“Well, I'll speak to the fellow for you, Noah,” McBride suggested, and darted out of the cabin to interview the said Murphy. Two minutes later he was back.
“Sorry, Noah, but Murphy says he wouldn't sign up for a trip to Cape Town at chief mate's wages.”
“I'm sorry, too, Mac,” Captain Noah answered resignedly. “I'm sorry you're such a liar. My grief is only compensated by the knowledge that Murphy is not aboard the Nokomis at this minute, and, if you did any talking while you were out on deck a minute ago you must have talked to yourself. Do I get this man, Murphy and thus save the Blue Star Navigation Company five hundred dollars or must I wire Cappy Ricks to wire you to do your duty by the company?”
“You infernal thief,” shouted McBride, “you're taking the best second mate I've had in years.”
“Never mind that. Do I get Mike Murphy peaceably or—”
“You've got him already” McBride charged.
“You're better at telling the truth than you are at lying, Angus McBride. You'll have plenty of time to get a second mate while the Nokomis is loading, and you can send the bill for his railroad fare to Cappy Ricks and tell him to charge it to the Retriever.”
McBride tried to appear aggrieved, but failed. He burst out laughing, and reached for the locker in which he kept the schooner's supply of grog.
“Would it was prussic acid,” he growled.
“Don't say I went behind your back and stole your mate,” Kendall retorted. “And if your second mate is as poor as your whiskey,” he added, piling insult on to injury, “you can have him back when I return from Cape Town.”