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He was surely a big man; and under his thin sleeveless jersey, surely a solid man. And the pump-man, in his skimpy, badly-fitting dungarees, though of good height, did not look to be much more than half the other's bulk. "That same bosun's beat up more men than any shipping agency ever kept a record of. That's Big Bill. And if you'd ever travelled on oil-tankers, you'd 'a' heard of him.
He appealed to the men at his back. "He won't stand up like a man. He leaps around like a bloody monkey." "That's right, bosun. Stand up to him there, you!" That was the carpenter's voice. And others followed. 'Twasn't so men'd been used to fightin' on oil-tankers. No, sir. "Stand to him breast to breast!" The carpenter led further clamorous voices. "Aye, breast to breast be it."
"Of course, and I'm after a berth as pump-man on your oil ship sailing to-day for the Gulf." "And what, may I ask, do you know of our class of ships?" "Only what I've heard most modern oil-tankers afloat, and I'd like to try one out and sail the Gulf again, if you'll give me the chance." "M-m what are your qualifications?" "Qualifications? For pump-man on an oil-tanker?" "Pump-man yes.
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