The Warren breakfast hour was nine o’clock. At a quarter to nine
Caroline, entering the library, found Stephen seated by the fire reading
the morning paper.
“Good morning,” she said. Then, looking about the room, asked, “Has--has
_he_ been here?”
Her brother shook his head. “You mean Uncle ‘Lish?” he asked,
cheerfully. “No, he hasn’t. At least, I haven’t seen him and I haven’t
made any inquiries. I shall manage to survive if he never appears. Let
sleeping relatives lie, that’s my motto.”
He laughed at his own joke and turned the page of the paper. The butler
entered.
“Breakfast is served, Miss Caroline,” he announced.
“Has Captain Warren come from his room?” asked the young lady.
“No, Miss Caroline. That is, I haven’t seen him.”
Stephen tossed the paper on the floor and rose.
“I wonder--” he began. Then, with a broad grin, “A sudden thought
strikes me, Sis. He has undoubtedly blown out the gas.”
“Steve! How can you!”
“Perfectly simple. Absolutely reasonable. Just what might have been
expected. ‘He has gone, but we shall miss him.’ Come on, Caro; I’m
hungry. Let the old hayseed sleep. You and I can have a meal in peace.
Heavens! you don’t care for another experience like last night’s, do
you?”
“Edwards,” said Caroline, “you may knock at Captain Warren’s door and
tell him breakfast is served.”
“Yes,” commanded Stephen, “and tell him not to hurry on our account.
Come, Caro, come! You’re not pining for his society. Well, wait then!
_I_ won’t!”
He marched angrily out of the room. His sister hesitated, her wish
to follow complicated by a feeling of duty to a guest, no matter how
unwelcome. The butler reappeared, looking puzzled.
“He’s not there, miss?” he said.
“Not there? Not in his room?”
“No, Miss Caroline. I knocked, and he didn’t answer, so I looked in and
he wasn’t there. His bed’s been slept in, but he’s gone.”
“Gone? And you haven’t seen him?”
“No, miss. I’ve been up and about since half past seven, and I can’t
understand where he could have got to.”
The door of the hall opened and shut. Edwards darted from the library.
A moment afterwards Captain Elisha strolled in. He was wearing his
overcoat, and his hat was in his hand.
“Good mornin’, Caroline,” he hailed, in his big voice. “Surprised to see
me, are you? Ho! ho! So was the Commodore. He couldn’t understand how
I got in without ringin’. Well, you see, I’m used to turnin’ out pretty
early, and when it got to be most seven o’clock, I couldn’t lay to bed
any longer, so I got up, dressed, and went for a walk. I fixed the door
latch so’s I could come in quiet. You haven’t waited breakfast for me, I
hope.”
“No; it is ready now, however.”
“Ready now,” the captain looked at his watch. “Yes, I should think so.
It’s way into the forenoon. You _have_ waited for me, haven’t you? I’m
awfully sorry.”
“No, we have not waited. Our breakfast hour is nine. Pardon me for
neglecting to tell you that last evening.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Now you trot right out and eat. I’ve had mine.”
“Had your breakfast?”
“Yes, indeed. When I’m home, Abbie and I usually eat about seven, so I
get sort of sharp-set if I wait after that. I cal’lated you city folks
was late sleepers, and I wouldn’t want to make any trouble, so I found
a little eatin’ house down below here a ways and had a cup of coffee and
some bread and butter and mush. Then I went cruisin’ round in Central
Park a spell. This _is_ Central Park over across here, ain’t it?”
“Yes.” The girl was too astonished to say more.
“I thought ‘twas. I’d been through part of it afore, but ‘twas years
ago, and it’s such a big place and the paths run so criss-cross I got
sort of mixed up, and it took me longer to get out than it did to get
in. I had the gen’ral points of the compass, and I guess I could have
made a pretty average straight run for home, but every time I wanted to
cut across lots there was a policeman lookin’ at me, so I had to stick
to the channel. That’s what made me so late. Now do go and eat your
breakfast. I won’t feel easy till I see you start.”
