"I ain't a-goin' to poke around in the dark an' a tule fog, feelin' for the Golden Gate," Captain Scraggs shrilled peevishly. "Hell's bells an' panther tracks! I've got my old courses, an' if I foller them we can't help gettin' home." Captain Scraggs laid his hand on Mr. Gibney's great arm and tried to smile paternally. "Gib, my _dear_ boy," he pleaded, "control yourself. Don't argue with me, Gib. I'm master here an' you're mate. Do I make myself clear?" "You do, Scraggsy. But it won't avail you nothin'. You're only master becuz of a gentleman's agreement between us two, an' because I'm man enough to figger there's certain rights due you as owner o' the _Maggie_. But don't you forget that accordin' to the records o' the Inspector's office, I'm master of the _Maggie_, an' the way I figger it, whenever there's any call to show a little real seamanship, that gentleman's agreement don't stand." "But this ain't one o' them times, Gib." "You're whistlin' it is. If we run from this here fog, it's skiffs to battleships we don't get into San Francisco Bay an' discharged before six o'clock to-morrow night. By the time we've taken on coal an' water an' what-all, it'll be eight or nine o'clock, with me an' McGuffey entitled to mebbe three dollars overtime an' havin' to argue an' scrap with you to git it--not to speak o' havin' to put to sea the same night so's to be back in Halfmoon Bay to load bright an' early next mornin'. Scraggsy, I ain't no night bird on this run." "Do you mean to defy me, Gib?" Captain Scraggs' little green eyes gleamed balefully. Mr. Gibney looked down upon him with tolerance, as a Great Dane gazes upon a fox terrier. "I certainly do, Scraggsy, old pepper-pot," he replied calmly. "What're you goin' to do about it?" The ghost of a smile lighted his jovial countenance. "Nothin'--now. I'm helpless," Captain Scraggs answered with deadly calm. "But the minute we hit the dock you an' me parts company." "I don't know whether we will or not, Scraggsy. I ain't heeled right financially to hit the beach on such short notice." "That ain't no skin off'n my nose, Gib." "Well, you can fire all you want, but you won't fire me. I won't go." "I'll get the police to remove you, you blistered pirate," Scraggs screamed, now quite beside himself. "Yes? Well, the minute they let go o' me I'll come back to the S.S. _Maggie_ and tear her apart just to see what makes her go." He leaned out the pilot house window and sniffed. "Tule fog, all right, Scraggs. Still, that ain't no reason why the ship's company should fast, is it? Quit bickerin' with me, little one, an' see if you can't wrastle up some ham an' eggs. I want my eggs sunny side up." Sensing the futility of further argument, Captain Scraggs sought solace in a stream of adjectival opprobrium, plainly meant for Mr. Gibney but delivered, nevertheless, impersonally. He closed the pilot house door furiously behind him and started for the galley.