three-mile limit-an' the devil scoort them thin. Riggins, ye gossoon,
what for the cause av Merry England? They wouldn't take ye for a gift
in the British Arrmy, for I doubt if ye'd weigh ninety pounds soakin'
wet an' a rock in yer hand, but for all that, here's an iligant
opporchunity for ye to serrve yer counthry, an' should worrd av yer
brave action reach the king--bad cess to him--he may call ye Sir
Thomas Riggins an' make ye consul-general av the Cannibal Islands.

"Out wit' it, Riggins. Yer king an' counthry calls ye, an' be the same
token so do Michael J. Murphy an' Terence P. Reardon. What'll ye give,
Riggins, to preserve the seas to Britain?"

"Me 'eart's blood, that's wot!" Riggins replied quietly.

"I accept the sacrifice in the name av His Majesty, King Jarge! Be on
deck at ten o'clock sharp, waitin' close undher the shtarboard
companion leadin' to the bridge. Whin I come out on the shtarboard ind
av the bridge an' whistle 'O'Donnell Abu,' do ye--"

"S'help me, chief, I never 'eard of the blighter before," Riggins
interrupted.

"God forgive me!" Mr. Reardon murmured _sotto voce_. "I'll have to do
it. Well, thin, Riggins, whin I come out on the shtarboard ind av the
bridge an' whistle 'God Save the King'--troth, I'll gamble that's one
blighter ye've hearrd tell av--do ye run up into the pilot-house an'
take the wheel. I'll not whistle until we have the deck to ourselves,
wit'out fear av intherruption, an' ye must come quick an' take the
wheel, else the vessel'll fall off into the trough av the sea an'
commince to wallow--which same'll wake up the second mate an' bring