"
Captain Scraggs fairly shrieked the last two words and burst into
tears. "Lord, Gib, old man," he raved, "whatever will we do?"
Thus appealed to, the doughty commodore permitted his two
unmatched optics to rest mournfully upon his shipmates. For
nearly a minute he gazed at them, the while he struggled to
stifle the awful fear within him. In the Gibney veins there
flowed not a drop of craven blood, but the hideous prospect
before him was almost more than the brave commodore could bear.
Death, quick and bloody, had no terrors for him, but a finish
like this--a slow finish--thirst, starvation, heat----
He gulped and thoughtfully rubbed the knuckles of his right hand
where the skin was barked off. He thought of the silly joke he
and McGuffey had thought to perpetrate on Captain Scraggs by
leading him up against a beating at the hands of a cannibal king,
and with the thought came a grim, hard chuckle, though there was
the look of a thousand devils in his eyes.
"Well, boys," he said huskily, "who's looney now?"
"What's to be done?" asked McGuffey.
"Well, Mac, old sporty boy, I guess there ain't much to do except
to make up our minds to die like gentlemen.
Pages:
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319