Follow me, Jack."
Together they repaired to Jackson Street bulkhead. Sure enough
there lay the _Maggie_, rubbing her blistered sides against the
bulkhead. Captain Scraggs was nowhere in sight, but Mr. Gibney
was at the winch, swinging ashore the crates of vegetables which
The Squarehead and three longshoremen loaded into the cargo net.
"We're outnumbered," Jack Flaherty whispered.
"Let's wait until she's unloaded an' Gibney an' Scraggs are
aboard alone."
They retired without having attracted the attention of Mr.
Gibney, and a few minutes later, Captain Scraggs came down the
bulkhead and sprang aboard.
"Well?" his navigating officer queried.
"Couldn't find him," Scraggs confessed. "Scab Johnny says he
loaned Mac a dry outfit an' the old boy dug out for breakfast at
seven o'clock an' ain't been around since."
"Did you try the saloons, Scraggsy?"
"I did. Likewise the cigar stands an' restaurants, an' the
readin' rooms of the Marine Engineers' Association."
"Guess he's out hustlin' a job," Mr. Gibney sighed. He was filled
with vague forebodings of evil. "If you'd only listened to my
advice last night, Scraggsy--if you'd only listened," he mourned.
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