Martin was sleeping when Rio returned. He awakened and saw the big sailor looking down at him.
“I seen Mrs. Idara. She wants to talk to you.”
“She wants to talk to you,” Rio repeated.
“You’re high-handed.” Martin shook his head. “What about the _Steeldeer_, now that you’ve seen me over the bumps?”
“You ain’t over the bumps, and I don’t want the _Steeldeer_. There’s a boomer in next week, and no goo-goos in the messroom. I’ll see then.”
“Stow it,” interrupted Rio, jamming his cap on his head. “You got a job. I’ll see you later.”
“That’s right,” said Martin. He got out of bed and put on his coat. Then he stood looking solemnly at his friend. “I’ll probably be back next week—or sooner——”
Martin kept looking at him. Then, without speaking further, he turned suddenly, went to the door and walked out.
When Rio could no longer hear his footsteps he sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette, but put it out immediately and carefully laid it on the washstand. For awhile he paced back and forth in his room. Then he went down to the desk and called out to the woman behind it.
Rio left the Brat and went to the waterfront. The salt air, the breeze and the innocuous drainage of people took away some of his disgust. The _Comber_, bound for Buenos Aires, was tied up at Pier V 9. A watchman stopped Rio at the gate.
“Hold off,” he said roughly. “What’s it from you?”
“Flowers for the shore gang,” said Rio, in a high voice.
“Oh. It’s you, eh?” He passed his hand over the gray stubble on his chin. “I figured you’d be headin’ south about this time.”
“Who’s the mate, Watch?” asked Rio, who was now grinning.
“The same baby they had last trip,” answered the watchman, spitting abeam of the wind.
“Thanks, Cap,” said Rio. He went through the warehouse to the pier and started up the gangplank. A mess-boy, flour covering his shoulders, cried “Gangway!” Rio twisted past him, indifferently brushing his sleeve where the boy had bumped into him. At the top of the plank Rio called to the quartermaster. “Where’s the mate?”
Rio started forward, then turned and went aft to the last house ’midships. He opened the door of the sailors’ messroom and walked in. A few men were sitting around the table which was covered with dirty oilcloth. They were drinking coffee. One of them got up.
