"Very well, Mr. MacLean," he said presently, "I never could sail in
the same ship with a quitter; so you might as well go now, when we can
part good friends." He turned to Mr. Murphy. "How about you, Mike?
Are you going to run out on me, too?"

Now, as between the Irish and the Scotch, history records no
preponderance of courage in either, for both are Gaels and a
comparison is difficult.

However, Scotchmen are a conservative race and will walk round a fight
rather than be forced into it, while all that is necessary to make an
Irishman fight is to impugn his courage.

Mr. Murphy had seen the fight ahead of the Retriever and he did not
blame Mr. MacLean for side-stepping it. Indeed, he had intended
pursuing the same course; but Matt Peasley, by his latest remark, had
rendered that impossible. To desert now would savor of dishonor; and,
moreover, Matt Peasley, though master, had called him by his Christian
name. Mr. Murphy touched his forelock respectfully.

"I am not Scotch," he announced, with a slight emphasis on the
pronoun. "Shame on you, Angus MacLean--ditching the skipper like
that!"

"Sticks an' stones may break ma bones, but names'll never hur-rt me,"
Mr. MacLean retorted. "I tell ye I dinna care for creosote in ma
porridge." And he followed Matt Peasley aft, where the latter paid
him off and gave him five minutes to pack and get off the ship.
Immediately after supper the cook followed the second mate; but, since
the former was a Jap and probably the worst marine cook in the world,