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Updated: May 17, 2025
Rosenmeyer had been a stern parent, and had opposed Ikey's desire to enlist in the Navy. He always declared he needed the boy to help in the store and to take out orders. Ikey had got so that he fairly hated the store and its stock in trade. Pigs feet and sauerkraut and dill pickles were the bane of his life. Now that he was at home on leave, Mr.
But Ikey continued to raise his head now and then to listen to the "tick-tock" sound. It puzzled him, and he determined to tell Whistler about it. Their work was completed at length, and Frenchy crept out into the passage to look about. There was nobody in this part of the ship save themselves. The two mischievous youths tugged the result of their labor out to the ash-chute.
"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."
"Who is or who was the hooded woman with the owl? Do you know?" "Well!" said Ikey, holding up his cap with one hand while he scratched his head with the other, "they say, in general, that she was murdered, and the howl he 'ooted the while."
"Say, Mister," asked Whistler, turning to the skipper of the smack, "is there a tank ship in here?" "An oil tanker? No! Nothing like it." "I smell it, too!" exclaimed Ikey suddenly. "What you boys smell is the Sarah Coville that came in just ahead of us. She's anchored here somewhere," said the fisherman. "What sort is she?" Whistler demanded.
"Old Finklebaum said he was just plumb ruined. He said he'd snatch Ikey bald-headed, and do a lot of other things to him, if he didn't walk right out into State street and bring back that Little Brass God. Holy Moses! You ought to have seen how scared Little Ikey was!" "Could he describe the man who bought the Little Brass God?" inquired George in a tone intended to be indifferent.
However, they could not start off alone to hunt for Michael Donahue and Ikey Rosenmeyer. They were just as much under Mr. MacMasters' orders ashore as they were at sea. They had confidence in the ensign's judgment, too. They believed he would make a search for the rest of their party just as soon as it was practicable.
How about it, Whistler?" "Just the thing," agreed Morgan, nodding his head emphatically. Ikey ran down the alley beside the restaurant while his mates waited at the corner. The side door was not used save by the restaurant help; but Ikey insinuated himself in by that entrance and in half a minute poked his head out of the door again and beckoned furiously to the other boys.
The Secret Service men are unearthing them all the time." "Well," sighed Ikey, "I only hope we'll catch up with this oil tub we're hunting just as she is unloading her cargo onto a sub. Then! Blooey! We'll drop a depth bomb or two, and settle Mr. Submarine." "Just like that!" drawled Whistler. "It sounds easy. How many times did the Colodia chase a U-boat and lose it?"
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