The Owosso times., 1922-04-21

But, Glib, my dear boy" protested
Captain Scraggs, "this is insanity"
II know It," said Mr.. Gibney calmly.
"Scraggsy, you're perfectly right. But
I'd sooner die fightin' than let them
stand me up agin a wall I'm Ensenada.
We're filibusters, Scraggsy, and we're
caught with the goods. l, for one, am
goin' down with the steamer Maggie,
but I'm goin' down fightin' like a
bear"
"Maybe-maybe we can outrun her,
Glib" half sobbed Captain Scraggs.
mo hope" replied Mr.. Gibney.
Fight and die Is the last resort.
She's eight miles astern and gainin'
every minute, and when she's within
two miles she'll open fire. Of course.
we won't be hit unless they've got a
| Yankee gunner aboard"
Lets run up the Stars and Stripes
| and dare 'em to fire on u.s." said Cap
| tain Scraggs.
NO" said Mr.. Gibney firmly, my
old man died for the flag an I've
| sailed under it too long to hide be-
hind 1t when I'm in Dutch. Wen
| fight. If you was ever navigatn' Of
ficer on Colombian gunbOat, Scraggs
you'd realize what 1t means to run
from a Mexican"
Captain Scraggs said nothing fur
ther. Perhaps he was a little ashamed
Of himself in the face of Mr. Glib
| ney's simple faith In his own ability !;
perhaps in his veins, all unknown,
there flowed taint of the heroic
blood of some forgotten sea-dog. Be
that as 1t may, something did swell
In his breast when Mr.. Gibney spoke
Of the flag and his scorning to hide
behind it, and Scraggs' snaggle teeth
came together with a snap.
"All right, Glib, my boy" he said
solemnly, "Im with you. Mrs. Scraggs
has slipped her cable and there amt
nobody to mourn for me. But If we
can't fight under the Stars and Stripes,
by the tail of the Great Sacred Bull,
we'll have flag of our own," and
leaving Mr.. Gibney and the crew to
get the guns on deck, Captain Scraggs
ran below. He appeared on deck pres
emily with long blue burgee on which
was emblazoned in white letters the
single word Maggie. 1t was his own
housefiag and with trembling hands
he ran 1t to the fore and cast its
wrinkled folds to the breeze of heaven.
coed old dishcloth !" shrieked Mr..
Gibney. "She never comes down."
I'D If she does," said Captain
Scraggs profanely.
While all this was going on, deck
hand had reeved a block and tackle
through the end of the cargo gaff
and passed 1t to the winch. The two
guns came out Of the hold in Jig time,
and while Scraggs and one deckhand
opened the after hold and got out am
munition for the guns, Mr.. Gibney, as
sisted by the other deckhand, pro-
ceeded to put one of the guns to-
gether. He was shrewd enough to
realize that he would have to do prac-
tically all Of the work of serving the
gun himself, in view of which cond-
tion one gun would have to defend
the Maggie. He had never seen a
mountain gun before, but he did not
find it difficult to put the simple me-
chanism together
Now, then, Scraggsy," he an
nOunced cheerfully when the gun was
finally assembled on the carriage,
'get sizeable timber an spike it to
the center o. the deck. Til run the
trail spade up against that cleat an
thatll keep the recoil from lettin' the
gun go backward, clean through the
opposite rail and overheard. Gimme
a coupler gallons o. distilate an some
waste, somebody This cOsmoline's
got to come out o. the tube an out o.
the breech mechanism before we COM
mence shootin'."
The enemy had approached within
three miles by the time the piece was
ready for action. Under Mr.. Gibney's
instructions Captain Scraggs held the
fuse setter In case 1t should be nec-
essary to adjust with shrapnel. Mr.
Gibney inserted his sights and took
preliminary squint. "A little differ
ent from gun-pointin' in the navy, but
about the same principle" he declared
"1n the army / believe they call this
kind o. shootin' direct fire, because
you sight direct on the target" He
scratched his ingenious head and ex-
amined the ammunition. mot a high
explosive shell In the lot" he mourned.
"Tll have to use percussion fire to get
the range; then I'll drop back a little
an spray her with shrapnel. Seems
a pity to smash up fine schooner
like that one with percussion fire. I'd
rather tickle 'em up bit with
shrapnel an scare em into runnin'
away"
He got out the lanyard, slipped
cartridge 70 the breech, paused, and
scratched his head again. His calm
deliberation was driving Scraggs
crazy. He reminded Mr.. Gibney with
some asperity that they were, not at
tending strawberry festival and for
the love Of heaven to get busy.
"I'n estimatin' the range, you
sn,pe," Gibney retorted. Looks to be
about three miles to me. A little long.