"Well, all I got to remark is that it takes a smart man to raise
both anchors when we only got one anchor to our blessed name. An'
with that anchor safe on the fo'castle head, I, for one, can't
see no sense in raisin' it."

"You tarnation jackass!" sighed Gibney. "You forget who we are.
Do you s'pose the steamer _Yankee Prince_ can lay on the beach
all night with both anchors out, an' then be got ready to tow off
in three shakes of a lamb's tail? It takes noise to get up two
anchors--so I'm makin' all the noise I can. Got any steam?"

"Eighty pounds," Scraggs confessed. Having for the moment
forgotten his identity, he was confused in the presence of the
superior intelligence of his navigating officer.

"Run aft, then, Scraggs, an' turn that cargo winch over to beat
the band until I tell you to stop. With the drum runnin' free
she'll make noise enough for a winch three times her size, but
you might give the necessary yells to make it more lifelike."

Captain Scraggs fled to the winch. At the end of five minutes,
Mr. Gibney appeared and bade him desist. Then, turning, his
improvised megaphone seaward he addressed an imaginary mate: "Mr.
Thompson, have you got your port anchor up?"

Scraggs took the cue immediately. "All clear forward, sir," he
piped.

"Send the bosun for'd an' heave the lead, Mr. Thompson."