“Well, sor,” Mr. Reardon replied in his deep Kerry brogue, “ye might call it that for lack of somethin' more expressive. I've just fired the chief engineer o' the Tillicum.”
“Mr. Denicke? Why, Terry, he's a first-rate engineer. I'm amazed. He was with us ten years before you entered the employ—worked up from oiler; in fact, I must have an explanation of your action in this case, Terence.”
“He called the President a nut. I fired him for that. Then he said the Kaiser was the greatest single force for civilization that ever was, an' wit' that I gave him a lift under the lug an' we wint at it. He's in the Harbor Receivin' Hospital this minute, an' I'm here to tell ye, sor, wit' all respect, that if ye don't like the way I've treated that Dutchman ye can get yerself a new port ingineer, for I'll quit, an' that's somethin' I'm not wishful to do.”
Quite calmly Cappy Ricks pressed the buzzer on his desk. The cashier of the Blue Star Navigation Company entered. “Son,” said Cappy, “hereafter, when making out Mr. Reardon's pay check, tack onto it twenty-five dollars extra each month. That is all.”
“Thank you, sor,” murmured Mr. Reardon, quite overcome.
“Get out!” cried Cappy. “You're a vision of sudden death. Go wash yourself.”
As Mr. Reardon took his departure Cappy sighed. “If Skinner only had a set of works like that port engineer!” he murmured. “If he only had!”