Part 31 (1/2)

Mr. Gibney winked slyly at McGuffey. They each knew Scraggs little relished the prospect before him, though to do him justice he was mean enough to fight and fight well, if he thought he had half a chance to get the decision. But he knew the king was as hard as tacks, and was more than his match in a rough and tumble, and while he spoke bravely enough, his words did not deceive his s.h.i.+pmates, and inwardly they shook with laughter.

”Clear away the big whaleboat with two men to pull us ash.o.r.e,”

said Mr. Gibney to the mate. Five minutes later the members of the syndicate, accompanied by the captives, climbed into the whaleboat and shoved off, leaving the _Maggie II_ in charge of the mate. ”We'll be back in half an hour,” called the commodore, as they rowed away from the schooner. ”Just ratch back and forth and keep heavin' the lead.”

They negotiated the fringe of breakers to the north of the island successfully, pulled the boat up on the beach, and proceeded at once to business. Mr. Gibney explained to Tabu-Tabu what was expected of him, and Tabu-Tabu in turn explained to the king. It was not the habit of white men, so Mr. Gibney explained, to kill their prisoners in cold blood, and he had decided to give them an opportunity to fight their way out of a sad predicament with their naked fists. If they won, they would be taken back aboard the schooner and later dropped at some inhabited island. If they lost, they must make their home for the future on Tuvana-tholo.

”Let 'er go,” called McGuffey, and Mr. Gibney squared off and made a bear-like pa.s.s at Tabu-Tabu. To the amazement of all present Tabu-Tabu sprang lightly backward and avoided the blow.

His footwork was excellent and McGuffey remarked as much to Captain Scraggs. But when Tabu-Tabu put up his hands after the most approved method of self-defense and dropped into a ”crouch,”

McGuffey could no longer contain himself.

”The beggar can fight, the beggar can fight,” he croaked, wild with joy. ”Scraggs, old man, this'll be a rare mill, I promise you. He's been aboard a British man-o'-war and learned how to box. Steady, Gib. Upper-cut him, upper--_wow!_”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”_Tabu Tabu ... planted a mighty right in the centre of Mr. Gibney's physiognomy_”]

Tabu-Tabu had stepped in and planted a mighty right in the centre of Mr. Gibney's physiognomy, following it up with a hard left to the commodore's ear. Mr. Gibney rocked a moment on his st.u.r.dy legs, stepped back out of range, dropped both hands, and stared at Tabu-Tabu.

”I do believe the n.i.g.g.e.r'll lick you, Gib,” said McGuffey anxiously. ”He's got a horrible reach and a mule kick in each mit. Close with him, or he's due for a full pardon.”

”In a minute,” said the commodore faintly. ”He's so good I hate to hurt him. But I'll infight him to a finish.”

Which Mr. Gibney forthwith proceeded to do. He rushed his opponent and clinched, though not until his right eye was in mourning and a stiff jolt in the short ribs had caused him to grunt in most ign.o.ble fas.h.i.+on. But few men could withstand Mr.

Gibney once he got to close quarters. Tabu-Tabu wrapped his long arms around the commodore and endeavoured to smother his blows, but Mr. Gibney would not be denied. His great fist shot upward from the hip and connected with the cannibal's chin. Tabu-Tabu relaxed his hold, Mr. Gibney followed with left and right to the head in quick succession, and McGuffey was counting the fatal ten over the fallen warrior.

Mr. Gibney grinned rather foolishly, spat, and spoke to McGuffey, _sotto voce_: ”By George, the joke ain't all on Scraggsy,” he said. Then turning to Captain Scraggs: ”Help yourself to the mustard, Scraggsy, old tarpot.”

Captain Scraggs took off his hat, rolled up his sleeves, and made a dive for the royal presence. His majesty, lacking the scientific training of his prime minister, seized a handful of the Scraggs mane and tore at it cruelly. A well-directed kick in the s.h.i.+ns, however, caused him to let go, and a moment later he was flying up the beach with the angry Scraggs in full cry after him. McGuffey headed the king off and rounded him up so Scraggs could get at him, and the latter at once ”dug in” like a terrier.

After five minutes of mauling and tearing Captain Scraggs was out of breath, so he let go and stood off a few feet to size up the situation. The wicked McGuffey was laughing immoderately, but to Scraggs it was no laughing matter. The fact of the matter was the king was dangerous and Scraggs had glutted himself with revenge.

”I don't want to beat an old man to death,” he gasped finally.

”I'll let the scoundrel go. He's had enough and he won't fight.

Let's mosey along back to the schooner and leave them here to amuse themselves the best way they know how.”

”Right-O,” said Mr. Gibney, and turned to walk down the beach to the boat. A second later a hoa.r.s.e scream of rage and terror broke from his lips.

”What's up?” cried McGuffey, the laughter dying out of his voice, for there was a hint of death in Mr. Gibney's cry.

”Marooned!” said the commodore hoa.r.s.ely. ”Those two sailors have pulled back to the schooner, and--there--look, Mac! My Gawd!”

McGuffey looked, and his face went whiter than the foaming breakers beyond which he could see the _Maggie II_, under full sail, headed for the open sea. The small boat had been picked up, and there was no doubt that at her present rate of speed the schooner would be hull down on the horizon by sunset.

”The murderin' hound,” whispered McGuffey, and sagged down on the sands. ”Oh, the murderin' hound of a mate!”

”It's--it's mutiny,” gulped Captain Scraggs in a hard, strained voice. ”That b.l.o.o.d.y fiend of a mate! The sly sneak-thief, with his pleasant smile and his winnin' ways! Saw a chance to steal the _Maggie_ and her rich cargo, and he is leavin' us here, marooned on a desert island, with _two cannibals_.”

Captain Scraggs fairly shrieked the last two words and burst into tears. ”Lord, Gib, old man,” he raved, ”whatever will we do?”