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You're a fightin' tarantula, and nobody knows it better'n Adelbert P. Gibney. I've seen you in action, Scraggsy. Remember that. It's all right for you to say you're a man of peace and advise me and McGuffey to keep out of the track of trouble, but we know that away down low you're goin' around lookin' for blood, and that once you're up agin the enemy, you never bat an eyelash. Eh, McGuffey?"
They had cut the rivets and removed the head and at sight of the ruin disclosed within, Mr. McGuffey was truly shocked and awed. Why he hadn't been blown to Kingdom Come months before was a profound mystery. He came up and joined Mr. Gibney on a pile of old hemp hawser coiled on the bulkhead. "Danged if I don't feel sorry for old Scraggsy, for all his meanness," he declared.
"But I thought these guns and things was for the Mexicans," quavered Captain Scraggs. "Scab Johnny and Lopez told me they was." Mr. Gibney groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Scraggsy," he said sadly, "it's a cinch you ain't used the past four years to stimulate that imagination of yours.
There's a deal of fine liquor in the wardroom, and I suggest that we nominate Phineas Scraggs, late master of the battleship Maggie, now second in command of the Maggie II, to brew a kettle o' hot grog to celebrate our victory. Mac Scraggsy your fins. I'm proud of you both. Shake."
"The last I remember the king was puttin' it all over Scraggsy. And that Tabu boy was no slouch." McGuffey paused, and glanced warily around the boat, while a dawning horror appeared in his sunken eyes. "Go back, Neils go back for God's sake. There's two niggers still on the island. Bring 'em some water. They're cannibals Neils, but never mind. Get them aboard the poor devils if they're living.
"Pers'nally," McGuffey announced quietly, "I prefer to die aboard the Maggie, if I have to. This ain't movin' day with B. McGuffey, Esquire." "Them's my sentiments, too, Scraggsy." "Then defend yourselves. Come on, lads. Bear a hand an' we'll bounce these muckers overboard."
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.
Scraggsy, stand by and when I give the word have your crew shorten sail." Within a few minutes a long white streak opened up in the wake of the schooner, announcing that McGuffey's engines were doing duty, and a nice breeze springing up two points aft the beam, the Maggie heeled over and fairly flew through the water. Mr.
Gibney tapped gently with his horny knuckles on the honest McGuffey's head. "If there ain't Swiss cheese movements in that head block o' yours, Mac, you an Scraggsy can divide my share o' these two boxes o' ginseng root between you. Do you get it, you chuckleheaded son of an Irish potato? Gin Seng, 714 Dupont Street. Ginseng a root or a herb that medicine is made out of.
And as we are all agreed that the white race is superior to any race on earth, and it'll do us all good to see a fine mill before we leave the country, I move you, gentlemen of the syndicate, that we pull off a finish fight between Scraggsy and the king, and Gib and Tabu-Tabu.
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