for his being
on the spot was plausible, it was, perhaps, strange the head of a
merchant house would stop for some time at a factory where his clerks
died. However, now Lister thought about it, Montgomery did not state if
he had been there long.

"The fellow was generous with his liquor and his boy can mix a
cocktail," he remarked.

Brown grinned. "On the Coast, they're all generous with liquor.
Montgomery knows this; but I've a notion you are wondering whether he
knows me. I reckon not, but he knows the kind of skipper you generally
meet in the palm oil trade. Still the type's going out; now ship-owners
pay higher, they get better men. In fact, I'm something of a survival
from the old school."

He picked up the plan and Lister thought about Montgomery. The man was
ill and highly-strung, but this was not strange. The factory was rather
a daunting spot; reeking with foul smells and haunted by a sense of
gloom. Lister thought one might get morbid and imaginative if one
stopped there long. Yet he rather liked Montgomery; there was something
attractive about him. Perhaps if they had met in brighter surroundings,
when the other's health and mood were normal, they might have been
friends. Now, however, he doubted and saw Brown was not satisfied.

The line he held jerked and he signed to the men at the pump. One kept
the cranks turning; the other went to the top of a ladder lashed to the
hulk's side. The bubbles moved away from the wreck and broke the surface
in a fixed, sparkling patch. The diver was coming up and Lister
presently helped him on board. When they had taken off his copper helmet
and unfastened his canvas he leaned against the pump and breathed hard.

"Well?" said Brown, after waiting a minute or two for the man to get
back his normal breathing.

"She lies with a sharp list; sand's high up her starboard bilge.
Engine-room doors jambed, but I found the stokehold grating and got some
way down the ladder. Sand's washed down and buried the starboard
bunkers. To clear out the stuff will be a long job."

"Packed hard?"

The diver nodded. "Like cement! I reckon the pump won't move it."

Lister understood the captain's frown. Sometimes the sand that enters a
sunken vessel solidifies, with the pressure of surf or tide, into a mass
that one can hardly dig out. This, however, was not all.

"Starboard bunkers buried?" Brown resumed. "They were pretty full. When
she left Forcados she had a list to port, and they