Cappy Ricks Retires | Page 5

the ghost of a sardonic little smile. Only
an Irishman can get the right tempo to that grunt--and the tempo is
everything. In the case of Terence Reardon it said distinctly: "I hope
you're right, sir, but privately I have my doubts." However, not satisfied
with pantomime, Mr. Reardon went a trifle farther--for reasons best
known to himself. He laved the corner of his mouth with the tip of a
tobacco-stained tongue and said presently: "I can't say, Misther Ricks,
that I quite like the cut av that fella's jib."
That was the Irish of it. A representative of any other race on earth
would have employed the third person singular when referring to the
absent Murphy; only an Irishman would have said "that fella," and only
a certain kind of Irishman could have managed to inject into such
simple words such a note of scorn supernal. Cappy Ricks got the
message--just like that.
"Then stay off his bridge, Reardon," he warned the chief. "Your job is
in the engine-room, so even if you and Captain Murphy do not like
each other, there will be no excuse for friction. The only
communication you need have with him is through the engine-room
telegraph."
"Then, sor," Terence Reardon replied respectfully, "I'll take it kindly av
you to tell him to keep out av me engine-room. I'll have no skipper
buttin' in on me, tellin' me how to run me engines an' askin' me why in
this an' that I don't go aisy on the coal. Faith, I've had thim do it--the
wanst--an' the wanst only. Begorra, I'd have brained thim wit' a monkey
wrench if they tried it a second time."
"On the other hand," Cappy remarked, "I've had to fire more than one
chief engineer who couldn't cure himself of a habit of coming up on the
bridge when the vessel got to port--to tell the skipper how to berth his
ship against a strong flood tide. I suppose that while we have
steamships the skippers will always wonder how the vessel can
possibly make steerage way, considering the chief engineers, while the
chiefs will never cease marvelling that such fine ships should be
entrusted to a lot of Johnny Know-Nothings. However, Reardon, I

might as well tell you that the Blue Star Navigation Company plays no
favorites. When the chief and the skipper begin to interfere with the
dividends, they look overside some bright day and see Alden P. Ricks
waiting for them on the cap of the wharf. And when the ship is
alongside, the said Ricks comes aboard with five bones in his pocket,
and the said skipper and the said chief are invited into the dining saloon
to roll the said bones--one flop and high man out. Yes, sir. Out! Out of
the ship and out of the Blue Star employ--for ever."
"I hear you, sor. I hearrd you the first time," Terence Reardon replied
complacently and reached for his pipe. "All I ask from you is a square
deal. I'll have it from the captain wit'out the askin'."
Thus the Reardon breathing his defiance.
"I'm glad we understand each other, chief. Just avoid arguments,
political or religious, and treat the skipper with courtesy. Then you'll
get along all right. Now with reference to your salary. The union scale
is one hundred and fifty dollars a month--"
"Beggin' yer pardon for the intherruption, sor, but the young man
promised me a hundhred an' siventy-five."
"That was before the Blue Star Navigation Company took over the
young man and his ship _Narcissus._ Hereafter you'll deal with the old
man in such matters. I'm going to give you two hundred a month,
Reardon, and you are to keep the Narcissus out of the shop. Hear me,
chief--out of the shop."
"No man can ordher me to do me djooty," said Terence Reardon simply.
"Tell the fine gintleman on the bridge to keep her out av the kelp, an'
faith, she'll shtay out av the shop. Thank you kindly, sor. When do I go
to wurrk?"
"Your pay started this morning. The Narcissus goes on Christy's ways
in Oakland Harbor at the tip of the flood this afternoon. Get on the ship
and stay on her. It's a day-and-night rush job to get her in commission,
and you'll be paid time and a half while she's repairing. Good-day and
good luck to you, chief. Come in and see me whenever you get to port."
And Cappy Ricks, most democratic of men, extended his hand to his
newest employee. Terence Reardon took it in his huge paw that would
never be clean any more, and held it for a moment, the while he looked
fearlessly into Cappy's eyes.
"'Tis a proud man I am to wurrk for you, sor," he said simply.