It appeared that Terence was chief of
the Arab, loading grain at Port Costa; so to Port Costa Matt Peasley
went to interview him. He found Reardon on deck, enjoying a short
pipe and a breath of cool air, and introduced himself.
"I understand you were the chief of the Narcissus at one time, Mr.
Reardon," Matt began abruptly. "I understand, also, that under your
coaxing you used to get ten miles out of her loaded."
Parenthetically it may be stated that Matt Peasley had never heard
anything of the sort; but he knew the weaknesses of chief engineers
and decided to try a shot in the dark, hoping, by the grace of the
devil and the luck of a sailor, to score a bull's-eye. He succeeded
at least in ringing the bell.
"Coax, is it?" murmured Terence Reardon in his deep Kerry brogue.
"Faith, thin, the Narcissus niver laid eye on the day she could do
nine an' a half wit' the kindliest av treatment. Wirrah, but 'tis
herself was the glutton for coal. Sure, whin I'd hand in me report to
ould Webb, and he'd see where she'd averaged forty ton a day, the big
tears'd come into the two eyes av him--the Lord ha' mercy on his
sowl!"
"You never had any trouble with her engines," Matt suggested.
"I had throuble keepin' shteam enough in the b'ilers to run thim; but
I'll say this for her ingines: Give them a chancet an' they'd run
like a chronometer.
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