"Three thousand," snarled Scraggs.
"Sailin's cheap as dirt at two thousand. As a matter of fact,
Scraggsy, me an' Mac'll sail her in for nothin' just to skin you
out o' the salvage."
"Two thousand dollars is my lowest figure," Scraggs declared.
"Take it or leave it, Captain. Under the circumstances,
bargaining is useless. Two thousand is my last bid."
The figure Scraggs named was probably one fifth of what the
master of the _Chesapeake_ knew a court would award; nevertheless
he shook his head.
"It's a straight towing job, Captain, and not a salvage
proposition at all. A tug would tow me in for two hundred and
fifty, but I'll give you five hundred."
Remembering the vegetables he had jettisoned, Scraggs knew he
could not afford to accept that price. "I'm through," he
bluffed--and his bluff worked.
"Taken, Captain Scraggs. Write out an agreement and I'll sign
it."
With the agreement in his pocket, Scraggs, followed by Gibney,
left the cabin. "One hundred each to you an' Mac if you'll stay
aboard the _Chesapeake_, steer her, an' help the _Maggie_ out
with what sail you can get on her," Scraggs promised.
"Take a long, runnin' jump at yourself, Scraggsy, old sorrowful.
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