SALVAGE
Mr. Anthony T. Hyatt, attorney-at-law, leaned smilingly back in a
swivel-chair, matched ten pudgy fingers together and smiled expansively
at his clients. There was a great deal of Mr. Hyatt, and much of it lay
directly behind his clasped hands. He had a large, round face in the
centre of which a small, sharp nose surmounted a wide mouth and was
flanked by a pair of pale brown eyes at once innocent and shrewd. Steve
counted three chins and was not certain there wasn't another tucked away
behind the collar of the huge shirt. Mr. Hyatt had a deep and mellow
voice, and his words rolled and rumbled out like the reverberations of a
good-natured thunder storm. From the windows of the bright, breeze-swept
office the boys could look far out to sea, and it was possible that the
faintly nautical atmosphere that appertained both to the office and its
occupant was due to the sight and smell of the salt water. While Steve
told his story the lawyer's expression slowly changed from jovial
amusement to surprise, and when the narrative was ended he drew himself
ponderously from the chair and rolled to a window.
"You say you've got her tied up to Sawyer's Wharf, eh?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"I want to know! Well! Well! Where'd you say you came across her?" Steve
told him again. "And you brought her in yourself, eh?"
"The lot of us did. Now what we want to know is what claim have we got
against the owners, Mr. Hyatt?"
The lawyer heaved himself back to his chair and lowered himself into it
with what the boys thought was a most reckless disregard of the
article's capacity and strength. But the chair only creaked dismally.
"Of course you do! Of course you do!" he rumbled smilingly. "But
s'posing I was to tell you you hadn't any claim at all on 'em?"
"What! No claim at all?" exclaimed Steve.
The man laughed and shook. "I only said s'posing," he protested. He
weaved his fingers together again over his ample stomach. "As a matter
of law, young gentlemen, you have an excellent claim, a steel-bound,
double-riveted claim. Whether it's against the owners or some insurance
company is what you'll have to find out first. Most likely that ship and
cargo were insured. As to just what amount you are entitled to, the law
doesn't state. That's a matter generally agreed on between the salvors
and the owners. When no agreement can be reached the case goes to the
Admiralty Court."
"Oh," said Steve. "The first thing to do--"
"I guess the first thing to do is find out who the owners are and see
what they have to say. If they make you a fair offer, well and good.
Now, do you want me to take this case for you?"
"Why, yes, sir, I think so," replied Steve, glancing inquiringly at the
others, who nodded assent. "How much--that is, what--"
"What would I charge you for my services?" boomed the lawyer. "Nothing
at all, boys, unless you get a settlement. If we don't have to go to
court you may pay me a hundred dollars. If we do, we'll make another
arrangement later. That satisfactory?"
"Yes, indeed," answered Steve heartily, and the rest murmured agreement.
"How long will it take to find out, sir?"
"I'll have the owner's name in half an hour. Then I'll send them a wire.
You drop in tomorrow at this time and I dare say I'll have something to
tell you. I'll have a look at the boat this afternoon and get an idea of
her value as a bottom. Then we'll get someone to give an estimate on her
cargo. Would you be willing to pay ten dollars for an appraisement?"
"Yes, sir, if that's advisable."
"Well, I think it is. We'd better know what we've got, eh? All right,
gentlemen. You leave it to me. Where are you stopping?"
"We're staying aboard our boats, sir, the _Adventurer_ and the _Follow
Me_."
"I want to know! Regular mariners, ain't ye? Well! Well! Guess you're
having a fine time, too, eh?"
"Yes, sir, we've had a pretty good time. About--about how much do you
think we ought to get for the boat, Mr. Hyatt?"
"Including cargo? Well, now, I don't know, Mister--What did you say your
name is?"
"Stephen Chapman."
"Mr. Stephen Chapman, eh?" The lawyer wrote it on a scrap of paper and
thrust it carelessly into a pigeon-hole of the old walnut desk. "Well,
there ought to be a tidy sum coming to you, sir; yes, sir, a tidy sum.
Lumber is fetching money just now, and you tell me the _Catspaw_ is
loaded high."
"Yes, sir, she's loaded up to her rails. Do you suppose we'll get a
thousand dollars?"
"A thousand dollars, eh?" Mr. Hyatt beamed broadly and nodded until all
his chins in sight shook. "Yes, you might look for a thousand dollars,
boys. It isn't sense to get your expectations too high, but I guess you
can safely bank on a thousand. Oh, yes, a thousand isn't unreasonable.
Well, you drop around tomorrow and maybe there'll be something to
report. I'll get right to work, gentlemen. Good afternoon!"
"Funny old whale, isn't he?" commented Joe when they were once more on
the street. "Suppose he knows what he's talking about?"
