Adventure, November 1915 — page 194: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

192 and the mess-room lad, waiting with expect- ant countenances for further disclosures. “Come on over here, Sammy. I’ve a notion I’d like to shpake to you in private without bein’ overheard by all the riffraff on the water-front.” He swung around on his heel and made once more for the other side of the deck. ‘ “Well,” said Mr. Higgins, “what is it now?” Mr. Sullivan grasped him by the arm. “Have ye given a thought to what you an’ me must be doin’ today, Sammy? Have ye discovered a way of raisin’ the money?” “What money?” said Mr. Higgins. “Why, to buy the chief back his canary, of course! Have ye forgotten so soon? Sammy, me brain’s as bare as an empty egg-shell. Don’t be tellin’ me that you’ve not been thinkin’ how we’re to get that money!”’ Mr. Higgins wrinkled his nose. “No,” saidhe. “I’venot. What’s more, I don’t want to. —— the chief! So there! Sayin’ the cat et his bird!” The mate gazed at him with an expres- sion of dawning horror. It Occurred to him then with a feeling of cold despair that the second engineer’s remorse of the night before had vanished. “Sure, an’ ye mustn’t blame the man for that!” he said. ‘“He’s afther worryin’ over the loss of his bird till he’s not responsible for what he says.” “Tt was only a miracle that we got fifteen dollars yesterday,’ said Mr. Higgins, ‘‘an’ miracles don’t happen every day of the week. I’ve a headache still, an’—an’ I’d give a good deal for a drink, Dan. I would SO. “There’s not wan single, blissed way I can think of for raisin’ five dollars, let alone fifteen,” said Mr. Sullivan. “I was countin’ on you. An’ Sam, it’s our duty to git back his bird for him; it is, really an’ thruly. »? “We'd best try an’ forget that it ever happened,” said Mr. Higgins philosophi- cally. ‘‘What is, is; an’ you can’t alter it. That’s how J always look at things, any- way.” Mr. Sullivan gave a deep sigh. “T’ve a letther to write,” said he. be I’ll think out a way yit.” And still hoping against hope, Mr. Sulli- van slouched off, his hands in his pockets and his head sunk on his chest. *“Meb- Adventure _ An hour later, having ruined three sheets of paper and spilled the ink on the floor, he threw down his pen in disgust. The thought that he was to go back on his sworn oath filled him with anger and contempt. He rose to his feet, lit his pipe, and stepped out on to the deck. Mr. Brandon, heavy-eyed and _ pink- nosed, leaned over the rail and stared at the oily waters of the dock, sucking the while at the stub of an old cigar. Mr. Sullivan drifted, across the deck and stood by his side. “Chief,” said he; it's sorry I am to hear o’ ye losin’ yer bird.” The chief nodded. “The finest little bird you ever saw, Mr. Sullivan; more like a human bein’ than a bird. Many’s the time—’ He stopped and pulled his straggling mustache. ‘You mark my words! If I ketch that cat around the mess-room again I’ll ’eave it over the side. Dickie’s dead, an’ I don’t care what they say. I’m no fool, Mr. Sullivan. That murderin’ thief of a cat et ’im up. An’, Mr. Sullivan, I’m a poor man, but I'd give a good deal of money to ’ave Dickie back again.” Mr. Sullivan cleared his throat and his eyes narrowed. He had sworn that the chief should have his bird back before nightfall, and there had come into his head an idea so'tremendous that he quivered at the mere thought of it. He had discovered the one way in which he could make amends. “Chief,”’ said he, ‘couldn’t—couldn’t ye git howld of a bird to take Dickie’s placer Wan like it! Sure, all canary birds is alike in their main characteristics.” . The chief engineer of the Yarmouth gave a laugh full of contempt. “To a man who "as made a study of canary birds, as I ’ave, that’s nothin’ but sheer downright foolishness. Canaries, let me tell you, are as diff’rent from each other as—as cats, or chickens. Where could I find a bird out here like Dickie? A prize bird! In the past week, Mr. Sullivan, I have visited every single bird fancier’s in San Francisco, just out of curiosity, an’ there isn’t one—no, not one—that has a bird for sale one-tenth as good as Dickie. There isn’t one in the ’ole state of Cali- fornia.”’ , “Chief,” said Mr. Sullivan, ‘“‘you’re wrong. I know where there’s the livin’ spit of yer canary what’s losht. So like COMME OOOKS (E@)