was begun. As she hauled away from the wharf, Messrs. Gibney and
McGuffey might have been observed seated on the stern bitts
smoking, the picture of contentment. Pirates under the law they
might be, but of this they knew nothing and cared less. With
them, self-preservation was, indeed, the first law of human
nature.

They were still seated on the stern bitts as the _Maggie_ came
abreast the Point Montara fog signal station, when Mr. Gibney
observed a long telescope poking out the side window of the pilot
house. "Hello," he muttered, "Scraggsy's seein' things," and
following the direction in which the telescope was pointing he
made out a large bark standing in dangerously close to the beach.
In fact, the breakers were tumbling in a long white streak over
the reefs less than a quarter of a mile from her. She was lying
stern on to the beach, with one anchor out.

In an instant all was excitement aboard the _Maggie_. "That looks
like an elegant little pick-up. She's plumb deserted," Scraggs
shouted to his navigating officer. "I don't see any distress
signals flyin' an' yet she's got an anchor out while her canvas
is hangin' so-so."

"If she had any hands aboard, you'd think they'd have sense
enough to clew up her courses," the mate answered.

At this juncture, Mr. Gibney and McGuffey, unable to restrain
their curiosity, and forgetful of the fact that they were pirates
with very sore feet, came running over the deckload and invaded
the pilot house. "Gimme that glass, you sock-eyed salmon, you,"