Part 21 (1/2)

So he was humming a rollicking tune when he reached the fireroom. It was stifling hot, to be sure, but it was twice as large as that of the Mary Rogers. The firemen were all glistening with sweat. One of them, larger than the rest and with a bristling, s...o...b..ush mustache like a sign of authority, said to the newcomer: ”You're Harrigan?”

He nodded.

”The chief wants to see you, boss, before you start swingin' the shovel.”

”Where's the chief's cabin?”

”Take him up, Alex,” directed the big fireman, and Harrigan followed one of the men up the narrow ladder and then aft. He was grateful for this light respite from the heat of the hole, but his joy faded when the man opened a door and he stood at last before the chief, Douglas Campbell, who looked up at the burly Irishman in a long silence.

The scion of the ancient and glorious clan of the Campbells had fallen far indeed. His face was a brilliant red, and the nose, comically swollen at the end, was crossed with many blue veins. Like Milton's _Satan_, however, he retained some traces of his original brightness.

Harrigan knew at once that the chief engineer was fully worthy of joining those rulers of the south seas and harriers of weaker men, McTee and White Henshaw.

”Stand straight and look me in the eye,” said Campbell, and in his voice was a slight ”bur-r-r” of the Scotch accent.

Harrigan jerked back his shoulders and stood like a soldier at attention.

”A drinkin' man,” he was saying to himself, ”may be hard an' fallen low, but he's sure to have a heart.”

”So you're the mutineer, my fine buck?”

Harrigan hesitated, and this seemed to infuriate Campbell, who banged a brawny fist on a table and thundered: ”Answer me, or I'll skin your worthless carca.s.s!”

The cold, blue eyes of Harrigan did not falter. They studied the face of the Campbell as a fighter gauges his opponent.

”If I say 'yes,'” he responded at length, ”it's as good as puttin'

myself in chains; if I say 'no,' you'll be thinkin' I'm givin' in, you an' McTee, d.a.m.n his eyes!”

Campbell grew still redder.

”You d.a.m.n him, do you? McTee is Scotch; he's a gentleman too good to be named by swine!”

The irrepressible Harrigan replied: ”He's enough to make swine speak!”

Amazement and then a gleam of laughter shone in the eyes of the chief engineer. He was seized, apparently, by a fit of violent coughing and had to turn away, hiding his face with his hand. When he faced the Irishman again, his jaw was set hard, but his eyes were moist.

”Look me in the eye, laddie. Men say a good many things about me; they call me a slave driver and worse. Why? Because when I say 'move,' my men have to jump. I've asked you a question, and I'm going to get an answer. Are you a mutineer or not?”

”I will not pleasure McTee by sayin' I'm not!”

The ponderous hand rose over the table, but it was checked before it fell.

”What the devil has McTee to do with this?” he bellowed.

”He's the one that sent me here.” Harrigan was thinking fast as he went on: ”And you're going to keep me here for the sake of McTee.”

Campbell changed from red to purple and exploded: ”I'll keep no man here to please another; not White Henshaw himself. He rules on deck, and I rule below. D'you hear? Tell me you're a liar! Speak up!”

”You're a liar,” said Harrigan instantly.

The engineer's mouth opened and closed twice while he stared at Harrigan.