I took a cab to Wharf 67. The Lucella’s red paint shone in the late morning sun. Above her floated a cloud of white smoke. Grain dust. The Lucella was loading. I climbed the steel ladder to the main deck. I stopped to look at the men working on the deck and then I climbed up to the bridge. Only Mike Sheridan, the chief engineer, was there. He looked up in surprise when I came in, recognizing me at once.