"Well," said Mr. Gibney, "for a starter, I can. Suppose we just
head straight for Kandavu Island in the Fijis, and scheme around
for a cargo of black coral? It's only worth about fifty dollars a
pound. Kandavu lays somewhere in latitude 22 south, longitude 178
west, and when I was there last it was fair reekin' with cannibal
savages. But there's tons of black coral there, and nobody's ever
been able to sneak in and get away with it. Every time a boat
used to land at Kandavu, the native niggers would have a
white-man stew down on the beach, and it's got so that skippers
give the island a wide berth."

"Gib, my _dear_ boy," chattered Captain Scraggs, "I'm a man of
peace and I--I----"

"Scraggsy, old stick-in-the-mud," said Mr. Gibney, laying an
affectionate hand on the skipper's shoulder, "you're nothin' of
the sort. You're a fightin' tarantula, and nobody knows it
better'n Adelbert P. Gibney. I've seen you in action, Scraggsy.
Remember that. It's all right for you to say you're a man of
peace and advise me and McGuffey to keep out of the track of
trouble, but we know that away down low you're goin' around
lookin' for blood, and that once you're up agin the enemy, you
never bat an eyelash. Eh, McGuffey?"

McGuffey nodded; whereupon, Captain Scraggs, making but a poor
effort to conceal the pleasure which Mr. Gibney's rude compliment
afforded him, turned to the rail, glanced seaward, and started to
walk away to attend to some trifling detail connected with the
boat falls.