Men will tak' a dredger across the Atlantic if they 're well
fed, an' fetch her somewhere on the broadside o' the Americas; but
bad food's bad service the warld over.
"The bill went to McRimmon, an' he said no more to me till the
week-end, when I was at him for more paint, for we'd heard the Kite
was chartered Liverpool-side. 'Bide whaur ye're put,' said the
Blind Deevil. 'Man, do ye wash in champagne? The Kite's no leavin'
here till I gie the order, an' - how am I to waste paint onher, wi'
the Lammergeyer docked for who knows how long an' a'?'
"She was our big freighter - McIntyre was engineer - an' I knew she'd
come from overhaul not three months. That morn I met McRimmon's
head-clerk - ye'll not know him - fair bitin' his nails off wi'
mortification.
"'The auld man's gone gyte,' says he. 'He's withdrawn the Lammergeyer.'
"'Maybe he has reasons,' says I.
"'Reasons! He's daft!'
"'He'll no be daft till he begins to paint,' I said.
"'That's just what he's done - and South American freights higher
than we'll live to see them again. He's laid her up to paint her -
to paint her - to paint her!' says the little clerk, dancin' like a
hen on a hot plate.
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