Caroline departed, and the captain, after a visit to his own room, where
he left his coat and hat, returned to the library, picked up the paper
which his nephew had dropped, and began reading.
After breakfast came the “business talk.” It was a brief one. Captain
Elisha soon discovered that his brother’s children knew very little
concerning their father’s affairs. They had always plenty of money, had
been indulged in practically every wish, and had never had to think or
plan for themselves. As to the size of the estate, they knew nothing
more than Mr. Graves had told them, which was that, instead of the
several millions which rumor had credited A. Rodgers Warren with
possessing, five hundred thousand dollars would probably be the extent
of their inheritance, and that, therefore, they must live economically.
As a first step in that direction, they had given up their former home
and moved to the apartment.
“Yes, yes,” mused the captain, “I see. Mr. Graves didn’t know about your
movin’, then? You did it on your own hook, so to speak?”
Stephen answered promptly.
“Of course we did,” he declared. “Why not?”
“No reason in the world. A good sensible thing to do, I should say.
Didn’t anybody advise you where to go?”
“Why should we need advice?” Again it was Stephen who replied. “We
aren’t kids. We’re old enough to decide some things for ourselves, I
should think.”
“Yes. Sartin. That’s right. But I didn’t know but p’raps some of your
friends might have helped along. This Mrs. Dunn now, she kind of hinted
to me that she’d--well, done what she could to make you comf’table.”
“She has,” avowed Caroline, warmly. “Mrs. Dunn and Malcolm have proved
their friendship in a thousand ways. We never can repay them, Stephen
and I, never!”
“No. There’s some things you can’t ever pay, I know that. Mrs. Dunn
found this nice place for you, did she?”
“Why, yes. She and I found it together.”
“So? That was lucky, wa’n’t it? Advertised in the newspaper, was it; or
was there a ‘To Let’ placard up in the window?”
“No, certainly not. Mrs. Dunn knew that we had decided to move, and she
has a cousin who is interested in New York property. She asked him, and
he mentioned this apartment.”
“One of his own, was it?”
“I believe so. Why are you so particular? Don’t you like it?”
Her tone was sharp. Stephen, who resented his uncle’s questions as
impertinent intrusions upon the family affairs, added one of his own.
“Isn’t it as good as those in--what do you call it--South Denboro?” he
asked, maliciously.
Captain Elisha laughed heartily.
“Pretty nigh as good,” he said. “I didn’t notice any better on the way
to the depot as I drove up. And I doubt if there’s many new ones built
since I left. It’s a mighty fine lot of rooms, I think. What’s the rent?
You’ll excuse my askin’, things bein’ as they are.”
“Twenty-two hundred a year,” answered his niece, coldly.
The captain looked at her, whistled, broke off the whistle in the
middle, and did a little mental arithmetic.
“Twenty-two hundred a year!” he repeated. “That’s one hundred and
eighty odd a month. Say, that cousin of Mrs. Dunn’s must want to get his
investment back. You mean for just these ten rooms?”
Stephen laughed scornfully.
“Our guardian has been counting, Caro,” he remarked.
“Yes. Yes, I counted this mornin’ when I got up. I was interested,
naturally.”
“Sure! Naturally, of course,” sneered the boy. “Did you think the
twenty-two hundred was the rent of the entire building?”
“Well, I didn’t know. I--”
“The rent,” interrupted Caroline, with dignity, “was twenty-four
hundred, but, thanks to Mrs. Dunn, who explained to her cousin that we
were friends of hers, it was reduced.”
“We being in reduced circumstances,” observed her brother in supreme
disgust. “Pity the poor orphans! By gad!”
“That was real nice of Mrs. Dunn,” declared Captain Elisha, heartily.
“She’s pretty well-off herself, I s’pose--hey, Caroline?”
