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If you will put your hand in my right hip pocket, Terence, lad, you'll find a pair for present emergencies. They were in my desk and I concluded to bring them along." "An' a pious t'ought it was, Michael." So they handcuffed Herr August Carl von Staden and gagged him, after which Mr.
He believed that Reardon, like himself, was a prisoner; although, had the chief passed the window and had the captain observed his passing, the complacence of Herr von Staden and his patriotic company would have received a jar much earlier in the voyage.
Von Staden grunted once, the pistol dropped clattering to the deck and he folded up like an accordion. For him the battle was over. Not so, however, with Mike Murphy. Gone to the winds now was the caution he would have exercised had the attack been delayed two seconds longer; forgotten was the shrewd advice of his owners to have help standing by when the ship cleaning should commence.
"By four o'clock we'll be more than fifty miles off the course Schultz was holding her on," the captain suggested. "In all likelihood the German admiral wirelessed his last position and the course he was steering, and von Staden gave Schultz his course accordingly." "Faith, we're not a moment too soon at that," Mr. Reardon replied. "Schultz was lookin' for searchlights whin I tapped him.
So he kicked Herr von Staden again, after which a glimmer of reason penetrated his hot head and he walked to pick up the supercargo's automatic pistol. Then something landed on him from above and he went down backward. His head struck the deck with a resounding thump, and Michael J. Murphy had a through ticket to the Land of Nod and no stop-over privileges.
"The ship is headed due west undher full speed," Terence explained, "an' the mate, the quarter-master an' the look-out have all received evidence av me affectionate regard. Next!" "Von Staden. He kicked me and broke my ribs, Terence." "Wit' the greatest joy in life, Michael. The skut's busy in the wireless room." So they went to the wireless room.
Together they lifted Michael J. Murphy into a boson's chair, the jackies unslung a cargo derrick, Mr. Reardon went to the winch, and the skipper was hoisted overside into the Panther's boat and taken aboard the warship for medical attention. Just before Mr. Reardon hoisted him he drew the chief's ear down to his lips. "About von Staden," he whispered. "I thought I wanted to see him hung.
'Seelewig, by Sigmund Staden, which is described as a 'Gesangweis auf italienische Art gesetzet, was printed at Nuremberg in 1644, but there is no record of its ever having been performed. To Hamburg belongs the honour of establishing German opera upon a permanent basis.
Reardon picked him up and tucked him gently in his berth, for, as the chief remarked to him, he was as safe there as anywhere and far more comfortable, although Mike Murphy objected and was for putting him in the mate's store-room with von Staden, whom they had put in the dirtiest and most unwholesome spot aboard the Narcissus, for two reasons: In the first place, he had kicked Michael J. Murphy and shot him through the shoulder; and in the second place, he was the cleanest German and the most wholesome pirate they had ever seen, and they figured the contrast would annoy him.
While I decline to terminate the war between August Carl von Staden and Michael Joseph Murphy, nevertheless under the law you have just cited I believe I'm entitled to breakfast. I'm starved. I figured on having supper ashore last night, but after I received that cablegram from my owners I forgot all about food. Now I'm remembering.
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