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But the fact of the whole thing is, Gib's the natural leader of the expedition or whatever it's goin' to be, and he can't have his peace of mind wrecked and his plans disturbed a-chasin' sailors around the deck of the Maggie II. Gib is sorter what the feller calls the power behind the throne. He's too big a figger for the grade of captain.
Hob, who had as much poetry as the tongs, professed to find pleasure in Dand's verses; Clem, who had no more religion than Claverhouse, nourished a heartfelt, at least an open-mouthed, admiration of Gib's prayers; and Dandie followed with relish the rise of Clem's fortunes. Indulgence followed hard on the heels of admiration.
They were within half a mile of it, heading right into the eye of the wind, when Captain Scraggs and McGuffey stood erect in the launch simultaneously and sniffed like a pair of well, sea-dogs. "Dead whale," suggested McGuffey. "I hope it ain't Gib's fortune," replied Scraggs drily. "Shut up," bellowed Mr. Gibney.
"He has some of Hob's grand, whunstane sense, and the same way with him of steiking his mouth when he's no very pleased." And Hob, all unconscious, would draw down his upper lip and produce, as if for comparison, the formidable grimace referred to. The unsatisfactory incumbent of St. Enoch's Kirk was thus briefly dismissed: "If he had but twa fingers o' Gib's, he would waken them up."
"He has some of Hob's grand, whunstane sense, and the same way with him of steiking his mouth when he's no very pleased." And Hob, all unconscious, would draw down his upper lip and produce, as if for comparison, the formidable grimace referred to. The unsatisfactory incumbent of St. Enoch's Kirk was thus briefly dismissed: "If he had but twa fingers o' Gib's, he would waken them up."
"Hurry up with them eggs, Scraggs," he rumbled. "Me an' Gib's walked down from the city an' we're hungry. Jawn D. Rockerfeller'd give a million dollars for my appetite. Fry mine hard, Scraggsy. I want somethin' solid." Scraggs looked up and his cold green eyes were agleam with malice and triumph as they rested on the unhappy pair.
I had a good job, too, but I guess it's all off now, and the Mexican Government'll fire me. Say, who chucked that buckshot down into my engine room?" "Admiral Gibney did it," said Scraggs. "The old Maggie's alongside and me and Gib's filibusters. Bear a hand, Mac, and help us clap the hatches on our prisoners." "Thank God," said Mr. Gibney piously, "I didn't kill you.
As he passed up the companion-way, the first mate heard him murmur: "Gib's a fine lad. I'll be dad burned if he ain't." 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. "What's for breakfast, Scraggsy, old kid?" asked Mr. Gibney. "Fried eggs," said Captain Scraggs, remembering Mr.
Every Sunday morning he was in Crossmichael, where he had gathered together, one by one, a sect of about a dozen persons, who called themselves "God's Remnant of the True Faithful," or, for short, "God's Remnant." To the profane they were known as "Gib's Deils." It was known that every Sunday they prayed for a blessing on the arms of Buonaparte.
"Me an' Gib's goin' ashore for lunch at the Marigold Café," McGuffey announced presently, in order to break the horrible silence that followed Scraggsy's crushing defeat. "I'm willin' to spend some o' my profits on the deal an' blow you to a lunch with a small bottle o' Dago Red thrown in. How about it, Scraggs?" "I'm on." Scraggs sought to throw off his gloom and appear sprightly.
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