"Is there one man among you who believes in God?"
They stared at one another in the consternation of utter hopelessness. Mulligan was the first to break the painful silence. He said, with a sad triumph:
"I knew it. Stung again! They'll do anything to get you to listen. We fell for it like boobs."
"What is that?" said Hendrik, sharply.
"I was sayin'," replied Mulligan, grateful that he was one schooner ahead, anyhow, "that I can listen to a good brother like you by the hour when I ain't thirsty. The dryness in my throat affects my hearin'. If you blow again I'll believe in miracles. How could I help it?"
Fourteen pairs of eyes turned hopefully toward the wonder-worker. But he said in the habitual tone of all born leaders:
"You—bums, get around! I'm going to lick hell out of Mulligan. And after that, to show I'm boss, I'll blow again. But first the licking."
Hendrik gave his hat to Fleming to hold and began to turn up his sleeves. But Mulligan hastily said, "I'm converted, boss!" and actually looked pious. How he did it, nobody could tell, for he was not a Methodist by birth or education.
"Mulligan, the union wages will be forty schooners a day." Hendrik said, sternly. Again it was genius—that is, to talk so that men will understand you.
"Kill the scabs!" shrieked Mulligan, and there was murder in his eyes.