“I presume so.”
“Yes, yes. About how much is she wuth, think?”
“I don’t know. I never inquired.”
“No. Well, down our way,” with a chuckle, “we don’t have to inquire. Ask
anybody you meet what his next door neighbor’s wuth, and he’ll tell you
within a hundred, and how he got it, and how much he owes, and how he
gets along with his wife. Ho! ho! Speakin’ of wives, is this Mr. Dunn
married?”
He looked at his niece as he asked the question. There was no reason why
Caroline should blush; she knew it, and hated herself for doing it.
“No,” she answered, resentfully, “he is not.”
“Um-hm. What’s his business?”
“He is connected with a produce exchange house, I believe.”
“One of the firm?”
“I don’t know. In New York we are not as well posted, or as curious,
concerning our friends’ private affairs as your townspeople seem to be.”
“I guess that’s so. I imagine New Yorkers are too busy gettin’ it
themselves to bother whether their neighbors have got it or not. Well,”
he went on, rising, “I guess I’ve kept you young folks from your work
or--or play, or whatever you was going to do, long enough for this once.
I think I’ll go out for a spell. I’ve got an errand or two I want to do.
What time do you have dinner?”
“We lunch at half past one,” answered Caroline.
“We dine at seven.”
“Oh, yes, yes! I keep forgettin’ that supper’s dinner. Well, I presume
likely I’ll be back for luncheon. If I ain’t, don’t wait for me. I’ll be
home afore supper--there I go again!--afore dinner, anyhow. Good-by.”
Five minutes later he was at the street corner, inquiring of a policeman
“the handiest way to get to Pine Street.” Following the directions
given, he boarded a train at the nearest subway station, emerged at Wall
Street, inquired once more, located the street he was looking for, and,
consulting a card which he took from a big stained leather pocket-book,
walked on, peering at the numbers of the buildings he passed.
The offices of Sylvester, Kuhn, and Graves, were on the sixteenth floor
of a new and gorgeously appointed sky-scraper. When Captain Elisha
entered the firm’s reception room, he was accosted by a wide-awake and
extremely self-possessed office boy.
“Who’d you want to see?” asked the boy, briskly.
The captain removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief.
“Hold on a jiffy, Sonny,” he panted. “Just give me a minute to sort of
get myself together, as you might say. I rode up in one of those express
elevators of yours, and I kind of feel as if my boots had got tangled up
with my necktie. When that elevator feller cast off from the cellar, I
begun to shut up like a spyglass. Whew! Say, Son, is Mr. Graves in?”
“No,” replied the boy, grinning.
“Hum! Still in the sick bay, is he--hey?”
“He’s to home. Got a cold.”
“Yup. It’s too bad. Mr.--er--Sylvester, is he in?”
“Naw, he ain’t. And Mr. Kuhn’s busy. Won’t one of the clerks do? What do
you want to see the firm about?”
“Well, Son, I had reasons of my own. However, I guess I won’t disturb
Mr. Kuhn, if he’s busy’s you say. Here! you tell him, or Mr. Sylvester
when he comes, that Cap’n Warren, Cap’n Elisha Warren of South
Denboro--better write it down--called and will be back about half past
twelve or thereabouts. Got it, have you? Hum! is that Elisha? You don’t
tell me! I’ve been spellin’ it for sixty years, more or less, and never
realized it had such possibilities. Lend me your pencil. There! you give
Mr. Sylvester that and tell him I’ll see him later. So long, Son.”
He departed, smiling. The indignant office boy threw the card on the
table.
Captain Elisha strolled down Pine Street, looking about him with
interest. It had been years since he visited this locality, and the
changes were many. Soon, however, he began to recognize familiar
landmarks. He was approaching the water front, and there were fewer new
buildings. When he reached South Street he was thoroughly at home.
