"I hadn't thought o' that at
all, Gib. I been cherishin' the thought o' lammin' the whey out'n
that mate, but if you say so I'll give up the idee. But if
bringin' the _Maggie II_ into home waters is invitin' death,
what in blue blazes're we goin' to do with her?"
Mr. Gibney smiled--an arch, cunning smile. "We'll give her to
that murderin' mate, free gratis."
Captain Scraggs bounded out of his chair, struck the hot deck
with his bare feet, cursed, and hopped back into the chair again.
McGuffey stared incredulously.
"Gib, my _dear_ boy," quavered Scraggs, "say that agin."
"Yes," continued the commodore placidly, "we'll just get shet o'
her peaceable like by givin' her to this mate. Don't forget,
Scraggsy, old tarpot, that this mate's been passin' himself off
for you in Honolulu, an' if there's ever an investigation, the
trail leads to the _Maggie II_. This mate's admitted being
Captain Scraggs, an' if he's found with the schooner in his
possession it'll take a heap o' evidence for him to prove that he
ain't Captain Scraggs. We'll just keep this here mate in the brig
while we're disposing of our black coral, pearl, shell, and copra
in Honolulu, an' then, when we've cleaned up, an' got our
passages booked for San Francisco----"
"But who says we're goin' back to San Francisco?" cut in
McGuffey.
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