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Mudge and his companions at the other end of the island. "Oi, oi!" wailed Ikey Rosenmeyer, meeting the older boys. "Such a time! I swallowed enough salt water to make me a pickled herring yet!" Ikey could not get away from memories of the delicatessen shop. "By St.
Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!" gasped Frenchy, "he ain't there no more." "You poor fish!" ejaculated Al in disgust, "you scared him off with your squealing. Who do you suppose he was?" "And what is he doing over there?" added Ikey Rosenmeyer. "Funny thing," observed Whistler. "Must be something important up on that dam he was looking at through his glasses."
The cabin was ten feet square, built of heavy logs, and as Whistler had been told, had no window openings. The door of heavy planks was fastened by a huge hasp held in place by the padlock mentioned so particularly by Ikey Rosenmeyer. "I guess we can't get into it without tools," said the ensign. "I don't suppose so, sir. But see that pole on top of the cabin?
"And be sure you bring along your submarine tackle I mean your bass rod," and he rolled out of the store, chuckling to himself. "Undt take a lunch, Ikey!" cried Mr. Rosenmeyer after his son. "Ham, undt bologna, undt cheese, undt there's some fine dill pickles " "Oh, my!" groaned his son. "No dill pickles."
"Wow! And he is right," cried Frenchy Donahue. "That's just what our Colodia is." "And these subchasers are still faster," Torry observed. "They tell me they can make thirty-five, and better, an hour." "Oi, oi!" cried Ikey Rosenmeyer at this juncture. "Speak of the Old Harry and hear his wings, yet! What's that off yonder?"
They were supplied with slickers, and they had been wet many a time before. Frenchy Donahue raised his shrill voice in the old dirge: "Aren't you glad you're a Navy man? Oh, mother!" and had not intoned the first lachrymose verse through to the end before Ikey Rosenmeyer interrupted with a shout: "Look there! She's broke loose! Hey, fellers! don't you see it?"
Philip Morgan, Alfred Torrance, Michael Donahue, Ikey Rosenmeyer, and their mates on the destroyer Colodia had already aided in convoying a large number of troop ships across the Atlantic, had chased submarines and destroyed at least one of the enemy U-boats, and had hunted for and captured the German raider, Graf von Posen, which had among the other loot in her hold the treasure of the Borgias which had been purchased from an Italian nobleman by the four Navy boys' very good friend, Mr.
Beyond that was the Donahue home, where Frenchy's widowed mother lived with his younger brothers and sisters. Then came the Rosenmeyer delicatessen shop, and there the car was pulled down by Torry, for there was a little group outside the shop, the center of which were three figures in blue. "Look at those happy Jacks, will you?" ejaculated Torry in feigned disgust. "Got an audience, haven't they?
Rosenmeyer had become as thoroughly patriotic as he once had been pro-German. It was a great cross to him now that he could not learn to speak English properly. But German names he abhorred and German signs he would no longer allow in the store. He even put a newly-printed sign over the sauerkraut barrel which read: "Liberty Cabbage."
They had to cross the railroad tracks to get into the Elmvale road. "Stop for nothing!" exclaimed Phil Morgan. "I feel that we can't delay a minute." But as it chanced Michael Donahue was standing at the open door of the Rosenmeyer delicatessen shop as the Torrance car wheeled around the corner into Seacove's main street.
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