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Witness my hand and seal: Captain Scraggs signed without reading and the new mate and Neils Halvorsen appended their signatures as witnesses. Mr.
A tall dark man, wearing an ancient palmleaf hat, sat smoking on the hatch coaming, and him Neils Halvorsen addressed. "Aye bane want to see Cap'n Scraggs," he said. The tall dark man stood erect and cast a quick, questioning look at Neils Halvorsen. He hesitated before he made answer. "What do you want?" he asked deliberately, and there was a subtle menace in his tones.
The commodore shuddered. He was filled with vague misgivings, but Neils Halvorsen grinned cheerfully. McGuffey got out a cologne-scented handkerchief and clamped it across his nose. "Well, if that's Gib's fortune, it must be filthy lucre," he mumbled through the handkerchief. "Gib, what have you hooked on to? A public dump?" Mr. Gibney's eyes flashed, but he made no reply.
For nearly half a minute Neils Halvorsen stared open-mouthed at the spurious Captain Scraggs, while slowly there sifted through his brain the notion that he had happened across the track of a deep and bloody mystery of the seas. There was "something rotten in Denmark." Of that Neils Halvorsen was certain.
The first business before the meetin' is a call for volunteers to furnish a money-makin' idee for the syndicate." Neils Halvorsen shook his sorrel head. He had no ideas. B. McGuffey, Esquire, shook his head also. Captain Scraggs wanted to sing. "I see it's up to me to suggest somethin'." Mr. Gibney smiled benignly, as if a money-making idea was the easiest thing on earth to produce.
It was just a squib in the shipping news, but Neils Halvorsen read it with amazement and joy: The power schooner Maggie II arrived this morning, ten days from the Friendly Islands. The little schooner came into port with her hold bursting with the most valuable cargo that has entered Honolulu in many years. It consists for the most part of black coral.
"As a member o' the Maggie Syndicate an' ownin' an' votin' a quarter interest," boomed the engineer, "I hereby call a meetin' o' the said syndicate for the purpose o' transactin' any an' all business that may properly come before the meetin'." "Pass the word for Neils Halvorsen," suggested Mr. Gibney. "Bless his squarehead soul," he added.
"One hundred an' fifty per cent. efficient," McGuffey declared. Neils Halvorsen said nothing, but grinned like the head of an old fiddle. Mr. Gibney appeared to swell visibly, after the manner of a turkey gobbler. "Thanks, Scraggsy an' you, too, Bart.
The only water on this island is on the brain of Adelbert P. Gibney." Neils Halvorsen often wondered what had become of the Maggie and Captain Scraggs. Mr.
Now began another period of six years more, these the most painful in Ibsen's life, when, as Halvorsen has said, he had to fight not merely for the existence of himself and his family, but for the very existence of Norwegian poetry and the Norwegian stage. This struggle was an excessively distressing one.
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