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Updated: May 7, 2025
The royal messenger had been incontinently kicked overboard by B. McGuffey, Esquire. Tabu-Tabu's wild eyes glittered and grew wilder and wilder as the messenger reported the indignity thus heaped upon him. The king scowled at Captain Scraggs, and Mr. Gibney was suddenly aware that goose-flesh was breaking out on the backs of his sturdy legs.
"Holy Sailor!" he shouted. "Who uncorked that atter o' violets?" "You dog-gone squarehead," shrieked Captain Scraggs. "You been monkeyin' around that codfish again." "What smells?" demanded the mate, poking his nose out of his room. "That tainted wealth I picked up at sea," shouted a voice from the dock, and turning, Scraggs and McGuffey observed Mr. Gibney standing on a stringer smiling at them.
"My Maggie's tail is shot away," Captain Scraggs wailed, "an' I only rebuilt it a week ago." Three more shots from the long gun missed them, but the fourth carried away the cabin, leaving the wreck of the pilot house, with the helmsman unscathed, sticking up like a sore thumb. "Turn her around and head straight for them," the gallant Gibney roared. "She's a smaller target comin' bows on.
Gibney dreamed that a white man sat in the stern sheets of this whaleboat, and as the boat touched the beach it seemed to Mr. Gibney that this man sprang ashore and ran swiftly toward him. And Mr. Gibney twisted his suffering lips into a wry smile as he realized the oddities of this mirage it seemed to him that this visionary white man bore a striking resemblance to Neils Halvorsen.
Gibney's simple faith in his own ability; perhaps in his veins, all unknown, there flowed a taint of the heroic blood of some forgotten sea-dog. Be that as it may, something did swell in his breast when Mr. Gibney spoke of the flag and his scorning to hide behind it, and Scraggs's snaggle teeth came together with a snap. "All right, Gib, my boy," he said solemnly, "I'm with you. Mrs.
"Now, ain't that a raw deal?" Scraggs complained. "That junk thief gets hauled off first." "The first shall be last an' the last shall be first," Gibney quoted piously. "Don't be a crab, Scraggs. Pray that the fog don't lift." Out of the fog there rose a great hubbub of engine room gongs, the banging of the Bodega's Lyle gun, and much profanity.
Gibney, and sighted again. This time his shrapnel burst neatly on the schooner. Almost simultaneously a shell from the schooner dropped into the sacked coal on the forecastle head of the Maggie and enveloped her in a black pall of smoke and coal dust. Captain Scraggs screamed. "Tit for tat," the philosophical Gibney reminded him. "We can't expect to get away with everything, Scraggsy, old kiddo."
He thrust a cartridge in the fuse setter, twisted it, slammed it in the gun, and fired again. The water broke into tiny waterspouts over a considerable area some two hundred yards short of the schooner, so Mr. Gibney raised his range to five thousand and tried again. "Over," he growled. Something whined over the Maggie and threw up a waterspout half a mile beyond her. "Dubs," jeered Mr.
Pers'nally you got a lot o' fine p'ints an' I like you, but now that I know your past " He threw out his hands despairingly. "It's your morals, Gib, it's your blasted morals." "You're right, Scraggs," Mr. Gibney mumbled brokenly. "It's my duty to go look up them poor children o' mine. Bart, you stick by old Scraggsy.
Have The Squarehead row you ashore in the skiff; I'll stay up an' work the patent foghorn so he can find his way back to the Maggie, while you hike down town " "What for?" Scraggs demanded irritably. "I'm all wore out." "This adventure ain't ended," Mr. Gibney warned him. "There's a witness to our perfidy still at large.
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