contest absolutely untrained. As a result, the war had lasted
just two weeks, the leaders had been incontinently shot, and the
white-winged dove of peace had once more spread her pinions along
the borders of the Gold Coast.

Commodore Gibney was disgusted beyond measure, and at a special
meeting of the syndicate, called in the cabin of the _Maggie II_
that same evening, it was finally decided that they should embark
on an indefinite trading cruise in the South Seas, or until such
time as it seemed their services must be required to free a
downtrodden people from a tyrant's yoke.

Captain Scraggs and McGuffey had never been in the South Seas,
but they had heard that a fair margin of profit was to be wrung
from trade in copra, shell, cocoanuts, and kindred tropical
products. They so expressed themselves. To this suggestion,
however, Commodore Gibney waved a deprecating paw.

"Legitimate tradin', boys," he said, "is a nice, sane, healthy
business, but the profits is slow. What we want is quick profits,
and while it ain't set down in black and white, one of the
principal objects of this syndicate is to lead a life of wild
adventure. In tradin', there ain't no adventure to speak of. We
ought to do a little blackbirdin', or raid some of those Jap
pearl fisheries off the northern coast of Formosa."

"But we'll be chased by real gunboats if we do that," objected
Captain Scraggs. "Those Jap gunboats shoot to kill. Can't you
think of somethin' else, Gib?"