So he was humming a rollicking tune when he reached the fireroom. It was stifling hot, to be sure, but it was twice as large as that of the Mary Rogers. The firemen were all glistening with sweat. One of them, larger than the rest and with a bristling, s...o...b..ush mustache like a sign of authority, said to the newcomer: "You're Harrigan?"

He nodded.

"The chief wants to see you, boss, before you start swingin' the shovel."

"Where's the chief's cabin?"

"Take him up, Alex," directed the big fireman, and Harrigan followed one of the men up the narrow ladder and then aft. He was grateful for this light respite from the heat of the hole, but his joy faded when the man opened a door and he stood at last before the chief, Douglas Campbell, who looked up at the burly Irishman in a long silence.

The scion of the ancient and glorious clan of the Campbells had fallen far indeed. His face was a brilliant red, and the nose, comically swollen at the end, was crossed with many blue veins. Like Milton's _Satan_, however, he retained some traces of his original brightness.

Harrigan knew at once that the chief engineer was fully worthy of joining those rulers of the south seas and harriers of weaker men, McTee and White Henshaw.

"Stand straight and look me in the eye," said Campbell, and in his voice was a slight "bur-r-r" of the Scotch accent.

Harrigan jerked back his shoulders and stood like a soldier at attention.

"A drinkin' man," he was saying to himself, "may be hard an' fallen low, but he's sure to have a heart."

"So you're the mutineer, my fine buck?"

Harrigan hesitated, and this seemed to infuriate Campbell, who banged a brawny fist on a table and thundered: "Answer me, or I'll skin your worthless carca.s.s!"

The cold, blue eyes of Harrigan did not falter. They studied the face of the Campbell as a fighter gauges his opponent.

"If I say 'yes,'" he responded at length, "it's as good as puttin'

myself in chains; if I say 'no,' you'll be thinkin' I'm givin' in, you an' McTee, d.a.m.n his eyes!"

Campbell grew still redder.

"You d.a.m.n him, do you? McTee is Scotch; he's a gentleman too good to be named by swine!"

The irrepressible Harrigan replied: "He's enough to make swine speak!"

Amazement and then a gleam of laughter shone in the eyes of the chief engineer. He was seized, apparently, by a fit of violent coughing and had to turn away, hiding his face with his hand. When he faced the Irishman again, his jaw was set hard, but his eyes were moist.

"Look me in the eye, laddie. Men say a good many things about me; they call me a slave driver and worse. Why? Because when I say 'move,' my men have to jump. I've asked you a question, and I'm going to get an answer. Are you a mutineer or not?"

"I will not pleasure McTee by sayin' I'm not!"

The ponderous hand rose over the table, but it was checked before it fell.

"What the devil has McTee to do with this?" he bellowed.

"He's the one that sent me here." Harrigan was thinking fast as he went on: "And you're going to keep me here for the sake of McTee."

Campbell changed from red to purple and exploded: "I'll keep no man here to please another; not White Henshaw himself. He rules on deck, and I rule below. D'you hear? Tell me you're a liar! Speak up!"

"You're a liar," said Harrigan instantly.

The engineer's mouth opened and closed twice while he stared at Harrigan.

"Get out!" he shouted, springing to his feet. "I'll have you boxed up and sweated; I'll have you pounded to a pulp! Wait! Stay here! I'll bring in some men!"

Harrigan was desperate. He knew that what he had said was equivalent to a mutiny. He threw caution to the wind. Campbell had rung a bell.

"Bring your men an' be d.a.m.ned!" he answered; and now his head tilted back and he set his shoulders to the wall. "I'll be afther lickin' your whole crew! A man do ye call yourself? Ah-h, ye're not fit to be lickin' the boots ay a man! Slave driver? No, ye're an overseer, an'

Henshaw kicks you an' you pa.s.s the kick along. But lay a hand on Harrigan, an' he'll tear the rotten head off your shoulders!"

The door flew open, and the second a.s.sistant engineer, a burly man, with two or three others, appeared at the entrance, drawn by the furious clamor of the bell.

"What--" began the second a.s.sistant, and then stopped as he caught sight of Harrigan against the wall with his hands poised, ready for the first attack.

"Who called you?" roared Campbell.

"Your bell--" began the a.s.sistant.

"You lie! Get out! I was telling a joke to my old friend Harrigan.

Maybe I leaned back against the bell. Shake hands with Harrigan. I've known him for years."

Incredulous, Harrigan lowered his clenched fist and relaxed it to meet the hesitant hand of the a.s.sistant.

"Now be off," growled the chief, and the others fled.

As the door closed, Harrigan turned in stupid amazement upon the Scotchman. The latter had dropped into his chair again and now looked at Harrigan with twinkling eyes.

"You'd have fought 'em all, eh, lad?"

He burst into heavy laughter.

"Ah, the blue devil that came in your eyes! Why did I not let them have one whirl at you? Ha, ha, ha!"

"Wake me up," muttered Harrigan. "I'm dreamin'!"

"There's a thick lie in my throat," said Campbell. "I must wash it out and leave a truth there!"

He opened a small cupboard, exposing a formidable array of black and green bottles. One of the black he pulled down, as well as two small gla.s.ses, which he filled to the brim.

"To your bonny blue eyes, lad!" he said, and raised a gla.s.s. "Here's an end to the mutiny--and a drop to our old friendship!"

Harrigan, still with clouded mind, raised the gla.s.s and drank. It was a fine sherry wine.

"How old would you say that wine was?" queried the Scotchman with exaggerated carelessness.

The carelessness did not deceive Harrigan. His mind went blanker still, for he knew little about good wines.

"Well?" asked the engineer.

"H-m!" muttered Harrigan, and racked his brain to remember the ages at which a good vintage becomes a rare old wine. "About thirty-five years."