Lying on his
bed, fully dressed, he found the skipper of the _Chesapeake_. The
man was gaunt and emaciated.
The freebooter of the green-pea trade touched his wet forelock
respectfully. "My name is Gibney, sir, an' I hold an unlimited
license as first mate of sail or steam. I was passin' up the
coast on a good-for-nothin' little bumboat, an' seen you in
distress, so me an' a friend swum over to give you the double O.
You're in a bad way, sir."
"Two hundred and eighty-seven days from Hamburg, Mr. Gibney. Our
vegetables gave out and we drank too much rain water and ate too
much fresh fish down in the Doldrums. Our potatoes all went
rotten before we were out two months. Naturally, the ship's
officers stuck it out longest, but when we drifted in here this
morning, I was the only man aboard able to stand up. I crawled up
on the to'-gallan'-fo'castle and let go the starboard anchor. I'd
had it cock-billed for three weeks. All I had to do was knock out
the stopper."
While Mr. Gibney questioned him and listened avidly to the
horrible tale of privation and despair, McGuffey appeared to
report a brisk fire under the donkey and to promise steam in
forty minutes; also that the _Maggie_ was hove to a cable length
distant, with her crew digging under the deckload of vegetables
for the small boat.
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