some of the top gear and much
canvas; and what the crew had done during the week or more they had been
in port at Buenos Ayres.

Then Ben Gibson came off duty and called me aft. "Awful glad to see you,
Webb," he declared. "I'm fit as a fiddle now. Want you in my boat again.
We took on a lout at Buenos Ayres, who's had your berth; but he isn't
worth a hang in the boat. You're going to finish out the cruise, aren't
you?"

"I don't expect to, sir," I returned. "I would have been home long ago
if I had been wise. What I came down here for panned out nothing at
all."

"Well, Captain Hi will be glad to have you finish out the cruise, I
don't doubt. You better go below and see him," said the second mate.

Mr. Robbins shook hands with me before I went below and welcomed me
aboard. "We're going to make money in the old Scarboro this v'y'ge,
Webb," he said. "You'd better stick to the bark. Captain Hi is going to
discharge ile here at Punta Arenas and go into the Pacific with clean
tanks."

And so the skipper told me when I descended to the tiny chart room.
There would be a tramp freightship with a half cargo at Punta Arenas, he
said, and it had empty tanks aboard. All that was needed was to pump the
oil from the bark into the tramp's tanks.

"And we've got a good bit of bone and spermaceti, too," said Captain
Rogers. "I consider you one of the crew still, Webb. Or, if you are so
determined, you may pull out here and I will give you your hundred
dollars as I promised."

"I feel that I should go home. Captain," I assured him. "As I told Ben
in my note back there at Buenos Ayres, my money and letters were grabbed
at the consulate by another fellow----"

"Yes," interposed Captain Rogers, beginning to hunt in a drawer, "Ben
told me about that. And I went up to the consulate and had a talk with
Colonel Hefferan about it. The whole thing was a silly mistake on the
part of a clerk of his--a mighty fresh clerk. He went off half-cocked
and gave the money and letters over to that fellow without saying a word
to the consul himself. And they put you out of the consulate, too, I
understand?"

"They most certainly did," I replied.

"If you go to Buenos Ayres, just step in there and make that cheap clerk
beg your pardon. He's ready to. And here," said Captain Rogers,
suddenly, turning toward me, "is something that belongs to you, I
believe, Clint Webb."

There were several letters which he placed in my hand. The top one was
addr