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Updated: June 15, 2025
'I'll remember that and the street and number. And some day I'll take a run down to Peru to Lima. "'Si, si fine cit-ee. And bull fight granda, señor, said the Chinaman, who, like Martin Jackson, had also a Spanish accent." The pump-man had come to a full stop. The third officer was standing near.
Eight bells had gone, the morning watch was done, it was almost time to eat, and so Kieran, the pump-man, laid aside the tools of his berth and came strolling aft; and swinging down the long gangway he sang: "There was a girl, I knew her well, a girl in Zanzibar A bulgeous man of science said you bet her avatar Was Egypt's Cleopatra and from off a man-o'-war I met her first and O, her eyes!
"Well, see that yer don't, yer cross-eyed whelps see that yer don't." "And do you mean to say, you collection of squashes, that you were laughing at me?" The pump-man, still grasping a wrench in each hand, started across the deck after them. "D'y' mean to " Down the gangway they retreated in a body. Noyes looked to the captain, but the captain was looking out over the ship's side.
The reorganized head clerk clicked his heels, wheeled, marched to his desk, and without delay signed John Kieran as pump-man for the Gulf voyage of the oil ship Rapidan. It lacked two minutes to sailing time, and the passenger was in the cabin mess-room, when he heard the exclamation. "Here he comes now." He looked through the air-port. Out on the deck was a huge fellow gazing up the dock.
Dreams dreams, always dreams, but you've had your hour, too. He took another look at the lights of the fleet another to the lights of the city below him 'Good night, Lima, he whispered, and dropped off the wall." The pump-man had begun his story this evening while sitting with back to the rail and feet stretched out on the deck before him.
Then he noted that Kieran had raised his hand and was addressing the crew. "Holdup! You said the fight would settle it. Mind your words now fair play for one against you all. Fair play, I say," and they might have scattered before this blazing, fighting pump-man in the full lust of his power but for the carpenter, who poised a hammer to throw. "What! you would!" yelled Kieran.
He was surely a big man; and under his thin sleeveless jersey, surely a solid man. And the pump-man, in his skimpy, badly-fitting dungarees, though of good height, did not look to be much more than half the other's bulk. "That same bosun's beat up more men than any shipping agency ever kept a record of. That's Big Bill. And if you'd ever travelled on oil-tankers, you'd 'a' heard of him.
"Who'm I? Who'm I? I'll show yer bloody well soon who I am." "Well, show me." "Show yer?" "Yes, you big sausage, show me." "Show yer? Show yer?" The big man peered around the ship. Surely it was a mirage. At the very first whoop from the big man the pump-man had stopped dead, softly set down his suit-case, and waited. Now he stepped swiftly toward the big man.
The ship rolled, the barge yawed, the reefs kept sliding by. The passenger stole a look at the pump-man, and ventured: "Kieran, there used to be, a few years ago, a sprinter, pole-vaulter, and jumper, competing under the name of Campbell in the Hibernian and Caledonian games up north, and you're a ringer for him." Kieran glanced sidewise at the passenger.
The pump-man had sympathy for Jenkins, but not so much that he would sit and listen while Jenkins talked himself to sleep; so, once he saw Jenkins into his bunk, Kieran used to fly for the open deck. And here it was the passenger joined him, pacing the long gangway. The passenger turned and they paced together. The sound of the captain's voice floated down from the bridge.
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