"Shut up," bellowed Mr. Gibney. He was sniffing himself by this time, for as the launch swiftly approached the derelict the unpleasant odour became more pronounced. "Betcher that schooner was in collision with a steamer," Captain Scraggs announced. "She was cut down right through the fo'castle with the watch below sound asleep, an' this here fragrance appeals to me as a sure sign of a job for the coroner." The commodore shuddered. He was filled with vague misgivings, but Neils Halvorsen grinned cheerfully. McGuffey got out a cologne-scented handkerchief and clamped it across his nose. "Well, if that's Gib's fortune, it must be filthy lucre," he mumbled through the handkerchief. "Gib, what _have_ you hooked on to? A public dump?" Mr. Gibney's eyes flashed, but he made no reply. They had rounded the schooner's stern now, and her name was visible. "Schooner _Kadiak_, Seattle," read Scraggs. "Little old three sticker a thousand years old an' cut clear through just abaft the foremast. McGuffey, you don't s'pose this here's a pirate craft an' just bulgin' with gold." "Sure," retorted the engineer with a slow wink, "tainted wealth." Mr. Gibney could stand their heckling no longer. "Looky here, you two," he bawled angrily. "I got a hunch I picked up a lemon, but I'm a-willin' to tackle the deal with Neils if you two think I didn't do right by the syndicate a-runnin' up a bill of expense towing this craft into port. I ain't goin' to stand for no kiddin', even if we are in a five-hundred-dollar towage bill. Man is human an' bound to make mistakes." "Don't kid the commodore, Scraggsy. This aromer o' roses is more'n a strong man can stand, so cut out the josh." "All right, Mac. I guess the commodore's foot slipped this time, but I ain't squawkin' yet." "No. Not _yet_," cried Mr. Gibney bitterly, "but soon." "I ain't, nuther," Captain Scraggs assumed an air of injured virtue. "I'm a-willin' to go through with you, Gib, at a loss, for nothin' else except to convince you o' the folly o' makin' this a one-man syndicate. I ain't a-kickin', but I'm free to confess that I'd like to be consulted _oncet_ in a while." "That's logic," rumbled the single-minded McGuffey. "You dirty welchers," roared the commodore. "I ain't askin' you two to take chances with _me_. Me an' Neils'll take this deal over independent o' the syndicate." "Well, let's dress this here diver," retorted the cautious Scraggs, "an' send him into the hold for a look around before we make up our minds." Captain Scraggs was not a man to take chances. They moored the launch to the wreck and commenced operations. Mr. Gibney worked the air pump while the diver, ax in hand, dropped into the murky depths of the flooded hold. He was down half an hour before he signalled to be pulled up. All hands sprang to the line to haul him back to daylight, and the instant he popped clear of the water Mr. Gibney unburdened himself of an agonized curse.