alvorsen addressed.

"Aye bane want to see Cap'n Scraggs," he said.

The tall dark man stood erect and cast a quick, questioning look
at Neils Halvorsen. He hesitated before he made answer.

"What do you want?" he asked deliberately, and there was a subtle
menace in his tones. As for Neils Halvorsen, thinking only of the
surprise he had in store for his old employer, he replied
evasively:

"Aye bane want job."

"Well, I'm Captain Scraggs, and I haven't any job for you. Get
off my boat and wait until you're invited before you come aboard
again."

For nearly half a minute Neils Halvorsen stared open-mouthed at
the spurious Captain Scraggs, while slowly there sifted through
his brain the notion that he had happened across the track of a
deep and bloody mystery of the seas. There was "something rotten
in Denmark." Of that Neils Halvorsen was certain. More he could
not be certain of until he had paved the way for a complete
investigation, and as a preliminary step toward that end he
clinched his fist and sprang swiftly toward the bogus skipper.

"Aye tank you bane damn liar," he muttered, and struck home,
straight and true, to the point of the jaw. The man went down,
and in an instant Neils was on top of him. Off came the sailor's
belt, the hands of the half-stunned man were quickly tied behind
him, and before he had time to realize what had happened Neils
had cut a length of cord from a trailing halyard and tied his
feet securely, after which he gagged him with his bandana
handkerchief.

A quick circuit of the ship convinced Neils Halvorsen that the
remainder of the dastard crew were evidently ashore, so he
descended to the cabin in search of further evidence of crime. He
was quite prepared to find Captain Scraggs's master's certificate
in its familiar oaken frame, hanging on the cabin wall, but he
was dumfounded to observe, hanging on the wall in a similar and
equally familiar frame, the certificate of Adelbert P. Gibney as
first mate of steam or sail, any ocean and any tonnage. But still
a third framed certificate hung on the wall, and Neils again
scratched his head when he read the wording that set forth the
legal qualifications of Bartholomew McGuffey to hold down a job
as chief engineer of coastwise vessels up to 1,200 tons net
register.

It was patent, even to the dull-witted Swede, that there had been
foul play somewhere, and the schooner's log, lying open on the
table, seemed to offer the first means