I was leaning over the starboard railing, waiting for a boat, when Ross, the ship's doctor, came sauntering along the deck, puffing contentedly at a large Manilla cigar. "Hullo, Dryden!" he observed, in that pleasant drawling voice of his. "Busy as usual?" Having just completed five hours' strenuous toil, supervising the unlading of cargo, I could afford to treat his effort at sarcasm with the contempt that it deserved. "Are you coming ashore?" I asked. He shook his head. "I'm not the second...
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