The freebooter of the green-pea trade touched his wet forelock respectfully. "My name is Gibney, sir, an' I hold an unlimited license as first mate of sail or steam. I was passin' up the coast on a good-for-nothin' little bumboat, an' seen you in distress, so me an' a friend swum over to give you the double O. You're in a bad way, sir." "Two hundred and eighty-seven days from Hamburg, Mr. Gibney. Our vegetables gave out and we drank too much rain water and ate too much fresh fish down in the Doldrums. Our potatoes all went rotten before we were out two months. Naturally, the ship's officers stuck it out longest, but when we drifted in here this morning, I was the only man aboard able to stand up. I crawled up on the to'-gallan'-fo'castle and let go the starboard anchor. I'd had it cock-billed for three weeks. All I had to do was knock out the stopper." While Mr. Gibney questioned him and listened avidly to the horrible tale of privation and despair, McGuffey appeared to report a brisk fire under the donkey and to promise steam in forty minutes; also that the _Maggie_ was hove to a cable length distant, with her crew digging under the deckload of vegetables for the small boat. "Help yourself to a belayin' pin, Bart, an' knock 'em on the heads if they try to come aboard," Mr. Gibney ordered nonchalantly. "Do I understand there is a steamer at hand, Mr. Gibney?" the master of the _Chesapeake_ queried. "There's an excuse for one, sir. The little vegetable freighter _Maggie_. She'll never be able to tow you in, because she ain't got power enough, an' if she had power enough she ain't got coal enough. Besides, Scraggs, her owner, is a rotten bad article an' before he'll put a rope aboard you he'll tie you up on a contract for a figger that'd make an angel weep. The way your ship lies an' everything, me an' McGuffey can sail her in for you at half the price." "I can't risk my ship in the hands of two men," the sick captain answered. "She's too valuable and so is her cargo. If this little steamer will tow me in I'll gladly give her my towline and let the court settle the bill." "Not by a million," Mr. Gibney protested. "Beg pardon, sir, but you don't know this here Scraggs like I do. I couldn't think of lettin' him set foot on this deck." "_You_ couldn't think of it? Well, when did _you_ take command of _my_ ship?" "You're flotsam an' jetsam, sir, an' practically in the breakers. You're sick, an', for all I know, delirious, so for the sake o' protectin' you, the sick seaman in the fo'castle an' the owners, I'm takin' command." The master of the _Chesapeake_ reached under his pillow and produced a pistol. "Out of my cabin or I'll riddle you," he barked feebly.