“What d’ yeh mean by that now?” Noonan cried. “Talk straight fer once in yer life, will yeh?”
“I mean,” Keighley said, “that Jigger ner anti-Jigger makes no diff’rence to me. If a man does his work, I’ll stan’ by him. An’ if he don’t, I’ll pound him till he does. That’s the rule aboard this boat, an’ it al’ys will be.”
“Yeh’re makin’ a mistake,” Noonan warned him, “a big mistake.”
Keighley settled his collar. “Yuh better leave me to run me men in m’ own way. Mind your politics, an’ leave me to me fires. Yuh’re a good deal of a joke with a pipe yerself, Tim. Yuh’d better leave that to me.”
XVII
NOONAN said no more; and when the Hudson had tied up, he went ashore with a non-committal, “Well, s’long Dan” that expressed nothing but reserve. Keighley saw him go, and returned, relieved, to the work of having the Hudson made ready for her next run.
“They’re keepin’ us busy,” he said to Moore.
“They” were. In the space of three days, the boat had done duty at three fires; and the fire on the Sachsen, of the previous week, had been enough in itself to make the summer one that would be easily remembered. But now, as if to give the men a taste of both sorts of life in the department, the days that followed settled down into the dullest routine of barrack room inactivity. The jigger rang and rang again, but it never rang any of the lucky numbers that would give the Hudson exercise. “Nuthin’ but blanks,” “Shine” complained. “This’s worse ’n playin’ ‘policy.’ Gee, I wish we’d draw a number with a fire on it.”