The docks were crowded. The river was alive with small craft of all
kinds. Steamers and schooners were plenty, but the captain missed the
old square-riggers, the clipper ships and barks, such as he had sailed
in as cabin boy, as foremast hand, and, later, commanded on many seas.
At length, however, he saw four masts towering above the roof of a
freight house. They were not schooner rigged, those masts. The yards
were set square across, and along them were furled royals and upper
topsails. Here, at last, was a craft worth looking at. Captain Elisha
crossed the street, hurried past the covered freight house, and saw a
magnificent great ship lying beside a broad open wharf. Down the wharf
he walked, joyfully, as one who greets an old friend.
The wharf was practically deserted. An ancient watchman was dozing in
a sort of sentry box, but he did not wake. There was a pile of
foreign-looking crates and boxes at the further end of the pier,
evidently the last bit of cargo waiting to be carted away. The captain
inspected the pile, recognized the goods as Chinese and Japanese, then
read the name on the big ship’s stern. She was the _Empress of the
Ocean_, and her home port was Liverpool.
Captain Elisha, as a free-born Yankee skipper, had an inherited and
cherished contempt for British “lime-juicers,” but he could not help
admiring this one. To begin with, her size and tonnage were enormous.
Also, she was four-masted, instead of the usual three, and her hull and
lower spars were of steel instead of wood. A steel sailing vessel was
something of a novelty to the captain, and he was seized with a desire
to go aboard and inspect.
The ladder from ship to wharf was down, of course, and getting on board
was an easy matter. When he reached the deck and looked about him, the
great size of the ship was still more apparent. The bulwarks were as
high as a short man’s head. She was decked over aft, and, as the captain
said afterwards, “her cabins had nigh as many stories as a house.”
From the roof of the “first story,” level with the bulwarks, extended
a series of bridges, which could be hoisted or lowered, and by means of
which her officers could walk from stern to bow without descending to
the deck. There was a good-sized engine house forward, beyond the galley
and forecastle. Evidently the work of hoisting anchors and canvas was
done by steam.
The captain strolled about, looking her over. The number of improvements
since his seagoing days was astonishing. He was standing by the wheel,
near the companion way, wishing that he might inspect the officers’
quarters, but not liking to do so without an invitation, when two men
emerged from the cabin.
One of the pair was evidently the Japanese steward of the ship. The
other was a tall, clean-cut young fellow, whose general appearance and
lack of sunburn showed quite plainly that he was not a seafaring man
by profession. The steward caught sight of Captain Elisha, and, walking
over, accosted him.
“Want to see skipper, sir?” he asked, in broken English. “He ashore.”
“No, Doctor,” replied the captain, cheerfully. “I don’t want to see
him. I’ve got no business aboard. It’s been some time since I trod the
quarter-deck of a square-rigger, and I couldn’t resist the temptation
of tryin’ how the planks felt under my feet. This is consider’ble of a
clipper you’ve got here,” he added.
“Yes, sir,” replied the steward grinning.
“Where you from?” asked Captain Elisha.
“Singapore, sir.”
“Cargo all out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Waitin’ for another one?”
“Yes, sir. We load for Manila bimeby.”
“Manila, hey? Have a good passage across?”
“Yes, sir. She good ship.”
“Shouldn’t wonder. How d’ye do, sir,” to the young man, who was standing
near. “Hope you won’t think I’m crowdin’ in where I don’t belong. I was
just tellin’ the doctor here that it had been some time since I trod a
quarter-deck, and I thought I’d see if I’d forgot the feel.”
“Have you?” asked the young man, smiling.
“Guess not. Seems kind of nat’ral. I never handled such a whale of a
craft as this, though. Didn’t have many of ‘em in my day. Come over in
her, did you?”
“No,” with a shake of the head. “No such luck. I’m a land lubber, just
scouting round, that’s all. She’s a bully vessel, isn’t she?”
“Looks so. Tell you better after I’ve seen what she could do in a
full-sail breeze. All hands ashore, Doctor?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the steward.
