"Here, First Mate, swing the Greyhound round aft, while I throw you a line!"
The only line in sight was twenty feet or so of logging-chain. It was too much for the strength of the pirate Captain.
"Give you a hand, Cap'n?" mildly inquired the engineer, lighting up his pipe as he came forward.
"Thanks, yes," responded the pirate chief, with a loftiness of tone that all but took the old engineer's breath away.
"Keep an eye out, men, for treach'ry!" came the shrill cry of their leader, as he ordered his crew once more on board their ship.
But the warning was uncalled for, and somewhat regretted when once it was uttered, for with his own hand the resigned old engineer slipped the chain through the iron-cased hawse-hole of the Greyhound and made his tug fast to her stern.
As he climbed languidly on board again the wheelsman appeared, smoking a bilious-hued cheroot.
"What 's all this here monkey work mean?" he demanded angrily.
"Shh, Bill!" the engineer cried, holding up
