went up when Bull McGinty, roarin' like a sea lion, announces
that all hands is doomed, because two of the pumps is nix
comarous! Just about that time we ships a sea or two, and all
hands lets go the pumps and starts to pray or weep or whatever
they was minded to do under the circumstances. In the general
excitement I slips below an' plugs up one hole, an' forces two
men, at the point of a revolver that wasn't loaded, to pump ship.
They just managed to hold the water level, while up on deck Bull
is tearin' his hair an' cursin' somethin' frightful.

"Well, Mac, we kept that thing up for two days an' two nights,
while the gale lasted, an' when we finally gets under the lee of
an island, all hands are for throwin' up the sponge an' goin'
back home. Somehow or other, the expedition don't look so
enticin' as it did at first. We cleared away both whaleboats and
landed the brotherhood on the island, where there was a wharf an'
a big tradin' station. I forget what they call the place, but
steamers touch there regular. Me an' Bull McGinty and the
Chinaman stayed aboard, pumped out the ship, fixed the pumps, and
plugged the holes in her bottom so nobody could find out. Then we
figures out the price of a passage back to Frisco, second-class,
for the whole bunch, an' me an' Bull goes ashore with a big sack
of Chili dollars an' fixes it up with all hands to let go an'
call it square for the ticket home. They wasn't feelin' as sore
as much as you might imagine. None o' them had the brains or the
spunk of a mouse, and besides we'd give them a mighty good time
of it, all things considered. So, to make a long story short, we
picks up a crew of half a dozen black boys, pulls the two
whaleboats back to the ship, ups hook and sails away on our
legitimate business. We divides the spoils between us, an' my