"Surest thing you know, brother," shouted Mr. McGuffey and swatted the deluded mate between the shoulders. "Take her with our compliments. You was a good brave mate until you went wrong. I ain't forgot how you sprayed the hillsides with lead the day Gib an' Scraggsy was took by them cannibals. No, sir-ee! I ain't holdin' no grudge. It's human to commit crime. I've committed one or two myself. Good luck to you, matey. Hope you make a barrel o' money with the old girl." "Thanks," the mate mumbled. "I ain't deservin' o' this nohow," and he commenced to snivel a little. Mr. Gibney forgot that he was playing a hypocrite's part, and his generous nature overcame him. "Dog my cats," he blustered, "what's the use givin' him the vessel if we don't give him some spondulicks to outfit her with grub an' supplies? Poor devil! I bet he ain't got a cent to bless himself with. Scraggsy, old tarpot, if we're goin' to turn over a new leaf an' be Christians, let's sail under a full cloud o' canvas." "By Neptune, that's so, Gib. This feller did us an awful dirty trick, but at the same time there ain't a cowardly bone in his hull carcass. I ain't forgot how he stood to the guns that day off the Coronados when we was attacked by the Mexicans." "Stake the feller, Gib," advised McGuffey, and wiped away a vagrant tear. He was quite overcome at his own generosity and the manner in which it had touched the hard heart of the iniquitous mate. Mr. Gibney laid five one-hundred-dollar bills in the mate's palm. "Good-bye," he said gently, "an' see if you can't be as much of a man an' as good a sport hereafter as them you've wronged an' who's forgive you fully and freely." One by one the three freebooters of the green-pea trade pumped the stricken mate's hand, tossed him a scrap of advice, and went overside into the small boat which was to take them ashore. It was a solemn parting and Mr. Gibney and McGuffey were snuffling audibly. Captain Scraggs, however, was made of sterner stuff. "'Pears to me, Gib," he remarked when they were clear of the schooner, "that you're a little mite generous with the funds o' the syndicate, ain't you?" Mr. Gibney picked up a paddle and threatened Scraggs with it. "Dang your cold heart, Scraggs," he hissed, "you're un-Christian, that's what you are." "Quit yer beefin', you shrimp," bellowed McGuffey. "Them cannibals would have et you if it wasn't for that poor devil of a mate." Captain Scraggs snarled and remained discreetly silent. Nevertheless, he was in a fine rage. As he remarked _sotto voce_ to Neils Halvorsen, five hundred dollars wasn't picked up in the street every day. The next day, as the _Hilonian_ steamed out of the harbour, bearing the syndicate back to San Francisco, they looked across at the little _Maggie II_ for the last time, and observed that the mate was on deck, superintending three Kanaka sailors who were hoisting supplies aboard from a bumboat. Commodore Gibney bade his first command a misty farewell.