't
exactly explained to all hands. If I'd a-known they was
charterin' the _Maggie_, I'd have blocked the game."

"Why?" demanded Captain Scraggs, instantly on the defensive.

"Not that I'm holdin' any grudge agin you, Scraggsy," said Mr.
Gibney affably, "but I wouldn't a-had you no more now than I
would when we was runnin' in the green-pea trade. It's because
you ain't got no imagination, and the _Maggie_ ain't big enough
for my purpose. Havin' the _Maggie_ sort of puts a crimp in my
plans."

"Rot," snapped Captain Scraggs. "I've had the _Maggie_ overhauled
and shipped a new wheel, and she's a mighty smart little boat,
I'll tell you. I'll land them arms in Descanso Bay all right."

"I know you will," said Mr. Gibney sadly. "That's just what
hurts. You see, Scraggsy, I never intended 'em for Descanso Bay
in the first place. There's a nice healthy little revolution
fomentin' down in the United States of Colombia, with Adelbert P.
Gibney playin' both ends to the middle. And there's a dog-hole
down on the Gold Coast where I intended to land this cargo, but
now that Scab Johnny's gone to work and sent me a bay scow
instead of a sea-goin' steamer, I'm in the nine-hole instead o'
dog-hole. I can never get as far as the Gold Coast with the
_Maggie_. She can't carry coal enough to last her."

"But I thought these guns and things was for the Mexicans,"
quavered Captain Scraggs. "Scab Johnny and Lopez told me they
was."

Mr. Gibney groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Scraggsy," he
said sadly, "it's a cinch you ain't used the past four years to
stimulate that imagination of yours. Of course they was purchased
for the Mexicans, but what was to prevent me from lettin' the
Mexicans pay for them, help out on the charter of the boat, and
then have me divert the cargo to the United States of Colombia,
where I can sell 'em at a clear profit, the cost bein' nothin' to
speak of? Now you got to come buttin' in with the _Maggie_, and
what happens? Why, I got to be honest, of course. I got to make
good on my bluff, and what's in it for me? Nothin' but glory. Can
you hock a chunk of glory for ham and eggs, Phineas Scraggs? Not
on your life. If it hadn't been for you buttin' in with your
blasted, rotten hulk of a fresh-water skiff, I'd----"

Mr. Gibney paused ominously and savagely bit the end of his
cigar. As for Captain Scraggs, every drop of blood in his body
was boiling in defense of the ship he loved.

"You're a pirate," he