Istanbul
“It was not that the weather was bad — there was a gentle swell running — but that the Bannockburn was so old. Moreover she was without cargo and carrying insufficient ballast, which had been badly stowed. So the old girl was down by the bow, digging her prow into every wave, rising and shaking the spray off herself like a bedraggled old hen. She was an ancient rustpot with a paintless superstructure and sprung plates and tubercular pumps that barely kept her afloat. Yet there was a certain path...etic dignity about her. She was going home to die.
The Second Engineer was explaining this to Norris, the new oiler who had come aboard at Suez. They had left the reeking engine room to catch a breath of clean sea air and enjoy a smoke abaft the old fashioned high bridge.
The Second was normally a dour man, not much given to chat. But he had an itch of curiosity about the new oiler. Norris, Thomas J.!
Nay, thought the Second.MoreLess
The Second Engineer was explaining this to Norris, the new oiler who had come aboard at Suez. They had left the reeking engine room to catch a breath of clean sea air and enjoy a smoke abaft the old fashioned high bridge.
The Second was normally a dour man, not much given to chat. But he had an itch of curiosity about the new oiler. Norris, Thomas J.!
Nay, thought the Second.MoreLess
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