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Updated: June 25, 2025
'First, because he's a Englisher, and second, because he's up again a American and besides, he has a tooth that's bucked. "'Buck or no buck, flares out Strokher, 'wot might be the meanin' o' that remark consernin' being a Englisher? "'The fact o' his bein' English, says Hardenberg, 'is only half the hoe-handle. 'Tother half being the fact that the first-named gent is all American.
"Fin'ly comes the last talky-talk an' we're to sail away next day an' mebbee snatch the little Joker through or be took an' hung by the Costa Guardas. "An' 'Good-by, says Hardenberg to Esperanza, in a faintin', die-away voice like a kitten with a cold. 'An' ain't we goin' to meet no more? "'I sure hopes as much, puts in Strokher, smirkin' so's you'd think he was a he-milliner sellin' a bonnet.
Then after a long time the noise by degrees wore down; a long silence followed. The hut seemed deserted; nothing stirred; another hour went by. Then at length Strokher saw a figure emerge from the door of the hut and come down to the shore. It was Hardenberg.
Coming on deck upon the morning of the Bertha's first day in this new region, Ally Bazan gazed open-mouthed. Then: "I s'y!" he yelled. "Hey! By crickey! Look!" He slapped his thighs. "S'trewth! This is 'eavenly." Strokher was smoking his pipe on the hatch combings. "Rather," he observed. "An' I put it to you we've deserved it." In the main, however, the northward flitting was uneventful.
"'Wot! cries Hardenberg, sort of mystified, 'Oh, I'm sure a-dreamin'! he says, just that silly-like. "'An' the mugs we've got! says Strokher. "An' they both sets to swearin' and cussin' to beat all I ever heard. "'I can't let her see me so bunged up, says Hardenberg, doleful-like, 'Oh, whatever is to be done? "'An' I look like a real genuine blown-in-the-bottle pug, whimpers Strokher.
It's agin human nature." "You can do time in San Quentin, then, for felony," retorted Strokher as he and Hardenberg dashed by him, their arms full of the skins. "You can do time in San Quentin else. Make your choice. I put it to you as between man and man." With set teeth, and ever and again glancing over the rail at the oncoming boat, the two fed their fortune to the fire.
We had never a mishap from the time we finally swung her about; and, considering the circumstances, the voyage back to San Francisco was propitious. But an incident happened just after we had started back. We were perhaps some five miles on the homeward track. It was early evening and Strokher had the watch. At about seven o'clock he called me up on the bridge. "See her?" he said.
"'It's double or nothing, says Hardenberg, who is somethin' o' a card sharp, 'for either you or me, Stroke; an' if you're agreeable I'll play you a round o' jacks for the chance at the Signorita the loser to pull out o' the running for good an' all. "No, Strokher don't come in on no such game, he says. He wins her, he says, as a man, and not as no poker player.
Certain of them spoke a macerated English, and through these Hardenberg, Ally Bazan and Nickerson Strokher remained on board to look after the schooner told to the "Boomskys" a lamentable tale of the reported wreck of a vessel, described by Hardenberg, with laborious precision, as a steam whaler from San Francisco the Tiber by name, bark-rigged, seven hundred tons burden, Captain Henry Ward Beecher, mate Mr.
If Paa was to be fought for, Hardenberg, backed by Strokher and Ally Bazan, was the man of all men for the job, for it looked as though Ryder would not get the Island of Paa without a fight after all, and nitrate beds were worth fighting for. "You see, boys, it's this way," Ryder explained to the three as they sat around the spavined table in the grimy back room of Ryder's "office."
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