warst was at the last. She'd a great clumsy iron
twelve-foot Thresher propeller--Aitcheson designed the Kites'--and just
on the tail o' the shaft, behind the boss, was a red weepin' crack ye
could ha' put a penknife to. Man, it was an awful crack!

"'When d' ye ship a new tail-shaft?' I said to Bannister.

"He knew what I meant. 'Oh, yon's a superfeecial flaw,' says he, not
lookin' at me.

"'Superfeecial Gehenna!' I said. 'Ye'll not take her oot wi' a solution
o' continuity that like.'

"'They'll putty it up this evening,' he said. 'I'm a married man,
an'--ye used to know the Board.'

"I e'en said what was gied me in that hour. Ye know how a drydock
echoes. I saw young Steiner standin' listenin' above me, an', man, he
used language provocative of a breach o' the peace. I was a spy and a
disgraced employ, an' a corrupter o' young Bannister's morals, an' he'd
prosecute me for libel. He went away when I ran up the steps--I'd ha'
thrown him into the dock if I'd caught him--an' there I met McRimmon,
wi' Dandie pullin' on the chain, guidin' the auld man among the railway
lines.

"'McPhee,' said he, 'ye're no paid to fight Holdock, Steiner, Chase &
Company, Limited, when ye meet. What's wrong between you?'

"'No more than a tail-shaft rotten as a kail-stump. For ony sakes go an'
look, McRimmon. It's a comedietta.'

"'I'm feared o' yon conversational Hebrew,' said he. 'Whaur's the flaw,
an' what like?'

"'A seven-inch crack just behind the boss. There's no power on earth
will fend it just jarrin' off.'

"'When?'

"'That's beyon' my knowledge,' I said.

"'So it is; so it is,' said McRimmon. 'We've all oor leemitations. Ye're
certain it was a crack?'

"'Man, it's a crevasse,' I said, for there were no words to describe
the magnitude of it. 'An' young Bannister's sayin' it's no more than a
superfeecial flaw!'

"'Weell, I tak' it oor business is to mind oor business. If ye've
ony friends aboard her, McPhee, why not bid them to a bit dinner at
Radley's?'

"'I was thinkin' o' tea in the cuddy,' I said. 'Engineers o' tramp
freighters cannot afford hotel prices.'

"'Na! na!' says the auld man, whimperin'. 'Not the cuddy. They'll laugh
at my Kite, for she's no plastered with paint like the Hoor. Bid them to
Radley's, McPhee, an' send me the bill. Thank Dandie, here, man. I'm no
used to thanks.' Then he turned him round. (I was just thinkin' the vara
same thing.) 'Mister McPhee,' said he, 'this is not senile dementi