charge of the
situation. "Anybody else?"

"Sure," Dag Daughtry sneered to his face. "I reckon what's left of the
beer goes with my boat . . . unless you want to argue the matter."

"For two cents--" Nishikanta spluttered in affected rage.

"Not for two billion cents would you risk a scrap with me, you
money-sweater, you," was Daughtry's retort. "You've got their goats, but
I've got your number. Not for two billion billion cents would you excite
me into callin' it right now.--Big John! Just carry that case of beer
across, an' that half case, and store in my boat.--Nishikanta, just start
something, if you've got the nerve."

Simon Nishikanta did not dare, nor did he know what to do; but he was
saved from his perplexity by the shout:

"Here she comes!"

All rushed to holding-ground, and held, while the whale broke more
timbers and the _Mary Turner_ rolled sluggishly down and back again.

"Lower away! On the run! Lively!"

Captain Doane's orders were swiftly obeyed. The starboard boat, fended
off by sailors, rose and fell in the water alongside while the remainder
of the dunnage and provisions showered into her.

"Might as well lend a hand, sir, seein' you're bent on leaving in such a
hurry," said Daughtry, taking the chronometer from Captain Doane's hand
and standing ready to pass it down to him as soon as he was in the boat.

"Come on, Greenleaf," Grimshaw called up to the Ancient Mariner.

"No, thanking you very kindly, sir," came the reply. "I think there'll
be more room in the other boat."

"We want the cook!" Nishikanta cried out from the stern sheets. "Come
on, you yellow monkey! Jump in!"

Little old shrivelled Ah Moy debated. He visibly thought, although none
knew the intrinsicness of his thinking as he stared at the gun of the fat
pawnbroker and at the leprosy of Kwaque and Daughtry, and weighed the one
against the other and tossed the light and heavy loads of the two boats
into the balance.

"Me go other boat," said Ah Moy, starting to drag his bag away across the
deck.

"Cast off," Captain Doane commanded.

Scraps, the big Newfoundland puppy, who had played and pranced about
through all the excitement, seeing so many of the _Mary Turner's_ humans
in the boat alongside, sprang over the rail, low and close to the water,
and landed sprawling on the mass of sea-bags and goods cases.

The boot rocked, and Nishikanta, his automatic in his hand, cried out:

"Back with him! Throw him o