"Why not?" asked Wink. "He struck me as being rather a canny customer."
"Well, he said a thousand dollars," replied Joe. "That's a lot of money,
isn't it, for an old schooner like the _Catspaw_?"
"It isn't much for the schooner and the cargo, too," said Steve. "I'm
wondering if it oughtn't to be a lot more; say fifteen hundred. You see,
a schooner like that costs quite a lot of money when it's new. And then,
as Mr. Hyatt said, lumber is high right now, and there's a pile of it on
board."
"A thousand will suit me all right," said Joe. "A twelfth of a thousand
is--is--"
"A thirteenth you mean," corrected Steve. "Don't forget Neil."
"And don't count your chickens until they're hatched," Wink advised.
"It's unlucky, Joe."
They found the other members of the expedition in various states of coma
induced by a hearty dinner and lack of sleep, but they were all wide
awake when Steve announced the result of the visit to the lawyer.
"Gee!" exclaimed "Brownie." "A thousand dollars! He's fooling, isn't he?
Why, I thought we'd get maybe three hundred!"
"A thousand isn't a cent too much," said Perry. "Come to think of it,
fellows, I earned that much myself!"
"Just a minute, fellows," said Steve, interrupting the jeers that
greeted Perry's statement. "What are we going to do with the money when
we get it?"
There was a moment of silence. Then Tom Corwin inquired: "Do with it?
How do you mean, do with it, Steve? I thought it would be divided up pro
rata."
"Of course," agreed Cas and Ossie in unison.
"Wait a minute," said Phil. "Steve's got something on his mind. Let's
hear it."
Steve swung himself to the porch rail and faced the half-circle of boys.
"It's just an idea," he began, "and if you don't like it you've only got
to say so. As I look at it, fellows, this club has been a good deal of a
success. If we haven't had any whopping big adventures, we've had some
mild ones--"
"Great Jumping Jehoshaphat!" muttered Han. "What do you call
adventures?"
Steve smiled and went on, "At any rate, we've had a whole lot of fun. At
least, I have." He looked about him inquiringly.
"You bet we have!" answered Joe heartily, and the rest echoed him.
"Of course, we got the club up just for this Summer, I suppose, but I
don't see any reason why we shouldn't make it a--a permanent affair."
"Bully!" exclaimed Perry. "Second the motion!"
"Sit down!" growled Wink.
"There's next Summer coming, fellows. We could do something like this
again if we wanted to. We needn't make a trip in motor-boats, but we
could do something just as good. Well, now, why not take this money
when we get it and stow it away in the Club treasury instead of spending
it? Then we'd have enough to do almost anything we liked next year. If
we each got our seventy-seven dollars, or whatever the shares might be,
we'd have it spent in a month and never know where it got to. But if we
put it in the bank at interest we'd--we'd have something. If you don't
like the scheme, just say so. I'm willing to do whatever the rest of you
say, only I thought--"
"It's a corking idea," declared Harry Corwin enthusiastically. "You're
dead right, Steve, too. Seventy-seven dollars would last about two weeks
with me. Why hang it, I've had it spent ten times already, and each time
for some fool thing I didn't really want! I say, let's keep the Club
going, fellows, and put the money in the treasury. And let Phil deposit
it in a bank. At four per cent, or whatever it is banks pay you, it
would come to nearly--nearly thirty dollars by next Summer. And thirty
dollars would buy us gasoline for a month!"
"Right you are," agreed Wink. "We'll make a real club of it."
"How about the rest of you?" asked Steve.
The others were all in favour, although Perry couldn't quite smother a
sigh of regret for the cash in hand he had dreamed of, and there
followed an enthusiastic discussion of plans for next Summer, and Bert
Alley echoed the sentiment of all when he remarked regretfully that next
Summer was an awfully long way off! Ossie made the suggestion that it
might be a good plan to reimburse the members from the salvage money for
what sums they had expended on the present cruise, explaining, however,
that he wasn't particular on his own account. The question was argued
and finally decided in the negative. As Phil put it, what they had spent
would have been spent in any case, whether they had gone on the cruise
or stayed at home, and they had all received full value for their
contributions. Still planning, they went back to the boats and spent the
rest of the afternoon in cleaning them up inside and out, for both the
_Adventurer_ and the _Follow Me_ had been sadly neglected for the past
forty-eight hours.
Being persons of wealth, they supped ashore and went to a moving picture
show, and afterwards, since no one had had his full allowance of sleep
for the past two nights, "hit the hay," in Perry's phraseology, in short
order and slept like so many logs until sun-up.
"I wish," remarked Han at breakfast the next morning, "that we were
just starting out instead of going home."
