“Are you a British or an American citizen?” asked Decatur.
“Amurican, sorr,” almost shouted Moriarity. “I and all me posterity was born in Ameriky, begorra, and I niver was in ould Oireland, God bless her!”
Decatur could scarcely keep his countenance, and the other officers were all seized at the same time with coughing spells.
“Who said anything about Ireland?” asked Lieutenant Lockyer sharply. “You are as Irish as potatoes, and you were never out of Ireland in your life until you enlisted on the Thunderer.”
“Bedad, sorr, I’d be proud to be an Oirishman,” responded Moriarity with a grin. “It’s not denyin’ of it I’d be, but me mother was of a noble Italian family, in rejuced circumstances, be the name of Murphy, and me father was a Spanish gintleman be the name of Moriarirty, and I was born in Ameriky, sorr, and pressed into the Thunderer”; and, turning to Decatur, he added, “And I claims the protection of the Amurican flag.”
Lockyer was silent with rage and chagrin, but Decatur spoke up with undisturbed blandness:
“You see, sir, how this matter stands. I must take this man’s word, and you are at liberty to keep the fellow that deserted from us. Your boat waits, and I have the honor to bid you good-evening.”
Lockyer, thus practically ordered off the ship, bowed slightly and walked rapidly down the ladder and got into his boat.
Scarcely had he pushed off when Captain Bainbridge’s boat appeared, and in a few minutes he stepped on deck.
“Anything happened, Mr. Decatur?” he asked, as soon as he caught sight of his young first lieutenant.