Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Alison Bush and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: "_Captain Scraggs threw his brown derby on the deck and leaped upon it._"] CAPTAIN SCRAGGS OR THE GREEN-PEA PIRATES BY PETER B. KYNE AUTHOR OF CAPPY RICKS, THE LONG CHANCE, THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS, WEBSTER--MAN'S MAN, ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY GORDON GRANT GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1911, 1912, 1913, 1914, 1919, BY PETER B. KYNE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y. ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SUNSET MAGAZINE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "Captain Scraggs threw his brown derby on the deck and leaped upon it" _Frontispiece_ (_See page 6_) FACING PAGE "'Great Snakes!' he yelled--and fell back against the cabin wall" 156 "Captain Scraggs ... broke from the circle of savages ... and fled for the beach" 232 "Tabu-Tabu ... planted a mighty right in the centre of Mr. Gibney's physiognomy" 252 CAPTAIN SCRAGGS OR THE GREEN-PEA PIRATES CHAPTER I They had seen the fog rolling down the coast shortly after the _Maggie_ had rounded Pilar Point at sunset and headed north. Captain Scraggs has been steamboating too many unprofitable years on San Francisco Bay, the Suisun and San Pablo sloughs and dogholes and the Sacramento River to be deceived as to the character of that fog, and he remarked as much to Mr. Gibney. "We'd better turn back to Halfmoon Bay and tie up at the dock," he added. "Calamity howler!" retorted Mr. Gibney and gave the wheel a spoke or two. "Scraggsy, you're enough to make a real sailor sick at the stomach." "But I tell you she's a tule fog, Gib. She rises up in the marshes of the Sacramento and San Joaquin, drifts down to the bay and out the Golden Gate and just naturally blocks the wheels of commerce while she lasts. Why, I've known the ferry boats between San Francisco and Oakland to get lost for hours on their twenty-minute run--and all along of a blasted tule fog." "I don't doubt your word a mite, Scraggsy. I never did see a ferry-boat skipper that knew shucks about sailorizing," the imperturbable Gibney responded. "Me, I'll smell my way home in any tule fog." "Maybe you can an' maybe you can't, Gib, although far be it from me to question your ability. I'll take it for granted. Nevertheless, I ain't a-goin' to run the risk o' you havin' catarrh o' the nose an' confusin' your smells to-night. You ain't got nothin' at stake but your job, whereas if I lose the _Maggie_ I lose my hull fortune. Bring her about, Gib, an' let's hustle back." "Don't be an old woman," Mr. Gibney pleaded. "Scraggs, you just ain't got enough works inside you to fill a wrist watch."