Captain Scraggs

Captain Scraggs

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Scraggs, by Peter B. Kyne
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Title: Captain Scraggs or, The Green-Pea Pirates
Author: Peter B. Kyne
Illustrator: Gordon Grant
Release Date: May 29, 2006 [EBook #18469]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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SCRAGGS ***

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[Illustration: "Captain Scraggs threw his brown derby on the deck and
leaped upon it."]
CAPTAIN SCRAGGS

OR
THE GREEN-PEA PIRATES
BY PETER B. KYNE
AUTHOR OF CAPPY RICKS, THE LONG CHANCE, THE
VALLEY OF THE GIANTS, WEBSTER--MAN'S MAN, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
GORDON GRANT
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1911, 1912, 1913, 1914, 1919, BY PETER B. KYNE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE
PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SUNSET MAGAZINE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Captain Scraggs threw his brown derby on the deck and leaped upon
it" Frontispiece (See page 6)
FACING PAGE
"'Great Snakes!' he yelled--and fell back against the cabin wall" 156
"Captain Scraggs ... broke from the circle of savages ... and fled for the
beach" 232

"Tabu-Tabu ... planted a mighty right in the centre of Mr. Gibney's
physiognomy" 252

CAPTAIN SCRAGGS
OR
THE GREEN-PEA PIRATES
CHAPTER I
They had seen the fog rolling down the coast shortly after the Maggie
had rounded Pilar Point at sunset and headed north. Captain Scraggs
has been steamboating too many unprofitable years on San Francisco
Bay, the Suisun and San Pablo sloughs and dogholes and the
Sacramento River to be deceived as to the character of that fog, and he
remarked as much to Mr. Gibney. "We'd better turn back to Halfmoon
Bay and tie up at the dock," he added.
"Calamity howler!" retorted Mr. Gibney and gave the wheel a spoke or
two. "Scraggsy, you're enough to make a real sailor sick at the
stomach."
"But I tell you she's a tule fog, Gib. She rises up in the marshes of the
Sacramento and San Joaquin, drifts down to the bay and out the Golden
Gate and just naturally blocks the wheels of commerce while she lasts.
Why, I've known the ferry boats between San Francisco and Oakland to
get lost for hours on their twenty-minute run--and all along of a blasted
tule fog."
"I don't doubt your word a mite, Scraggsy. I never did see a ferry-boat
skipper that knew shucks about sailorizing," the imperturbable Gibney
responded. "Me, I'll smell my way home in any tule fog."
"Maybe you can an' maybe you can't, Gib, although far be it from me to
question your ability. I'll take it for granted. Nevertheless, I ain't a-goin'
to run the risk o' you havin' catarrh o' the nose an' confusin' your smells

to-night. You ain't got nothin' at stake but your job, whereas if I lose
the Maggie I lose my hull fortune. Bring her about, Gib, an' let's hustle
back."
"Don't be an old woman," Mr. Gibney pleaded. "Scraggs, you just ain't
got enough works inside you to fill a wrist watch."
"I ain't a-goin' to poke around in the dark an' a tule fog, feelin' for the
Golden Gate," Captain Scraggs shrilled peevishly.
"Hell's bells an' panther tracks! I've got my old courses, an' if I foller
them we can't help gettin' home."
Captain Scraggs laid his hand on Mr. Gibney's great arm and tried to
smile paternally. "Gib, my dear boy," he pleaded, "control yourself.
Don't argue with me, Gib. I'm master here an' you're mate. Do I make
myself clear?"
"You do, Scraggsy. But it won't avail you nothin'. You're only master
becuz of a gentleman's agreement between us two, an' because I'm man
enough to figger there's certain rights due you as owner o' the Maggie.
But don't you forget that accordin' to the records o' the Inspector's
office, I'm master of the Maggie, an' the way I figger it, whenever
there's any call to show a little real seamanship, that gentleman's
agreement don't stand."
"But this ain't one o' them times, Gib."
"You're whistlin' it is. If we run from this here fog, it's skiffs to
battleships we don't get into San Francisco Bay an' discharged before
six o'clock to-morrow night. By the time we've taken on coal an' water
an' what-all, it'll be eight or nine o'clock, with me an' McGuffey
entitled to mebbe three dollars overtime an' havin' to argue an' scrap
with you to git it--not to speak o' havin'