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Updated: May 10, 2025
Look at the number of athletes who are carried away by it!" "God bless you, McTee!" "The strength that counts is the strength of spirit, and this girl has your own fighting spirit." "Do you think so?" "Yes; I saw it in her eyes." Henshaw shook his head sadly. "No; they're the eyes of her grandmother, and she had no fighting spirit. I think I married her more for pity than for love.
The Irishman, humming idly still, looked up, calmly surveyed the captain, and then went on as if he had heard merely empty wind instead of words. "After the scrubbing brush the shovel," went on McTee, but still Harrigan paid no attention. He rose when his task was completed and made his eyes gentle as if with pity while he gazed upon McTee.
If they did not actually lick their chops, there was hunger in their eyes and a strange wistfulness as they watched Harrigan strip off his shirt, but when they saw the wasted arms, lean, with the muscles defined and corded as if by famine, their faces went blank again. For they glanced in turn at the vast torso of McTee.
"Mutiny, bos'n," said McTee coldly. But the eye of Hovey was fully as cold; he knew his man. "Well?" he queried. "Talk ahead. I've given you my word to keep quiet." "Suppose this old man had a lot of money. Would it be any crime any great crime to slip a little of that long green into our pockets?"
"I'll kill you by inches, Harrigan. You'll read hell in my eyes before your end. Drink this!" He raised Harrigan's almost lifeless head and forced the neck of a whisky bottle between his teeth. "Ah-h!" said Harrigan, blinking and coughing after the strong liquor had burned its way down his throat. "The feel av your throat under me thumbs was sweeter than the touch av a colleen's hand, McTee!
It's overdue, that's what it is!" "Aye, aye!" came a chorus of yells from the sailors. "White Henshaw's overdue." "Look at this here water," went on Hovey, with a tempting wave of his hand. "Why not take this up an' help yourselves after you've given us Henshaw?" Sloan crowded in between Harrigan and McTee; his voice was a slavering murmur: "For pity's sake, boys, what we going to do?"
He would speak a curt farewell and step out of the lives of the two. It would be very simple unless McTee showed some exultation, but if he did Here Harrigan refused to think further. It was well after sunset when he crossed the veranda, and at the door he found McTee striding up and down. "Harrigan," said McTee. "Well?", growled Harrigan.
Hovey started back for the forecastle; he had much to say to the sailors, and thereafter life on the Heron would be equally dangerous for both Harrigan and McTee. The two, in the meantime, were making their way aft shoulder to shoulder. When they reached the stretch of deck behind the wireless house, McTee said: "Harrigan, what's it to be? Are you for fighting it out?"
It must be a grim thing to die alone at sea to slip into the black water to drink the salt a little struggle and then the light goes out. So!" He shivered and folded his arms. He seemed to be embracing himself to find warmth. "But to die in the middle of the ocean with many men around you," he went on, speaking half to himself, "that would not be so bad. What do you say, McTee?"
He pried open one of the shells and ate the contents hastily, keeping one eye askance against the return of McTee. "Maybe he's right about these shellfish," he pronounced judicially, "but it's a hard thing an' a dangerous thing to take the word of a man like McTee he's that hasty. We must go easy on believin' what he says, Kate."
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