"Praise be!" Michael J. Murphy answered heartily. "We'll have some
interest in life now. We can get all the war news, going and coming,
can't we? Have you brought along an operator?"

"I am an operator," the supercargo answered. "By the by, can you fix
me up with a wireless room?"

"There are two staterooms and a bath in the owners' suite which you
will occupy. You can take your choice."

"Good. I shall want to sleep close to my instrument."

He opened the bag, counted out five one-thousand-dollar gold
certificates of the United States of America and handed them to the
captain.

"The grand old rag," Michael J. murmured. "How many rascals fight
under the flag of old King Spondulics!"

"I believe you have an Irish chief engineer," von Staden continued.
"While I understand his sympathies are with us, still it seems only
right to compensate--"

"Suit yourself, Mr. von Staden."

"What kind of a man is he, captain?"

"I'd hate to tell you. I've had little to do with him, but that little
was enough. We avoid each other as much as possible and never speak