"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.
Mr. Gibney departed without a word of protest and proceeded to make his arrangements, regardless of the master's consent. As he and McGuffey busied themselves, laying the leading blocks along the deck, they glanced toward the Maggie and observed Captain Scraggs hurling crates of vegetables overboard in an effort to get at the small boat quickly. "He'll die when the freight claims come in," Mr. McGuffey chortled. "Poor ol' Scraggsy!"
"How're we goin' to git that durned anchor up, Gib?"
"We ain't goin' to get it up. We're goin' to knock out a shackle in the chain an' let her go to glory."
"Anchors is expensive, Gib. Mebbe they'll deduct the price o' that anchor from our salvage."
"By Jupiter, you're talkin', Mac. We'll just save that anchor, come to think of it."
"How?"
"Just let Scraggsy an' The Squarehead come aboard an' put the ship's towin' cable aboard the Maggie. The Maggie'll just about be able to hold her while us four up with the anchor—an' cockbill it agin!"
"They got the skiff overside," McGuffey warned.