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Updated: May 7, 2025
"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. "No hope," replied Mr.
Following his discharge from the Navy he had sailed coastwise on steam schooners, and after attending a navigation school for two months, had procured a license as chief mate of steam, any ocean and any tonnage. Unfortunately for Mr. Gibney, he had a failing. Most of us have.
Gibney had spent part of an adventurous life in the United States Navy, where he had applied himself and acquired a fair smattering of navigation. Prior to entering the Navy he had been a foremast hand in clipper ships and had held a second mate's berth.
Gibney vowed that if a United States cruiser didn't happen to be lying in the roadstead, he would have shelled the town in retaliation. But eventually the days passed, and the Maggie II, well found and ready for sea, shook out her sails to a fair breeze and sailed away for Kandavu.
Gibney, beaming, "the motion's carried unanimous. Captain chief your fins. Dook me. I'm honoured by the handshake. Now, regarding that crew you brought down from San Francisco on the old Maggie, Scraggs, they're a likely lot and will come in handy if times is as lively in Colombia as I figger they will be when we arrive there.
Still, they'd have a lien on the Maggie " "Steamer ahoy!" came a voice from the beach. "Man with a megaphone," Mr. Gibney cried. "Ahoy! Ahoy, there!" "Who are you an' what's the trouble?" Captain Scraggs took it upon himself to answer: "American steamer Mag " Mr.
The stern-wheel steamer Victor, well found, staunch and newly painted. Boilers and engines in excellent shape. Vessel must be sold to close out an estate. Address John Coakley, Jackson Street wharf. "How d'ye know she's a fortune, Gib?" McGuffey demanded. "Lemme look at her engines before you get excited." "I ain't sayin' she is," Mr. Gibney retorted testily.
On the afternoon of the tenth day on the island the sky clouded up and Mr. Gibney predicted a williwaw. Captain Scraggs inquired feebly if it was good to eat. That night it rained, and to the great joy of the marooned mariners Mr. Gibney discovered, in the centre of a big sandstone rock, a natural reservoir that held about ten gallons of water.
"Chuck me down a nut, Gib," said Captain Scraggs. "I'm famished." In conformity with the commodore's plans, the castaways made camp in the grove. For a week they subsisted on gooneys, taro root, cocoanuts and cocoanut milk, and a sea-turtle which Scraggs found wandering on the beach. This suggested turtle eggs to Mr. Gibney, and a change of diet resulted.
Scraggs measured the distance with his eye to the nearest fringe of surf and it was plain that he was worried. "Captain Scraggs," the skipper of the Chesapeake called feebly, "Mr. Gibney is right. That craft of yours is unable to tow my ship against this wind.
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