Part 20 (2/2)
”Couldn't you see her face? It was written there as plain as print.”
McTee cleared his throat.
”What was written there?”
”The thing you want to see. When she took my hand in both of hers--”
”h.e.l.l!”
”Ah-h, man, it was wonderful! The scrubbing brush an' the shovel--they mean nothin' to me now.”
”Harrigan, you're lying.”
The latter dropped his scrubbing brush into the bucket of suds and stood with arms akimbo studying the captain.
”For a smart man, McTee, you've been a fool. I could of gone down on me knees an' begged to do what you've done. Don't you see? You've thrown her with her will or against it into me arms. I'm poor Harrigan, brave and downtrodden; you're Black McTee once more, the tyrant. She looks sick at the mention of your name.”
”I never dreamed you'd go whining to her. I thought you were a man; you're only a spineless dog, Harrigan!”
”Am I that? She pities me, McTee, an' from pity it's only one step to something bigger. Can you trust me to lead her that one step? You can!”
”If I went to her and told her how you boasted of having won her?”
”She wouldn't believe what you said about me if you swore it with both hands on the Bible. Be wise, McTee. Give up the game. You've lost her, me boy! For every day that I work in the fireroom I'll come to her an'
show her the palms of me bleedin' hands an' mention your name. An' for every day I work in the hole the hate of you will burn blacker into her heart.”
”I'd rather have her hate than her pity.”
”You'll have both; her hate for torturin' Harrigan; her pity for lettin' the devil in you get the best of the man. You're done for, McTee.”
Each one of the short phrases was like a whip flicked across the face of McTee, but he would not wince.
”You've said enough. Now get down to the fireroom. I've had Henshaw prepare the chief engineer for your coming.”
Harrigan turned.
”Wait! Remember when you're in h.e.l.l that the old compact still holds.
Your hand in mine and a promise to be my man will end the war.”
Only the low laughter of the Irishman answered as he made his way down to the deck.
CHAPTER 18
”There's times for truth an' there's times for lying,” murmured Harrigan, as he stowed away the bucket and brush and started down for the fireroom, ”an' this was one of the times for lyin'. He's sick for the love of her, an' he's hatin' the thought of Harrigan.”
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