wringing out his shirt-sleeve, wet from rescue of the oar.

"You've got good ears, my man," began the first officer.

"And a quick fist," the other snapped in.

"And a ready tongue."

"Need it in my business. No gettin' 'long without it among you
sea-sharks. Pirate, am I? And you with a thousand passengers packed
like sardines! Charge 'em double first-class passage, feed 'em
steerage grub, and bunk 'em worse 'n pigs! Pirate, eh! Me?"

A red-faced man thrust his head over the rail above and began to bellow
lustily.

"I want my stock landed! Come up here, Mr. Thurston! Now! Right
away! Fifty cayuses of | mine eating their heads off in this dirty
kennel of yours, and it'll be a sick time you'll have if you don't
hustle them ashore as fast as God'll let you! I'm losing a thousand
dollars a day, and I won't stand it! Do you hear? I won't stand it!
You've robbed me right and left from the time you cleared dock in
Seattle, and by the hinges of hell I won't stand it any more! I'll
break this company as sure as my name's Thad Ferguson! D'ye hear my
spiel? I'm Thad Ferguson, and you can't come and see me any too quick
for your health! D'ye hear?"

"Pirate; eh?" the boatman soliloquized. "Who? Me?"

Mr. Thurston waved his hand appeasingly at the red-faced man, and