Part 9 (2/2)

About ten o'clock that morning the little vessel completed taking on her cargo, the lines were cast off, and the homeward voyage was begun. As she hauled away from the wharf, Messrs. Gibney and McGuffey might have been observed seated on the stern bitts smoking, the picture of contentment. Pirates under the law they might be, but of this they knew nothing and cared less. With them, self-preservation was, indeed, the first law of human nature.

They were still seated on the stern bitts as the _Maggie_ came abreast the Point Montara fog signal station, when Mr. Gibney observed a long telescope poking out the side window of the pilot house. ”h.e.l.lo,” he muttered, ”Scraggsy's seein' things,” and following the direction in which the telescope was pointing he made out a large bark standing in dangerously close to the beach.

In fact, the breakers were tumbling in a long white streak over the reefs less than a quarter of a mile from her. She was lying stern on to the beach, with one anchor out.

In an instant all was excitement aboard the _Maggie_. ”That looks like an elegant little pick-up. She's plumb deserted,” Scraggs shouted to his navigating officer. ”I don't see any distress signals flyin' an' yet she's got an anchor out while her canvas is hangin' so-so.”

”If she had any hands aboard, you'd think they'd have sense enough to clew up her courses,” the mate answered.

At this juncture, Mr. Gibney and McGuffey, unable to restrain their curiosity, and forgetful of the fact that they were pirates with very sore feet, came running over the deckload and invaded the pilot house. ”Gimme that gla.s.s, you sock-eyed salmon, you,”

Gibney ordered Scraggs, and tore the telescope from the owner's hands. ”There ain't enough real seamans.h.i.+p in the crew o' this craft to tax the mental make-up of a Chinaman. Hum--m--m!

American bark _Chesapeake_. Starboard anchor out; yards braced a-box; royals an' to'-gallan'-s'ls clewed up; courses hangin' in the buntlines an' clew garnets, Stars-an'-Stripes upside down.”

He lowered the gla.s.s and roared at Neils Halvorsen, who was at the wheel, ”Starboard your helm, Squarehead. Don't be afraid of her. We're goin' over there an' hook on to her. I should say she is a pick-up.”

Mr. Gibney had abdicated as a pirate and a.s.sumed command of the S.S. _Maggie_. With the memory of a scant breakfast upon him, however, Captain Scraggs was still harsh and bitter.

”Git out o' my pilot house an' aft where the police can find you when they come lookin' for you,” he screeched. ”Don't you give no orders to my deckhand.”

”Stow it, you a.s.s. Don't fly in the face of your own interests, Scraggsy, you bandit. Yonder's a prize, but it'll require imagination to win it; consequently you need Adelbert P. Gibney in your business, if you're contemplatin' hookin' on to that bark, snakin' her into San Francis...o...b..y, an' libelin' her for ten thousand dollars' salvage. You an' me an' Mac an' The Squarehead here have sailed this strip o' coast too long together to quarrel over the first good piece o' salvage we ever run into.

Come, Scraggsy. Be decent, forget the past, an' let's dig in together.”

”If I had a gun,” Scraggs cried, ”I do believe I'd shoot you. Git out o' my pilot house, I tell you, or I'll stick a knife in you.

I'll carve your gizzard, you black-guardin' pirate.”

Inasmuch as Scraggs really did produce a knife, Mr. Gibney backed prudently away. ”You're mighty quick to let bygones be bygones when you see me with a fortune in sight with you wantin' to horn in on the deal, ain't you?” the owner jeered. ”You must think I'm a born fool.”

”I don't think it a-tall. I know it. You're worse'n a born fool.

You're sufferin' from acquired idiocy, which is the mental state folks find themselves in when they refuse to learn by experience an' profit by example. I've always claimed you ain't got no more imagination than a chicken, an' I'll prove it to you right now.

Here you are, braggin' about how you're goin' to salvage that bark but givin' no thought whatever to the means to be employed.

How're you goin' to pull her off? If the _Maggie_ ever had a towline aboard I never seen it. Perhaps, however, you're figgerin' on poolin' all the shoestrings aboard.”

”Every s.h.i.+p that size has a steel towin' cable, wound up on a reel, nice an' handy,” the new navigating officer reminded Mr.

Gibney. ”I can put the skiff out, get the bark's line, haul it back, an' make it fast on the bitts you two skunks has been occupyin' instead of a prison cell.”

”h.e.l.lo! There's another county gone Democratic. Your old man must ha' been to sea once an' told you about it. Them bitts won't hold.”

”I'll make the towline fast to the mainmast.”

”That'll hold, I admit. But has the _Maggie_ got power enough, what with the load she's totin' now, to tow that big bark in to San Francis...o...b..y?”

”Oh, we'll take it easy an' get there some time,” Scraggs chipped in.

”You bet you'll take it easy--easier'n you think. Before you start towin' that bark, you'll have to clew up her canvas a whole lot to make the towin' easier, an' who's goin' to do that? An'

you got to have a man at her wheel.”

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