Mr. Schultz, the first assistant, and Mr. von Staden were engaged in
coffee and repartee when Terence Reardon thrust his head in at the
dining saloon window. He was mildly excited.
“Be the Great Gun av Athlone!” he declared. “I've just been bit be a
bedbug--an' I t'ought there wasn't a bedbug in the ship!”
Mr. Schultz looked up, horrified. “Chieve,” he said, “dot is rodden
news. Bedbugs! _Ach!_”
“An' well you may '_Ach_,' Misther Schultz. Let a colony av bedbugs move
into the _Narcissus_ an' Terence P. Reardon will move out. There's
only wan thing to do, Misther Schultz, an' that is to tackle the divils
before we're overwhelmed be the weight av numbers. Have ye a bit av
sulphur in yer shtore-room, Misther Schultz--the kind that comes in
balls an' is used to burrn in shtate-rooms to kill bedbugs?”
When Terence Reardon put that innocent query to the first mate he knew
very well Mr. Schultz would reply in the negative--which he did--for the
reason that Michael J. Murphy had privately informed Mr. Reardon
that the little cockney steward, Riggins, had charge of the bedbug
ammunition. Riggins, who had been standing with his back against the
wall, eyeing Mr. Schultz sourly, now spoke up and said he had some
sulphur.
“More power to ye, Riggins!” Mr. Reardon declared heartily. “Then do ye,
like the good lad, give me two or three balls av it. I'll burn them
in me shtate-room to-night, wit' the door an' window locked, an' be
morrnin' sorra bedbug will be left alive.”
“Very well, sir,” Riggins replied. “Might Hi arsk, Mr. Reardon, where
you hintend passin' the night?”
“I'll shleep in me auld aisy-chair abaft the house an' next the funnel,
where I'll be snug an' warrm,” Mr. Reardon replied, for he desired an
excuse to be on deck all night without arousing the suspicions of Mr.
Schultz or von Staden.
The steward, having finished serving those who ate in the dining saloon,
stepped out on deck and started for his own room. Mr. Reardon remained
by the window a minute, discoursing on the curse of bedbugs aboard a
ship, and then with a sigh followed the steward leisurely. Mr. Schultz
appeared undecided whether or not to accompany him in the capacity of
censor, but finally concluded to remain and finish his coffee, for if
Riggins had decided to enlighten the chief as to the real reason for the
skipper's indisposition he had had frequent opportunity to do so during
the past ten days. It did not seem likely, therefore, that he would run
any risks at this late date. To Mr. Schultz, Riggins appeared to be
a man who could be depended upon to remember which side his bread was
buttered on and who supplied the butter.
Arrived at the steward's state-room, Mr. Reardon helped himself to the
entire box of bedbug exterminator and addressed Riggins very briefly:
“Riggins, ye're a child av Johnny Bull, are ye not?”
Riggins, without the slightest trace of embarrassment, admitted his
disgrace.
“An' bein' what ye are,” Mr. Reardon continued, “would ye do somethin'
av great binifit to England?”
Riggins replied that inasmuch as he had lost two brothers at the Battle
of the Marne, that ought to indicate bally well where the Riggins tribe
stood on the subject of defense of the realm.
“Good!” Mr. Reardon murmured. “Even if misguided in their pathriotic
motives, shtill yer brothers were brave min, an' for that I respect
thim. Now, thin, Riggins, ye rabbit, listen to me: In a momint av
surpassin' innocince Captain Murphy an' mesilf swallowed a cute
suggestion from a lad whose back I'll break in two halves whin the
_Narcissus_ gets back to San Francisco. 'Why not save expinse,' says
he, 'an' ship the crew av this German liner that's interned over in
Richardson's Bay?' Riggins, to make a long shtory short, we have thim
this minute, an' the dear God knows that even if shipped at the
German scale av wages that gang'll prove a dear crew to the Blue Star
Navigation Company if you an' I, Riggins, fail to do our djooty. They've
half murdered the captain, shtolen the ship an' cargo from him, an' run
her t'ousands av miles off her course to deliver the coal to the German
fleet.”
“Oh, my bloody ol' Aunt Maria!” gasped the horrified Riggins.
“What I want to know from you, Riggins, is this: Will ye help me
shteal the ship back to-night? We're runnin' almost due south, an' that
good-for-nothin' von Staden has been in communication wit' the fleet all
day long. I feel it in me bones. If we get the ship back we'll head due
west for the coast av South America an' hug the three-mile limit-an' the
devil scoort them thin. Riggins, ye gossoon, what for the cause av Merry
England? They wouldn't take ye for a gift in the British Arrmy, for I
doubt if ye'd weigh ninety pounds soakin' wet an' a rock in yer hand,
but for all that, here's an iligant opporchunity for ye to serrve yer
counthry, an' should worrd av yer brave action reach the king--bad cess
to him--he may call ye Sir Thomas Riggins an' make ye consul-general av
the Cannibal Islands.
“Out wit' it, Riggins. Yer king an' counthry calls ye, an' be the same
token so do Michael J. Murphy an' Terence P. Reardon. What'll ye give,
Riggins, to preserve the seas to Britain?”
“Me 'eart's blood, that's wot!” Riggins replied quietly.
“I accept the sacrifice in the name av His Majesty, King Jarge! Be on
deck at ten o'clock sharp, waitin' close undher the shtarboard companion
leadin' to the bridge. Whin I come out on the shtarboard ind av the
bridge an' whistle 'O'Donnell Abu,' do ye--”
“S'help me, chief, I never 'eard of the blighter before,” Riggins
interrupted.
“God forgive me!” Mr. Reardon murmured _sotto voce_. “I'll have to do
it. Well, thin, Riggins, whin I come out on the shtarboard ind av the
bridge an' whistle 'God Save the King'--troth, I'll gamble that's one
blighter ye've hearrd tell av--do ye run up into the pilot-house an'
take the wheel. I'll not whistle until we have the deck to ourselves,
wit'out fear av intherruption, an' ye must come quick an' take the
wheel, else the vessel'll fall off into the trough av the sea an'
commince to wallow--which same'll wake up the second mate an' bring him
an' von Staden on deck to see what's wrong wit' her. An' until I'm ready
to call on those lads I'm not wishful to have them call on me! Remimber,
Riggins: Wan jump an' ye're into the pilot-house; then howld her head
up to the sea--an' lave the rest to me. Gwan wit' ye now, or that skut,
Schultz, will be gettin' suspicious av us.”
When Mr. Schultz came along ten minutes later he found Mr. Reardon very
busy calking with oakum the cracks round the door and window of his
state-room, through which little wisps of yellow smoke were curling.
Mr. Schultz was so completely deceived that he hurried round to his own
quarters and pawed over his own mattress and bedding in a vain search
for bedbugs.