Captain Scraggs Part 39

Captain Scraggs departed to draw up the formal bill of sale and Mr. Gibney, drawing The Squarehead and McGuffey to him, favoured each with a searching glance and said:

"Gentlemen, did it ever occur to you that there's money in the chicken business?"

It had! Both McGuffey and Neils admitted it. There are few men in this world who have not, at some period of their lives, held the same view, albeit the majority of those who have endeavoured to demonstrate that fact have subsequently changed their minds.

"I thought as much," the commodore grinned. "If I was to let you two out o' my sight for a day you'd both be flat busted the day after. So we won't buy no farm an' go in for chickens. We'll sell the _Victor_ an' buy a little tradin' schooner. Then we'll go back to the South Seas an' earn a legitimate livin'."

"But why'll we sell the _Victor_?" McGuffey demanded. "Gib, she's a love of a boat."

"Because I've just had a talk with the owners o' the two opposition lines an' they, knowin' me to be chummy with you an'

Scraggsy, give me the tip to tell you two that you could have your choice o' two propositions--a rate war or a sale o' the _Victor_ for ten thousand dollars. That gets you out clean an'

saves your original capital, an' it gits Scraggsy out the same way, while nettin' me an' Neils five hundred each."

"A rate war would ruin us," McGuffey agreed. "In addition to sourin' Scraggsy's disposition until he wouldn't be fit to live with. Gib, you're a wonder."

"I know it," Mr. Gibney replied.

Within two hours Captain Scraggs's half interest had pa.s.sed into the hands of McGuffey, and half an hour later the _Victor_ had pa.s.sed into the hands of the opposition lines, to be operated for the joint profit of the latter. Later in the day all four members of the syndicate met in the Bowhead saloon, where Mr. Gibney explained the deal to Captain Scraggs. The latter was dumfounded.

"I had to fox you into selling," the commodore confessed.

"But how about them defunct codfish, Gib?"

"I got the new owners to agree to tow 'em up at a reasonable figger. When I've cleaned up that deal, we'll buy a schooner an'

run South again."

"You'll run without me, Gib," Scraggs declared emphatically.

"I've had a-plenty o' the dark blue for mine. I got a little stake now, so I'm going to look around an' invest in a----"

"A chicken ranch," McGuffey interrupted.

"Right-O, Bart. How'd you guess it?"

"Imagination," quoth McGuffey, tapping his forehead, "imagination, Scraggsy."

Something told Mr. Gibney that it would be just as well if he did not insist upon having Scraggs as a member of his crew. So he did not insist. In the afternoon of life Mr. Gibney was acquiring common sense.

Three weeks later Mr. Gibney had purchased, for account of his now abbreviated syndicate, the kind of power schooner he desired, and the Inspectors gave him a ticket as master. With The Squarehead as mate and Mr. McGuffey as engineer and general utility man, the little schooner cleared for Pago Pago on a day when Captain Scraggs was too busy buying incubators to come down to the dock and see them off.

And for aught the chronicler of this tale knows to the contrary, the syndicate may be sailing in that self-same schooner to this very day.

THE END

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