"Right-O," said Mr. Gibney, and turned to walk down the beach to
the boat. A second later a hoarse scream of rage and terror broke
from his lips.

"What's up?" cried McGuffey, the laughter dying out of his voice,
for there was a hint of death in Mr. Gibney's cry.

"Marooned!" said the commodore hoarsely. "Those two sailors have
pulled back to the schooner, and--there--look, Mac! My Gawd!"

McGuffey looked, and his face went whiter than the foaming
breakers beyond which he could see the _Maggie II_, under full
sail, headed for the open sea. The small boat had been picked up,
and there was no doubt that at her present rate of speed the
schooner would be hull down on the horizon by sunset.

"The murderin' hound," whispered McGuffey, and sagged down on the
sands. "Oh, the murderin' hound of a mate!"

"It's--it's mutiny," gulped Captain Scraggs in a hard, strained
voice. "That bloody fiend of a mate! The sly sneak-thief, with
his pleasant smile and his winnin' ways! Saw a chance to steal
the _Maggie_ and her rich cargo, and he is leavin' us here,
marooned on a desert island, with _two cannibals_."

Captain Scraggs fairly shrieked the last two words and burst into
tears. "Lord, Gib, old man," he raved, "whatever will we do?"

Thus appealed to, the doughty commodore permitted his two
unmatched optics to rest mournfully upon his shipmates. For