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Updated: June 27, 2025
On deck with your line now." "All right, Baldy." Harty turned to his working mate. "So long Pete, see you later." "So long, son, and have a care on that open deck." Harty climbed the iron ladder to the deck, shouldered his way through the wind-pressed door and onto the deck, and started aft. It was cold. Under his thin suit of dungaree Harty was rolling in sweat.
Harty, the telegraph editor, and Wilbur, the telegraph operator, rolled down their shirtsleeves and, taking their coats over their arms, departed in company for Tony's place up at the corner, where cool beers were to be found and electric fans, and a business men's lunch served at all hours. That left in the city room four or five men.
'Ah-h, dear Baldwin, you have time for the Port Light saloon, but not for your old frien'", and he shakes his old head. 'Please, do not fail, Cap-tan, on this Christmas Eve! he says to me. 'And Mr. Harty also. Come on now. Be good. 'Twarn't him didn't marry you, mind. Come on, Bud and forget it." "All right go ahead."
"But as for you," he gritted, "if I could only just one grip of your throat is all I'd ask for, and then, you dog!" Harty closed his wireless office and headed for the water-front. Near the shore-end of the breakwater he came to a halt. He could but dimly see the beginning of the outstretching wall of concrete, but plainly enough he could hear the combers thundering over the crest of it.
But he had a friend, recently detailed to the yard, and warmly recommended by the boson's mate, this friend Harty, chief wireless operator, soon came to be the most regular of all the Saturday night attendants at old Perrault's store. It was on Saturday nights that the unmarried foreman on the breakwater job came up to see old Perrault.
One might think that old Perrault, who so casually picked his company, was a careless sort of parent; but not so, as witness his questioning of Baldwin, when it began to dawn on him that this wireless operator was becoming a distinguished member of the Sunday afternoon parties; and the boson's mate, who revered old Perrault, but who also thought a lot of his friend Harty, spoke judiciously.
The two little islands of Elmley and Harty slept to the south-east, quietly and silently, like huge rush-nests floating on the waters.
They're there every night, goin' to their death somewhere out to sea, but how c'n we help it?" "We can help it." Harty stood up "Fine men we are, all of us." Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-tump-ti Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-tump-ti came from the piano. Harty whirled around. "And as for you!" He picked up the spare pack and hurled them at the fat piano-player. "Blast you! Yes, you I said you, didn't I shut up!
The crowd seems to be thickest just there: too many books, too many writers, and by far too many anxious aspirants. Why should I swell the number? The community was not especially pining to hear what I might have to say; and I did not pine so much as some to be heard." "I fear you lacked ambition, Harty. You would have made a pretty good preacher; but I suppose you weren't sanctified enough."
They've been tied up, just like you see 'em now stopped snug and neat between gaffs and booms for, oh, I dunno twenty years now, I reckon. I know I've yet to see 'em hoisted. But when'll I come and get you?" "I'll send word to the yard station by wireless, to Harty or whoever's on watch there, when we get it rigged." "All right. And say, a great thing that wireless, ain't it? Well, good luck."
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