“Here’s the last quarter I’ve got in the world. Give me some
oysters, and go as far as you like,” was the combination of
announcement and request with which John Olson, a sailor
employed on the Scandinavian-American Line, greeted William Gau,
proprietor of a market on Washington Street, Hoboken, as he
entered that establishment.
Mr. Gau proceeded to open oysters. The sailor looked hungry, so
he made haste.
As the third oyster was pried apart Mr. Gau uttered an
exclamation. There was a big pearl. “Well, that’s the best luck
I’ve had in a long time,” he observed. “Isn’t it a beauty?”
“Wait a minute,” piped up Olson. “Didn’t I buy the oysters, and
didn’t you take the money? My oyster, my pearl. Hand ’er over.”
The oysterman protested, but the sailor argued so convincingly
that Mr. Gau finally acquiesced. They journeyed at once to
a jeweler, who appraised the jewel at $200, and threw in an
exclamation of admiration upon its white color for good measure.
It weighs about three carats.
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