And it did. Deputy-Chief Moran remained in his position; and through him it was announced to the “Jiggers” that a general amnesty had been declared, and that no “Jigger-jumper” would be punished for belonging to his “benevolent association” unless he tried to use his membership to intrigue for promotion, or allowed himself to be so used. That policy was in the end so successful that the “Jiggers” lost even their distinctive name; and the term “Jigger-jumper” is applied now, in department slang, to all “blue-shirts” who run at the call of that peremptory little bell to risk their lives and do their duty.
Ask them! Ask any of Keighley’s men. Ask “Shine.” “We’re all Jigger-jumpers,” he will tell you. “An’ it keeps us on the jump. On the jump! You bet.... There it goes again.... That’s in our—Seeyullater!” Then—as he hurries from the sitting room to the pier—you will see “Old Clinkers” issue from the office, with his coat on his arm, glance at the clock, flick you one keen look from a cold grey eye as he goes by, and clear his throat to call from the doorway, with all the confidence of unquestioned command, “All right, boys. Let her go!”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic spelling that may have been in use at the time of publication has been retained.