out of the
dark, their horns glimmering in the beam of the lamps.

After a few moments Lister helped her down on the steamer's bridge-deck.
The boat listed away from the wall. Her tall red funnel was inclined
sharply, much of her side was above water, and muddy streams poured from
the scuppers on the after deck, where men with long boots pulled a
hose-pipe about. The boat was horribly dirty, but her lean bows and the
length of the iron engine-room casing indicated speed.

A man came along the bridge-deck, and Barbara thought the gold bands on
his cap indicated the captain. He stopped and when he glanced at Lister
she blushed, for there was a hint of sympathetic understanding in her
smile.

"We won't want you until high-water," he said and went off.

Barbara hoped Lister had not seen her blush and thought he had not. He
took her down some iron steps and to a door in a dark passage.

"Our mess-room," he said. "I expect it's the quietest spot on board the
ship."

He pushed the door open and stopped. The small room was bright with
electric light and a young man and woman sat opposite each other at the
table. The man's uniform was stained by oil; the girl was pretty and
fashionably dressed, but Barbara knew her clothes were cheap. She stood
at the door, hesitating, and the man gave Lister a smile like the
captain's.

"I didn't expect you yet, but come in," he said. "The tea's not cold,
and Mike has made some doughnuts."

"Mr. Robertson, my chief," Lister said to Barbara, and the man presented
Lister to his companion, and put a machine in a box on the floor. "Now
there's room; I was pulling out the indicator diagrams," he added.
"Won't you take off your coat, Miss Hyslop, and try Mike's doughnuts?"

The little room was hot, and when Barbara hung up her furs she noted the
other girl's appraising glance. Miss Grant poured some black tea from a
big cracked pot and pushed across a tin of condensed milk and a plate of
greasy buns. When Barbara picked one up and looked at it doubtfully
Robertson opened a drawer.

"We pull ours in two, but I expect you'd like a knife," he said.

He found a knife, which he rubbed on the table-cloth. "I used the thing
on the indicator, the contraption in the box, but I think it's clean
enough."

Barbara ate her doughnut and drank the bitter tea. Miss Grant looked
friendly and she liked the engineer. They were frank, human people, and
she thought them kind. Robertson began to talk about