p a fight, Gib?"

"No, but he tried to, Mac. I'll tell the world he did," and he
thrust out the hand of forgiveness to Scraggsy, who, realizing he
had come very handsomely out of an unlovely situation, clasped
the hands of Mr. Gibney and McGuffey and burst into tears. While
Mr. McGuffey thumped him between the shoulder blades and cursed
him affectionately, Mr. Gibney retired to change into dry
garments; when he reappeared the trio went ashore for the
promised grog and a luncheon at the skipper's expense.

CHAPTER IX

A week had elapsed and nothing of an eventful nature had
transpired to disturb the routine of life aboard the _Maggie_,
until Bartholomew McGuffey, having heard certain waterfront
whispers, considered it the part of prudence to lay his
information before Scraggs and Mr. Gibney.

"Look here, Scraggs," he began briskly. "It's all fine an' dandy
to promise me a new boiler, but when do I git it?"

"Why, jes' as soon as we can get this glut o' freight behind us,
Bart, my boy. The way it's pilin' up on us now, what with this
bein' the height o' the busy season an' all, it stands to reason
we got to wait a while for dull times before layin' the _Maggie_
up."

"What's the matter with orderin' the new boiler now so's to have
it ready to chuck into her over the week-end," McGuffey
suggested. "There needn't be no great delay."

"As owner o' the _Maggie_," Scraggs reminded him with just a
touch of asperity, "you've got to leave these details to me.
You've managed with the old boiler this long, so it 'pears to me
you might be patient an' bear with it a mite longer, Bart."

"Oh, I ain't tryin' to be disagreeable, Scraggs, only it sort o'
worries me to have to go along without bein' able to use our
whistle. We got a reputation for joggin' right along, mindin'
our business an' never replyin' to them vessels that whistle us
they're goin' to pass to port or starboard, as the case may be.
Of course when they whistle, we know what they're goin' to do,
but the trouble is _they_ don't know what we're goin' to do. Dan
Hicks an' Jack Flaherty's been makin' a quiet brag that one o'
these days or nights they'll take advantage o' this well-known
peculiarity of ourn to collide with the _Maggie_ an' sink us, and
in that case we wouldn't have no defense an' no come-back in a
court of law. Me, I don't feel like drownin' in that engine room
or gettin' cut in half by the bow o' the _Bodega_ or the
_Aphrodite_. Conseque