The Maggie Read Online Free PDF

loudspeakers, teleprinters: these were the weapons with which he fought against the erosion of precious hours and minutes. From early morning until late evening his office bustled with swift, efficient movement and the hubbub of urgent conversation. The telephone was a fractious master whose impatient ring must be instantly answered.
    In such a kingdom Pusey was a lord high chamberlain. He would do, or try to do, anything that was ordered. As he came with a worried frown from the manager’s room Marshall’s voice sounded angrily through the outer office: ‘. . . know as well as I do that we can’t afford mistakes. The first principle of sound business administration . . .’ Pusey closed the door, leaving the three departmental managers to their fate.
    â€˜Mr Campbell’s on the line now, Mr Pusey.’ Miss Peters, Marshall’s smart young secretary, held out the telephone.
    â€˜Thank you.’ He came fussily across, but as he lifted the receiver to his ear it was plain that his attention was still on the glazed door where Marshall’s shadow, the forceful gesticulating hand, could be seen.
    â€˜Hello! Mr Campbell?’ He heard the broad Scottish acknowledgment four hundred miles away in Glasgow. ‘Mr Campbell, I was rather anxious, so I thought I’d call you . I trust the cargo got away all right.’
    â€˜What cargo would that be?’
    â€˜Why the cargo on the boat, of course.’
    â€˜What boat?’
    â€˜What boat! The boat I chartered yesterday!’ He tried to keep calm, but the seed of panic was there in his brain. Miss Peters, standing efficiently at his side, looked at him enquiringly, ready with pencil and notebook, a directory, another telephone. Marshall’s voice still boomed terror through the door.
    In Glasgow Campbell was saying, ‘You found a boat, then? Well done!’
    â€˜Found a boat!’ Pusey put one hand over the mouthpiece as he turned to Miss Peters. ‘Really, this man is utterly impossible !’ Into the telephone he said, ‘Surely you’ve heard from your Captain MacTaggart.’
    Campbell was saying, ‘This laddie’s off his head,’ only he didn’t trouble to cover the mouthpiece. He said, ‘D’ye mean to say ye made arrangements with MacTaggart?’
    Pusey was covering his eyes with his free hand. ‘Really,Mr Campbell, in all my experience . . .’ His whole body stiffened with feminine indignation as laughter came echoing from the receiver. ‘I’m so glad you find it humorous!’
    The voice on the telephone spluttered an apology. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Pusey. Only Captain Jamieson here heard me use MacTaggart’s name. He was telling me about all the fuss down at Broomilaw.’
    â€˜Fuss? Broomilaw? Do you think you could possibly explain?’
    â€˜Yes, well . . .’ There was a moment of indistinct talk as though Captain Jamieson was finishing the story, and then Campbell bellowed again with laughter. ‘Ye mean it’s still there?’
    Pusey pursed his lips and waited.
    At last, as the laughter died down, Campbell came back on the line. ‘Mr Pusey, I really must apologise. Only, I must tell you – MacTaggart has nothing to do with our organisation. He’s master of an old Puffer – aye, the Maggie . And d’ye mean to say ye put your cargo on his boat?’ He began to laugh again. ‘Ach, the chances are ye’ve seen the last of it! But I can give ye a piece of information about it. Something I’ve just heard. Early this morning . . .’
    As he recounted with gusto the truth about MacTaggart and about the Maggie and her crew poor Pusey listened with growing horror. His eyes widened. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. ‘Oh, no . . . Oh, no . . . but that isn’t possible!’ Adding to his horror the door of Marshall’s room opened and the three