin’ at Mess we wondered the midshipmen didn’t take it before the Captain.” “We couldn’t.” “Couldn’t?” said the Warrant Officer, not realizing that John had meant “wouldn’t.” “Why there’s not a man or boy in this ship that hasn’t a legal right to take his complaints to the Captain. Couldn’t? How d’you mean?” “It can’t be done in our case.”