"Captain Scraggs," the skipper of the _Chesapeake_ called feebly, "Mr. Gibney is right. That craft of yours is unable to tow my ship against this wind. You're losing ground, inch by inch, and it will be only a matter of an hour or two, if you hang on to me, before I'll be in the breakers and a total loss. You'll have to get sail on her or let go the anchor until a tug arrives." "I don't know a thing about a sailin' ship," Scraggs quavered. "I know it all," Mr. Gibney cut in, "but there ain't money enough in the world to induce me to exercise that knowledge to your profit." He turned to the master of the _Chesapeake_. "For one hundred dollars each, McGuffey an' I will sail her in for you, sir." "I'll not take the risk, Mr. Gibney. Captain Scraggs, if you will follow my instructions we'll get some sail on the _Chesapeake_. Take those lines through the leading blocks to the winch----" The engineer of the _Maggie_ came up on deck and waved his arms wildly. "Leggo," he bawled. "I've blown out two tubes. It'll be all I can do to get home without that tow." "Jump on that, Scraggsy," quoth McGuffey softly and cast his silken engineer's cap on the deck at Scraggs's feet. The latter's face was ashen as he turned to the skipper of the _Chesapeake_. "I'm through," he gulped. "I'll have to cast off. Your ship's drivin' on to the beach now." "Oh, say not so, Scraggsy," said Mr. Gibney softly, and with a blow of the hammer knocked out the stopper on the windlass and let the anchor go down by the run. "Not this voyage, at least." The _Chesapeake_ rounded up with a jerk and Mr. Gibney took Captain Scraggs gently by the arm. "Into the small boat, old ruin," he whispered, "and I'll row you an' The Squarehead back to the _Maggie_. If she drifts ashore with that load o' garden truck, you might as well drown yourself." Captain Scraggs was beyond words. He suffered himself to be taken back to the _Maggie_, after which kindly action Mr. Gibney returned to the _Chesapeake_, climbed aboard, and with the assistance of McGuffey, hauled the work boat up on deck. CHAPTER XIII "Now," Mr. Gibney inquired, approaching the skipper of the _Chesapeake_, "what'll you give me an' Mac, sir, to sail you in? Has it dawned on you, sir, that if I hadn't had sense enough to cockbill that anchor again you'd be on the beach this minute?" "One thousand dollars," the skipper answered weakly. "You refused to let us do it for a hundred. Now it'll cost you two thousand, an' I'm lettin' you off cheap at that. Of course, you can take a chance an' wait until word o' your predicament sifts into San Francisco an' a tug comes out for you, but in the meantime the wind may increase an' with the tide at the flood how do you know your anchor won't drag an' pile you up on them rocks to leeward?" "I'll pay two thousand, Mr. Gibney."