Two or three draggled women called to them from the pierhead, their voices sounding melancholy and harsh.
Barbara had not seen Lister and wondered where he was, until a man plunged out from the neighboring door of the engine-room.

The abruptness of his exit indicated that he had been rudely propelled by somebody behind, and as he lurched across the deck, Lister appeared at the door.
His cap was dark with grease, his overalls were stained, and a black smear ran from his eye to chin.
"Hustle and get that oil drum on the wharf, you drunken hog!" he shouted.

"If I hadn't watched out you'd have left half the truck." He stopped when he saw Barbara.

"This is very kind," he said to her.

"I knew Cartwright was on board, but hadn't hoped you would come to give us a good send-off." Barbara noted his satisfaction and was moved by something in his voice.
He looked thin and fine-drawn in his stained engineer's clothes, and his hands were greasy.