"I did. Likewise the cigar stands an' restaurants, an' the
readin' rooms of the Marine Engineers' Association."

"Guess he's out hustlin' a job," Mr. Gibney sighed. He was filled
with vague forebodings of evil. "If you'd only listened to my
advice last night, Scraggsy--if you'd only listened," he mourned.

"We'll cross our bridges when we come to them, Gib. Cheer up, my
boy, cheer up. I got a new engineer. He won't last, but he'll
last long enough for Mac to forget his grouch an' listen to
reason," and with this optimistic remark Captain Scraggs dropped
into the engine room to get up enough steam to keep the winch
working.

Promptly at twelve o'clock, the longshoremen knocked off work for
the lunch hour and Neils Halvorsen drifted across the street to
cool his parched throat with steam beer. While waiting for
Scraggs to come up out of the engine room, and take him to
luncheon, Mr. Gibney sauntered aft and was standing gazing
reflectively upon a spot on the _Maggie's_ stern where the
hawsers had chafed away the paint, when suddenly big forebodings
of evil returned to him a thousand fold stronger than they had
been since Scraggs's return to the little ship. He glanced up and
beheld gazing down upon him Captains Jack Flaherty and Daniel
Hicks. Battle was imminent and the valiant Gibney knew it;
wherefore he determined instantly to meet it like a man.

"Howdy, men," he saluted them. "Glad to have you aboard the
yacht," and he stepped backward to give himself fighting room.