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"Mind how you get out," he said, when the boat bumped against the slimy ladder that did duty for a stairway. "The steps are greasy, and those togs of yours are hardly suited to this job." Garstin flushed but made no remark, and Trevannion flattered himself that the hint would not be wasted. He had already decided that the new engineer would have to be taught many things. This was Lesson No. 1.
It was like the sound of blows. There cannot be anybody there now, can there?" Trevannion halted and listened. "I don't hear anything," he said presently. "Besides, who could be on the wharf now? You know the regulations, and the watchman is there to enforce them." "I think the noise has stopped." Trevannion flashed the lantern on him suspiciously. "Nerves again" had come into his mind.
At any rate, there was no doubt that within these four stuffy walls Garstin was in his element. Trevannion clearly was not. In half an hour his treasured theories had been picked to pieces and his stock of argument was exhausted, whilst his rival appeared as fresh as the woodwork. But the climax was reached when Section D came up for discussion. Things had not gone well with Section D in practice.
He was gesturing excitedly with the almost-full glass in his hand; Prince Trevannion stepped back out of the way of the splash he anticipated. "I have no sympathy for these ci-devant Masters. They own every stick and stone and pinch of dust on this planet, as it is. Is that fair?" "Possibly not. But neither is what you're proposing to do." Obray, Count Erskyll, couldn't see that.
They came aboard stiffly hostile most understandably so, under the circumstances and Prince Trevannion exerted all his copious charm to thaw them out, beginning with the pre-dinner cocktails and continuing through the meal. By the time they retired for coffee and brandy to the parlor where the conference was to be held, the Lords-ex-Masters were almost friendly.
Count Erskyll chatted with forced affability while the departing committeemen were being seen to the launch that would take them down. When the airlock closed behind them, he drew Prince Trevannion aside out of earshot of their subordinates. "You know what you're doing?" he raged, in a hoarse whisper. "You're simply substituting peonage for outright slavery!" "I'd call that something of a step."
Then he started cursing and threatening that he would do for the wharf and for me too, unless I relented. Of course I didn't relent. I turned him out he was half-drunk. And there what do you think? there was Garstin with his hands covering his face, shivering and shaking as if he had seen a ghost. "'I am sure that fellow means mischief, Mr. Trevannion, he muttered.
He was a generation younger than Prince Trevannion, as Shatrak was a generation older; they were both smooth-faced. It was odd, how beards went in and out of fashion with alternate generations. He had been worried, too, during the landing, but for a different reason from the others. Now he was reacting with anger. "I told you, from the first, that it was unnecessary. You see?
Trevannion stood six-foot-one in his stockings, and his frame was well knit with muscles that were supple as well as strong; naturally, he believed that physical fitness was essential to a good engineer, especially to an engineer in charge of a rather rough crew of workmen. He resolved by-and-by to recommend a course of Sandow to the new hand.
Trevannion heard this story during his convalescence a lengthy period, since two ribs were broken as well as the arm, and he had suffered severely from shock and exposure. In answer to a question Garstin said that at the time he had scarcely noticed the physical strain. The thing that was uppermost in his mind was the fear that Trevannion might drown before he could get to him.
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