"She's hauled down her rag," shrieked Scraggs. "Be merciful, Gib.
There's men dyin' on that boat."
"Lay alongside that craft," Mr. Gibney shouted to the helmsman.
The schooner had hove to and when the _Maggie_ also hove to some
thirty yards to windward of her Mr. Gibney informed the Mexican,
in atrocious Spanish well mixed with English, that if the latter
so much as lifted his little finger he might expect to be sunk
like a dog. "Down below, everybody but the helmsman, or I'll
sweep your decks with another muzzle burst," he thundered.
The Mexican obeyed and Captain Scraggs went up in the pilot house
and laid the terribly battered _Maggie_ alongside the schooner.
The instant she touched, Mr. Gibney sprang aboard, quickly
followed by Captain Scraggs, who had relinquished the helm to his
first mate.
Suddenly Captain Scraggs shouted, "Look, Gib, for the love of the
Lord, look!" and pointed with his finger. At the head of the
little iron-railed companion way leading down into the engine
room a man was standing. He had a monkey wrench in one hand and a
greasy rag in the other.
Mr. Gibney turned and looked at the man.
"McGuffey, for a thousand," he bellowed, and ran forward with
outstretched hand.
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