nevertheless, that there are certain contingencies over which no human
being has control. One of these is Newton's law of gravitation;
another, an equally immutable law to the effect that water will seek
its own level; a third, the vindictiveness of an outraged Irishman;
and a fourth, the very natural tendency of any man, not excepting Mr.
Terence Reardon, to be profoundly surprised and intensely curious when
certain phenomena, which we shall now proceed to explain, take place
in the engine room where he is chief.

Michael J. Murphy, having only the day before again essayed the task
of whistling up the engine room, and having, by reason of the ball of
cotton waste with which the tube had been plugged by the first
assistant engineer, again failed to receive the courtesy of a reply
from any one, had, to put it mildly, been annoyed.

"Very well, my bullies," he soliloquized as he hung up the tube, "you
wouldn't speak to me when I wanted to speak to you; so now the first
time one of you wants to speak to me I'll hand you a surprise, and
I'll hand it to you right in the mouth." And forthwith Michael J. had
carefully poured down the speaking tube the contents of the basin in
which he had just made his morning ablutions! He longed to do
something nasty, and he succeeded admirably.

As we have already remarked, water seeks its own level. It ran down
the speaking-tube until it encountered the cotton waste plug;
whereupon, due to the hydrostatic pressure, the plug gave way and was
forced down to the tightly closed mouth of the tube, and the suds
backed up behind it. It was pretty warm in the engine room, and most
of the water had evaporated by the time Terence Reardon took down the
looped tube and opened it for the purpose of putting his lips to the