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“Well, Captain,” said the subdued Murphy, “I’ll git me brick, and let me ask ye. If ye’ve any shovels lyin’ loose, stow ’em away. A shovel is a deadly weapon in the hands o’ wan o’ these fellys.”

Murphy went forward to the galley, and soon had pried out a solid, well-preserved brick from under the stove in the galley floor, against the aggrieved protest of the Chinese cook.

“Dry up, ye Chink,” said Murphy. “Tell me, though, what’s the bill o’ fare for the forecastle. Mate three times a day?”

“Meat foul timey one week,” answered the Chinaman.

“God help ye, doctor!” said Murphy, kindly. “Kape well widin yer galley, and have a carvin’-knife sharp; or better still, dig out another brick for yersilf. I’ve troubles o’ me own.”

Stepping out of the galley, Murphy met Hennesey emerging from the port forecastle door.

“Well, ye rakin’s o’ Newgate, and what are you doin’ here?” he demanded, fiercely. “Ye doped me successfully, Hennesey, and here I am wid our account unsettled. But what brings you here?”

“Kape yer hands off me, John Murphy, and I’ll tell ye. The dope in the bottles was too strong for me, but not for thim. When they wakened at daylight they found me among ’em with the tug alongside, and insisted that I drink wid thim ‘fore goin’ aboard the tug.”

“And ye did?”

“I did. They had their fingers at me throat, Murphy. So I drank. I git this for tryin’ to help you out in your schemes, John Murphy.”

“And I git this for not watchin’ you, Tim Hennesey. Gwan aft; the old man ‘ll make ye a bosun like me; then come forrard and git yerself a brick agin’ the time whin they wake up. Our lives are in danger whin they find out they’ve got to wark a wind-jammer across to the old sod. We’ll settle our private account later on.”

Murphy accompanied Hennesey aft and listened to his explanations to Captain Williams. They were glib and apologetic.

“I didn’t know,” he said, “that they weren’t sailormin. And they were the only min in port, and Murphy had ’em; so I shipped ’em.”

“Exactly,” answered the captain, coldly; “and they shipped you. You two fellows are caught in the plant you prepared for me, and you’ve got to stand for it. Ever been to sea, Hennesey?”

“Tin years, Captain. I’m an able seaman, though not a heavy man.”

“Heavy enough. Get a brick out of the galley, and I’ll make you a bosun without pay. You two will make those tarriers work. Come aft to the wheel, the pair of you. Mr. Baker”–this to the man coiling ropes, who dropped his task and followed–“Mr. Baker,” said the captain, “and Mr. Sharp”–he turned to the man at the wheel–“these two men have some influence over the crew, and I’ve made them acting bosuns. They’ve been to sea, and their part is to loose canvas and put ropes into the hands of the others. Your part is to see that they do it.”

The two officers turned their swollen faces toward Murphy and Hennesey, and inspected them through closed and blackened eyelids. Then they nodded, and the introduction was complete.

“Come, Hennesey,” said Murphy, briskly, now that the situation was defined. “We’ll be gettin’ a brick for ye, and wan each for the skipper and the mates. We’ll need ’em. Thin we’ll go through ’em for the dope, and then we’ll loose the canvas.”

For this short run across the Atlantic Captain Williams had shipped neither carpenter, sailmaker, nor boatswains, he and his two mates, a weakling steward and the Chinese cook representing the afterguard until the advent of Murphy and Hennesey. To properly equip this afterguard, Murphy pried out six more bricks from under the galley stove, solemnly distributed them with instructions as to their use, and then he and Hennesey replevined the half-empty bottles from the sleepers, an easy task for such skilled craftsmen.

About noon the twenty-four awakened and clamored for their dinner. It was served, and as it contained meat in plenty it was satisfactory; then, smoking their clay pipes, they mustered on deck and, more or less unconsciously, divided into two parts, the Galways separate from the Limericks.