"Me too," agreed Perry. "It'll be all over in two or three days, and
I'll have to go back to school again. I suppose," he added sadly, "I
shan't see any of you fellows again until next Summer; no one but Ossie,
that is."
"You don't have to look at me if you don't want to," said Ossie,
reaching backward into the galley for the coffee-pot. "I'm not
particular."
"You'll see us before Summer," replied Steve. "I've been thinking."
"So that's it," murmured Joe. "I thought maybe you just--um--hadn't
slept well."
"If we're going to keep the Club together," continued Steve, treating
the interruption disdainfully, "we've got to keep in touch with each
other. Suppose now we have a meeting about Christmas time, during
vacation."
"Good scheme!" applauded Phil.
"I think so. My idea is to keep out about thirty dollars of that money,
or take it out later, I suppose, and have a feed somewhere, a sort of
Annual Banquet of the Adventure Club of America, not Incorporated. We
could hold a business meeting first and then feed our faces and talk
over this Summer's fun and have a jolly old time. What do you say! Pass
the sugar, Han."
[Illustration: "They offer you--" Mr. Hyatt leaned forward in the
protesting chair]
They said many things, but they were all in praise of the idea, and
later the _Follow Me's_ contingent was quite as enthusiastic, and Steve,
in his official capacity of Number One, finally found a calendar and
solemnly announced that Saturday, the twenty-third day of December, was
the date, that the hour was six o'clock, post meredian, and that the
place would be decided on later. After which they all went ashore and
passed the time until dinner in various ways. And at a little before two
Steve, Joe and Wink once more climbed the narrow stairway to Lawyer
Hyatt's office.
"I have here," said Mr. Hyatt, when they had seated themselves and
greetings had been exchanged and the weather duly and thoroughly
disposed of, "a telegram from Barrows and Leland, of Norfolk, Virginia,
agents for the owners of the schooner _Catspaw_. In it they make an
offer of settlement of your claim, subject, of course, to the facts and
conditions being as stated in my telegram to them."
He paused impressively and the boys shuffled their feet in silent
expectancy.
"Hm. Now I'm not going to advise you to accept their offer and I'm not
going to advise you not to," he rumbled. "Only, I do say this,
gentlemen. If you take your case to the Admiralty Court it will cost you
a good deal of money and you won't get a final judgment for a long time.
Of course, you might, in the end, get a better figure. I'd almost be
willing to guarantee that you would. But you want to remember that the
costs of a trial aren't small and that they might eat a big hole in the
difference between the present offer and the court's award."
"What--what do they offer us?" asked Steve as the lawyer paused to clear
his throat.
"There's no doubt that the value of the _Catspaw_ and her cargo is a
sight more than these fellows offer us," resumed Mr. Hyatt, quite as
though he had not heard the question. "But there's the old adage about a
bird on toast being worth more than a bird on the telegraph wire." He
chuckled deeply. "And, of course, no owner ever thinks of paying the
full value of salvaged property. Nor does the court expect him to.
Something like an equable division is what they try to award."
"Yes, sir," murmured Steve nervously. "Yes, sir. Would you mind--"
"You said something yesterday about a thousand dollars, and I told you
you might expect that much, didn't I?"
Steve nodded silently.
"Well--" The lawyer took up a sheet of creased yellow paper from the
desk and ran his eyes along the message thereon. "Well, I've got to tell
you they don't offer you a thousand, boys."
"Oh!" murmured Steve.
"Don't they?" gasped Joe weakly.
"Then what--" began Wink dejectedly.
"They offer you--" Mr. Hyatt leaned forward in the protesting chair and
held the telegram toward Steve--"they offer you four thousand, seven
hundred and sixty-one dollars, young gentlemen."
* * * * *
Isn't this a good place to end our story? I might tell how they wired
the good news to Neil, and how they set forth that afternoon for New
York, and how, after a jolly but uneventful trip, the two boats parted
company off Bay Shore, and how the _Adventurer_, having done her best to
deserve the name she bore, at last sidled up to a slip in the yacht
basin and discharged her crew. And I might depict the awed delight with
which, two days later, Steve, Joe and Phil gazed upon a narrow strip of
green paper bearing the wonderful legend "Four Thousand Seven Hundred
Sixty-one Dollars." But we set out in search of adventures, and we have
reached the last of them, and so the chronicle should end. And since it
began with a remark from Perry let us end it so. Perry's closing remark
was made from the platform of the train for Philadelphia.
"Good-bye, you fellows," said Perry, smiling widely to show that he
didn't mind leaving the others the least bit in the world. "We had a
corking good time, didn't we? But just let me tell you something. It
isn't a patch on the fun we're going to have on the next trip of the
Adventure Club!"