_Maggie_ had entered the fog; following her custom she proceeded
in absolute silence, although as a partial offset to the extreme
liability to collision with other coastwise craft, due to the
non-whistling rule aboard the _Maggie_, Mr. Gibney had laid a
course half a mile inside the usual steamer lanes, albeit due to
his overwhelming desire for peace he had neglected to inform his
owner of this; the honest fellow proceeded upon the hypothesis
that what people do not know is not apt to trouble them.

Mr. McGuffey was already seated and disposing of his meal when
Mr. Gibney entered. "Gib," he declared with his mouth full,
"rinse the taste o' chewin' tobacco out o' your mouth before
startin' to eat, an' then tell me, as man to man, if them eggs is
fit for human consumption."

Mr. Gibney conformed with the engineer's request. "Eatable but
venerable," was his verdict. "That infernal Scraggs is tryin' to
make the _Maggie_ pay dividends at the expense of our stomachs."

"_And_ at the risk of our lives, Gib. I move we declare a
strike until Scraggs digs up the money to overhaul the boiler.
Just before we slipped into the fog I saw two steam schooners
headed south--so they must 'a' seen us headed north. Jes' listen
at them a-bellerin' off there to port. They're a-watchin' and
a-listenin', expectin' to cut us down at every turn o' the screw.
First thing you know, Gib, you'll be losin' your ticket for
failin' to be courteous on the high seas."

"Six o' one an' half a dozen o' the other, Bart. If I whistle
I'll use up all your steam, an', then if we should find ourselves