He shrugged, injured. "But it's all right, Sam. No fooling. There are plenty of other tankers around. Plenty. Down toward the Amboys, maybe moored out in the channel. There must be. We'll find them." [Illustration] "No," I said. "_You_ will." And that was all I said, because I am forgiving by nature; but I thought a great deal more. Surprisingly, though, he did find a tanker with a full load, the very next day. It became a question of getting the tanker to the _Queen_. I left that part up to Vern, since he claimed to be able to handle it. It took him two weeks. First it was finding the tanker, then it was locating a tug in shape to move, then it was finding someone to pilot the tug. Then it was waiting for a clear and windless day--because the pilot he found had got all his experience sailing Star boats on Long Island Sound--and then it was easing the tanker out of Newark Bay, into the channel, down to the pier in the North River-- Oh, it was work and no fooling. I enjoyed it very much, because I didn't have to do it. * * * * * But I had enough to keep me busy at that. I found a man who claimed he used to be a radio engineer. And if he was an engineer, I was Albert Einstein's mother, but at least he knew which end of a soldering iron was hot. There was no need for any great skill, since there weren't going to be very many vessels to communicate with. Things began to move. The advantage of a ship like the _Queen_, for our purposes, was that the thing was pretty well automated to start out with. I mean never mind what the seafaring unions required in the way of flesh-and-blood personnel. What it came down to was that one man in the bridge or wheelhouse could pretty well make any part of the ship go or not go. The engine-room telegraph wasn't hooked up to control the engines, no. But the wiring diagram needed only a few little changes to get the same effect, because where in the original concept a human being would take a look at the repeater down in the engine room, nod wisely, and push a button that would make the engines stop, start, or whatever--why, all we had to do was cut out the middleman, so to speak. Our genius of the soldering iron replaced flesh and blood with some wiring and, presto, we had centralized engine control. The steering was even easier. Steering was a matter of electronic control and servomotors to begin with. Windjammers in the old movies might have a man lashed to the wheel whose muscle power turned the rudder, but, believe me, a big superliner doesn't. The rudders weigh as much as any old windjammer ever did from stem to stern; you have to have motors to turn them; and it was only a matter of getting out the old soldering iron again. By the time we were through, we had every operational facility of the _Queen_ hooked up to a single panel on the bridge.