McTee ground his teeth with rage and turned his back on the worker for a moment until he could master the contorted muscles of his face.

"Tut, McTee," went on the Irishman, "you've but felt the tickle of the spur; when I drive it in, you'll yell like a whipped kid. Always you play into me hands, McTee. Now when you see Kate, you'll feel me grin in the background mockin' ye, eh?"

The banter gave the captain a shrewd inspiration. He leaned, and catching one of Harrigan's hands with a quick movement, turned it palm up. It was as he suspected; the palm, though red from the effect of the strong suds and still scarcely healed after the torment of the _Mary Rogers_, was nevertheless manifestly unharmed by the labor which it was supposed Harrigan had performed the day before. The hand was wrenched away and a balled fist held under McTee's nose.

"If you're curious, Angus, look at me knuckles, not me palm. It's the knuckles you'll feel the most, cap'n."

CHAPTER 22

But McTee, deep in thought, was walking from the bridge. He went straight to the hole of the ship and questioned some of the firemen, and they told him that Harrigan had done no work pa.s.sing coal the day before; Campbell, it appeared, had taken him for some special job. With this tidings the Scotchman hastened back to Henshaw.

"The game's slipping through our hands, captain," he said.

"Harrigan?" queried Henshaw.

"Aye. He didn't pa.s.s a shovelful of coal in the hole yesterday."

"Tut, tut," answered the other with a wave of the hand. "I sent orders to Campbell, and told him what sort of a man he could expect to find in Harrigan."

"I've just talked to the firemen. They say that Harrigan didn't handle a single pound of coal. That ought to be final."

Henshaw went black.

"It may be so. I've given more rope to old Campbell than to any man that ever sailed the seas with White Henshaw, and it may be he's using the rope now to hang himself. We'll find out, McTee; we'll find out!

Where's Harrigan now?"

"Gone below a while ago after he finished scrubbing down the bridge."

"We'll speak with Douglas. Come along, McTee. There's nothing like discipline on the high seas."

He went below, murmuring to himself, with McTee close behind him.

Strange sounds were coming from the room of the chief engineer, sounds which seemed much like the strumming of a guitar.

"He's playing his songs," grinned Henshaw, and he chuckled noiselessly.

"Listen! We'll give him something to sing about--and it'll be in another key. Ha-ha!"

He tasted the results of his disciplining already, but just as he placed his hand on the k.n.o.b of the door, another sound checked him and made him turn with a puzzled frown toward McTee. It was a ringing baritone voice which rose in an Irish love song.

"What the devil--" began Henshaw.

"You're right," nodded McTee. "It's the devil--Harrigan. Open the door!"

The captain flung it open, and they discovered the two worthies seated at ease with a black bottle and two gla.s.ses at hand. Campbell, in the manner of a musical critic of some skill, leaned back in a chair with his brawny arms folded behind his head and his eyes half closed.

Harrigan, tilted back in a chair, rested his feet on the edge of a small table and swept the guitar which lay on his lap. In the midst of a high note he saw the ominous pair standing in the door, and the music died abruptly on his lips.

He rose to his feet and nudged Campbell at the same time. The latter opened his eyes and, glimpsing the unwelcome visitors, sprang up, gasping, stammering.

"What? Come in! Don't be standing there, Cap'n Henshaw. Come in and sit down!"

In spite of his bl.u.s.ter his red face was growing blotched with patches of gray. Harrigan, less moved than any of the others, calmly replaced the guitar in its green cloth case.

"I sent this fellow down to be put at hard work," said Henshaw, and waited.

It was obvious to Harrigan that the chief engineer was in mortal fear.

He himself felt strangely ill at ease as he looked at White Henshaw with his skin yellow as Egyptian papyrus from a tomb.

"Just a minute, captain," began the engineer. "You sent Harrigan down to the hole because he's considered a hard man to handle, eh?"

Henshaw waited for a fuller explanation; he seemed to be enjoying the distress of Campbell.

"Just so," went on the Scotchman, "but there are two ways of handling a difficult sailor. One is by using the club and the other by using kindness. The club has been tried and hasn't worked very well with Harrigan. I decided to take a hand with kindness. The results have been excellent. I was just about--"

His voice died away, for McTee was chuckling in a deep ba.s.s rumble, and Henshaw was smiling in a way that boded no good.

The captain broke in coldly: "I've heard enough of your explanation, Campbell. Send Harrigan down to the hole at once. We'll work him a double shift today, for a starter."

Campbell was trembling like a self-conscious girl, for he was drawn between shame and dread of the captain.

"Look!" he cried, and taking the hand of Harrigan, he turned it palm up. "This chap has been brutally treated. He's been at work that fairly tore the skin from the palms of his hands. One hour's work with a shovel, captain, would make Harrigan useless at any sort of a job for a month."

"Which goes to show," said McTee, "that you don't know Harrigan."

"I've heard what you have to say," said Henshaw. "I sent him down to work in the hole; I come down and find him singing in your room. I expect you to have him pa.s.sing coal inside of fifteen minutes, Campbell."

Harrigan started for the door, feeling that the game had been played out, and glad of even this small respite of a day or more from the labor of the shovel. Before he left the room, however, the voice of Campbell halted him.

"Wait! Stay here! You'll do what I tell you, Harrigan. I'm the boss belowdecks."

It was a declaration of war, and what it cost Campbell no one could ever tell. He stood swaying slightly from side to side, while he glared at Henshaw.

"You're drunk," remarked the captain coldly. "I'll give you half an hour, Campbell, to come to your senses--but after that--"

"d.a.m.n you and your time! I want no tune! I say the lad has been put through h.e.l.l and shan't go back to it, do you hear me?"

Henshaw was controlling himself carefully, or else he wished to draw out the engineer.

He said: "You know the record of Harrigan?"

"What record? The one McTee told you? Would you believe what Black McTee says of a man he tried to break and couldn't?"

"My friend McTee is out of the matter. All that you have to do with is my order. You've heard that order, Campbell!"

"I'll see you in h.e.l.l before I send him to the hole."

Henshaw waited another moment, quietly enjoying the wild excitement of the engineer like the Spanish gentleman who sits in safety in the gallery and watches the baiting of the bull in the arena below.