Part 23 (2/2)

D'ye think I want to go around killin' people?... There ain't no pleasure gettin' killed in the mere shank of a bright and prosperous life ... a dead hero don't gather no moss, Scraggsy.

Reads all right in books, but it don't appeal none to me. I'm for peace every time, so right away as soon as I heard of the trouble, says I to myself: 'Things has been pretty quiet in Mexico for twenty years, and they're due to s.h.i.+ft things around pretty much. What them peons need is a man with an imagination to help 'em out, and if they've got the money, Adelbert P. Gibney can supply the brains.' So I comes north to Los Angeles, shows the insurrecto junta my medal and my honourable discharges from every s.h.i.+p I'd ever been in, includin' the gunboat _Bogota_, and I talked big and swelled around and told 'em to run in some arms and get busy. I framed it all up for this filibuster trip you're on, Scraggsy, only I never did hear that they'd picked on you. I told that coffee-coloured rat of a Lopez man to hunt up Scab Johnny and he'd set him right, but if anybody had told me you had the nerve to run the _Maggie_ in on this deal, Scraggsy, I'd a-called him a liar. Scraggs, you're _mucho-bueno_--that is, you're all right. I'm so used to talkin' Spanish that I forget myself. Still, there's one end of this little deal that I ain't exactly explained to all hands. If I'd a-known they was charterin' the _Maggie_, I'd have blocked the game.”

”Why?” demanded Captain Scraggs, instantly on the defensive.

”Not that I'm holdin' any grudge agin you, Scraggsy,” said Mr.

Gibney affably, ”but I wouldn't a-had you no more now than I would when we was runnin' in the green-pea trade. It's because you ain't got no imagination, and the _Maggie_ ain't big enough for my purpose. Havin' the _Maggie_ sort of puts a crimp in my plans.”

”Rot,” snapped Captain Scraggs. ”I've had the _Maggie_ overhauled and s.h.i.+pped a new wheel, and she's a mighty smart little boat, I'll tell you. I'll land them arms in Descanso Bay all right.”

”I know you will,” said Mr. Gibney sadly. ”That's just what hurts. You see, Scraggsy, I never intended 'em for Descanso Bay in the first place. There's a nice healthy little revolution fomentin' down in the United States of Colombia, with Adelbert P.

Gibney playin' both ends to the middle. And there's a dog-hole down on the Gold Coast where I intended to land this cargo, but now that Scab Johnny's gone to work and sent me a bay scow instead of a sea-goin' steamer, I'm in the nine-hole instead o'

dog-hole. I can never get as far as the Gold Coast with the _Maggie_. She can't carry coal enough to last her.”

”But I thought these guns and things was for the Mexicans,”

quavered Captain Scraggs. ”Scab Johnny and Lopez told me they was.”

Mr. Gibney groaned and hid his face in his hands. ”Scraggsy,” he said sadly, ”it's a cinch you ain't used the past four years to stimulate that imagination of yours. Of course they was purchased for the Mexicans, but what was to prevent me from lettin' the Mexicans pay for them, help out on the charter of the boat, and then have me divert the cargo to the United States of Colombia, where I can sell 'em at a clear profit, the cost bein' nothin' to speak of? Now you got to come b.u.t.tin' in with the _Maggie_, and what happens? Why, I got to be honest, of course. I got to make good on my bluff, and what's in it for me? Nothin' but glory. Can you hock a chunk of glory for ham and eggs, Phineas Scraggs? Not on your life. If it hadn't been for you b.u.t.tin' in with your blasted, rotten hulk of a fresh-water skiff, I'd----”

Mr. Gibney paused ominously and savagely bit the end of his cigar. As for Captain Scraggs, every drop of blood in his body was boiling in defense of the s.h.i.+p he loved.

”You're a pirate,” he shrilled.

”And you're just as big a hornet as you ever was,” replied Mr.

Gibney. ”Always buzzin' around where you ain't wanted. But still, what's the use of bawlin' over spilt milk? We'll drop into San Diego for a couple of hours and take on coal, and about sunset we'll pull out and make the run down to Descanso Bay in the dark.

We might as well forget the past and put this thing through as per program. Only I saw visions of a schooner all my own, Scraggsy, and--well, what's the use? What's the use? Scraggsy, you're a natural-born mar-plot. Always b.u.t.tin' in, b.u.t.tin' in, b.u.t.tin' in, fit for nothin' but the green-pea trade. However, I guess I can turn into my old berth and get some sleep. Put the old girl under a slow bell and save your coal. We'll have to fool away four or five hours in San Diego anyhow and there ain't no sense in crowdin' the old hulk.”

”Gib,” said Captain Scraggs, ”was that really your lay--to steal the cargo, double-cross the insurrecto junta, and sell out to a furrin' country?”

”Of course it was,” said Mr. Gibney pettishly. ”They all do such things in the banana republics. Why should I be an exception?

There's half a dozen different gangs fightin' each other and the government in Mexico, and if I don't deliver these arms, just see all the lives I'll be savin'. And after I got the cargo into Colombia and sold it, I could have peached on the rebels there, and got a reward for it, and saved a lot more lives, and come away rich and respected.”

”By the Lord Harry,” said Captain Scraggs, ”but you've got an imagination, Gib. I'll swear to that. Gib, I take off my hat to you. You're all tight and s.h.i.+pshape and no loose ends bobbin'

around _you_. Don't tell me th' scheme's got t' fall through, Gib. Great snakes, don't tell me that. Ain't there some way o'

gettin' around it? There _must_ be. Why, Gib, my dear boy, I never heard of such a grand lay in my life. It's a absolute winner. Don't give up, Gib. Oil up your imagination and find a way out. Let's get together, Gib, and make a little money. Dang it all, Gib, I been lonesome ever since I seen you last.”

”Well,” replied Mr. Gibney, ”I'll turn in and try to scheme a way out, but I don't hold out no hope. Not a ray of it. I'm afraid, Scraggsy, we've got to be honest.”

Saying which, Mr. Gibney hopped up into his berth, stretched his huge legs, and fell asleep with his clothes on. Captain Scraggs looked him over with the closest approach to affection that had ever lightened his cold gray eye, and sighing heavily, presently went on deck. As he pa.s.sed up the companion-way, the first mate heard him murmur:

”Gib's a fine lad. I'll be dad burned if he ain't.”

CHAPTER XIX

At six o'clock next morning the _Maggie_ was rounding Point Loma, heading in for San Diego Bay, and Captain Scraggs went below and awakened Mr. Gibney.

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