Part 24 (1/2)
”What's for breakfast, Scraggsy, old kid?” asked Mr. Gibney.
”Fried eggs,” said Captain Scraggs, remembering Mr. Gibney's partiality for that form of nutriment in the vanished days of the green-pea trade. ”Ham an' fried eggs an' a sizzlin' pot o'
coffee. Thought a way out o' our mess, Gib?”
”Not yet,” replied Mr. Gibney as he rolled out of bed, ”but eggs is always stimulatin', and I don't give up hope on a full stomach.”
An hour later they were tied up under the coal bunkers, and at Mr. Gibney's suggestion some twenty tons of sacked coal were piled on top of the fo'castle head and on the main deck for'd, in case of emergency. They lay in the harbour all day until about four o'clock, when Mr. Gibney, by virtue of his authority as supercargo, ordered the lines cast off and the _Maggie_ steamed out of the harbour. Off Point Loma they veered to the south, leaving the Coronado Islands on the starboard quarter, ten miles to the west. Mr. Gibney was below with Captain Scraggs, battling with the problem that confronted them, when the mate stuck his head down the companion-way to report a large power schooner coming out from the lee of the Coronados and standing off on a course calculated to intercept the _Maggie_ in an hour or two.
Captain Scraggs and Mr. Gibney sprang up on the bridge at once, the latter with Scraggs's long gla.s.s up to his eye.
”She was hove to under the lee of the island, and the minute we came out of the harbour and turned south she come nosin' after us,” said the mate.
”Hum!” muttered Mr. Gibney. ”Gasoline schooner. Two masts and baldheaded. About a hundred and twenty ton, I should say, and showin' a pretty pair of heels. There's somethin' up for'd--yes--let me see--ye-e-es, there's two more--_holy sailor! it's a gunboat!_ One of those doggoned gasoline coast patrol boats, and there's the Federal flag flying at the fore.”
”Let's put back to San Diego Bay,” quavered Captain Scraggs.
”I'll be durned if I relish the idee o' losin' the _Maggie_.”
”Too late,” said the philosophical Gibney. ”We're in Mexican waters now, and she can cut us off from the bay. The only thing we can do is to run for it and try to lose her after dark. Tell the engineer to crowd her to the limit. There ain't much wind to speak of, so I guess we can manage to hold our own for a while.
Nevertheless, I've got a hunch that we'll be overhauled. Of course, you ain't got no papers to show, Scraggs, and they'll search the cargo, and confiscate us, and shoot the whole bloomin'
crowd of us. I bet a dollar to a doughnut that fellow Lopez sold us out, after the fas.h.i.+on of the country. I can't help thinkin'
that that gunboat was there just a-waitin' for us to show up.”
For several minutes Mr. Gibney continued to study the gunboat until there could no longer be any doubt that she intended to overhaul them. He made out that she had a long gun for'd, with a battery of two one-pounders on top of her house and something on her port quarter that looked like a Maxim rapid-fire gun. About twenty men, dressed in white cloth, could be seen on her decks.
Presently Mr. Gibney was interrupted by Captain Scraggs pulling at his sleeve.
”You was a gunner once, wasn't you, Gib?” said Captain Scraggs in a trembling voice.
”You bet I was,” replied Mr. Gibney. ”My shootin' won the trophy three times in succession when I was on the old _Kearsarge_. If I had one good gun and a half-decent crew, I'd knock that gunboat silly before she knew what had hit her.”
”Gib, I've got an idee,” said Captain Scraggs.
”Out with it,” said Mr. Gibney cheerfully.
”There was four little cannon lowered into the hold the last thing before we put on the main hatch, and the ammunition to load 'em with is stowed in the after hold and very easy to get at.”
Mr. Gibney turned a beaming face to the skipper, reached out his arms, and folded Captain Scraggs in an embrace that would have done credit to a grizzly bear. There were genuine tears of admiration in his eyes and in his voice when he could master his emotions sufficiently to speak.
”Scraggsy, old tarpot, you've been a long time comin' through on the imagination, but you've sure arrived with all sail set. I always thought you had about as much nerve as an oyster, but I take it all back. We'll get out them two little jacka.s.s guns and fight a naval battle, and if I don't sink that Mexican gunboat, and save the _Maggie_, feed me to the sharks, for I won't be worthy of the blood that's in me. Pipe all hands and lift off that main hatch. Reeve a block and tackle through that cargo gaff and stand by to heave out the guns.”
But Captain Scraggs had repented of his rash suggestion almost the moment he made it. Only the dire necessity of desperate measures to save the _Maggie_ had prompted him to put the idea into Mr. Gibney's head, and when he saw the avidity with which the latter set to work clearing for action, his terror knew no bounds.
”Oh, Gib,” he wailed, ”I'm afraid we better not try to lick that gunboat after all. They might sink us with all hands.”
”Rats!” said Mr. Gibney, as he leaped into the hold. ”Bear a light here until I can root out the wheels of these guns. Here they are, labelled 'cream separator.' Stand by with that sling to----”
”But, Gib, my _dear_ boy,” protested Captain Scraggs, ”this is _insanity_!”
”I know it,” said Mr. Gibney calmly. ”Scraggsy, you're perfectly right. But I'd sooner die fightin' than let them stand me up agin a wall in Ensenada. We're filibusters, Scraggsy, and we're caught with the goods. I, for one, am goin' down with the steamer _Maggie_, but I'm goin' down fightin' like a bear.”
”Maybe--maybe we can outrun her, Gib,” half sobbed Captain Scraggs.