earth would have employed the third person singular when referring
to the absent Murphy; only an Irishman would have said "that fella,"
and only a certain kind of Irishman could have managed to inject
into such simple words such a note of scorn supernal. Cappy Ricks
got the message--just like that.

"Then stay off his bridge, Reardon," he warned the chief. "Your
job is in the engine-room, so even if you and Captain Murphy do
not like each other, there will be no excuse for friction. The only
communication you need have with him is through the engine-room
telegraph."

"Then, sor," Terence Reardon replied respectfully, "I'll take it
kindly av you to tell him to keep out av me engine-room. I'll have
no skipper buttin' in on me, tellin' me how to run me engines an'
askin' me why in this an' that I don't go aisy on the coal. Faith,
I've had thim do it--the wanst--an' the wanst only. Begorra, I'd
have brained thim wit' a monkey wrench if they tried it a second
time."

"On the other hand," Cappy remarked, "I've had to fire more than
one chief engineer who couldn't cure himself of a habit of coming
up on the bridge when the vessel got to port--to tell the skipper
how to berth his ship against a strong flood tide. I suppose
that while we have steamships the skippers will always wonder how
the vessel can possibly make steerage way, considering the chief
engineers, while the chiefs will never cease marvelling that such
fine ships should be entrusted to a lot of Johnny Know-Nothings.
However, Reardon, I might as well tell you that the Blue Star
Navigation Company plays no favorites. When the chief and the