Cappy Ricks Retires

t might have been Mr. Reardon's. For fully half an hour he lay there, gradually straightening out the tangle in his intellect, and presen

the skipper wondered vaguely if the ship's funnel had fallen over on him. His right side ached externally, and when he sighed it ached internally. That was a broken rib tickling his lung, for, while he was in blissful ignorance of the reason there

een fed into a concrete mixer. The only injury I can accou

uriant black mustache prevented an extended examination of his upper lip, but nevertheless, something told him it was split. A hard foreign substance lying between his right cheek and the inferior

onsidering this state of affairs, he was aware that something that was not his head was throbbing in the ship. He decided presently that it was her engines. From the steady rhythmic pulsations he realized the vessel was being driven full speed ahead; and since he could not recal

u beware the Irish when they weep fr