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Updated: June 16, 2025
"'I believe, Father Corrigan, says my uncle, who loved to see the priest and the friar at it, 'that you've met with your match I think Father Rooney's able for you.
I should, however, explain that I, of course, was not familiar with all these nautical details then, only learning them later on, mainly through Tim Rooney's help, when my knowledge of ships and of sea terms became more extended.
This goes to explain why Cork McManus went into Rooney's one night and there looked upon the bright, stranger face of Romance for the first time in his precarious career. Until Tim Corrigan should return from his jaunt among Kings and Princes and hold up his big white finger in private offices, it was unsafe for Cork in any of the old haunts of his gang.
Of course the rescuers were more careful in approaching the swimmers after Rooney's misfortune, but in spite of this many of them were wounded by the pirates slashing at them with their swords and knives, or flinging these weapons violently into the boats. In a short time all were saved who yet remained above water.
The tobacco smoke grew denser, drifting and rising in spirals, waves, tilted layers, cumulus clouds, cataracts and suspended fogs like some fifth element created from the ribs of the ancient four. Laughter and chat grew louder, stimulated by Rooney's liquids and Rooney's gallant hospitality to Lady Nicotine. One o'clock struck. Down-stairs there was a sound of closing and locking doors.
Under the influence of this, even Rooney's good-nature had to some extent given way, and frequent disputes and semi-quarrels were the result. But these quarrels were always made up, and the two were soon as good friends as ever.
Meanwhile Rooney's wife went off to make arrangements for a long voyage, and a probably prolonged residence in foreign parts, and Joe Baldwin went to visit the well he had engaged to descend, taking Rooney as his assistant.
"Are you afraid you'll get a free ride?" "Nothin' doin' in the teeth-chatterin' line," said Cork. "I guess Rooney's been slow with his envelope. Don't you worry, girly; I'll look out for you all right." Yet Mr. McManus's ease was only skin- and muscle-deep.
It was now Tim Rooney's turn, the captain wheeling round on him as soon as he'd done with Matthews. "Really, bosun," he said, "I didn't think a respectable man like you would encourage two boys to fight like that!" "Bedad it wor ownly to privint their bein' onfrindly, sorr," pleaded Tim, looking as much ashamed as his comical twinkling left eye would permit.
Love one another. Piles of parchment. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of attorney. Goulding, Collis, Ward. But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Wonder how it first struck him. Sitting at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair. Rehearsing his band part. Pom. Pompedy. Jolly for the wife. Asses' skins.
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