“Crew paid off and spendin’ their money, I s’pose. Well, if it ain’t
against orders, I’d kind of like to look around a little mite. May I?”
The steward merely grinned. His companion answered for him.
“Certainly you may,” he said. “I’m a friend of one of the consignees,
and I’d be glad to show you the ship, if you like. Shall we begin with
the cabins?”
Captain Elisha, delighted with the opportunity, expressed his thanks,
and the tour of inspection began. The steward remained on deck, but the
captain and his new acquaintance strolled through the officers’ quarters
together.
“Jerushy!” exclaimed the former, as he viewed the main cabin. “Say, you
could pretty nigh have a dance here, couldn’t you? A small one. This
reminds me of the cabin aboard the _Sea Gull_, first vessel I went mate
of--it’s so diff’rent. Aboard her we had to walk sittin’ down. There
wa’n’t room in the cabin for more’n one to stand up at a time. But she
could sail, just the same--and carry it, too. I’ve seen her off the Horn
with studdin’ sails set, when craft twice her length and tonnage had
everything furled above the tops’l yard. Hi hum! you mustn’t mind an old
salt runnin’ on this way. I’ve been out of the pickle tub a good while,
but I cal’late the brine ain’t all out of my system.”
His guide’s eyes snapped.
“I understand,” he said, laughing. “I’ve never been at sea, on a long
voyage, in my life, but I can understand just how you feel. It’s in
my blood, I guess. I come of a salt water line. My people were from
Belfast, Maine, and every man of them went to sea.”
“Belfast, hey? They turned out some A No. 1 sailors in Belfast. I sailed
under a Cap’n Pearson from there once--James Pearson, his name was.”
“He was my great uncle. I was named for him. My name is James Pearson,
also.”
“_What_?” Captain Elisha was hugely delighted. “Mr. Pearson, shake
hands. I want to tell you that your Uncle Jim was a seaman of the kind
you dream about, but seldom meet. I was his second mate three v’yages.
My name’s Elisha Warren.”
Mr. Pearson shook hands and laughed, good-humoredly.
“Glad to meet you, Captain Warren,” he said. “And I’m glad you knew
Uncle Jim. As a youngster, he was my idol. He could spin yarns that were
worth listening to.”
“I bet you! He’d seen things wuth yarnin’ about. So you ain’t a sailor,
hey? Livin’ in New York?”
The young man nodded. “Yes,” he said. Then, with a dry smile, “If you
call occupying a hall bedroom and eating at a third-rate boarding-house
table living. However, it’s my own fault. I’ve been a newspaper man
since I left college. But I threw up my job six months ago. Since then
I’ve been free-lancing.”
“Have, hey?” The captain was too polite to ask further questions, but he
had not the slightest idea what “free-lancing” might be. Pearson divined
his perplexity and explained.
“I’ve had a feeling,” he said, “that I might write magazine articles and
stories--yes, possibly a novel or two. It’s a serious disease, but
the only way to find out whether it’s chronic or not is to experiment.
That’s what I’m doing now. The thing I’m at work on may turn out to be
a sea story. So I spend some time around the wharves and aboard the few
sailing ships in port, picking up material.”
Captain Elisha patted him on the back.
“Now don’t you get discouraged,” he said. “I used to have an idea that
novel writin’ and picture paintin’ was poverty jobs for men with healthy
appetites, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know’s you’ll believe it,
but I’ve just found out, for a fact, that some painters get twenty-two
thousand dollars for one picture. For _one_, mind you. And a little mite
of a thing, too, that couldn’t have cost scarcely anything to paint.
Maybe novels sell for just as much. _I_ don’t know.”
His companion laughed heartily. “I’m afraid not, Captain,” he said.
“Few, at any rate. I should be satisfied with considerably less, to
begin with. Are you living here in town?”
“Well--we-ll, I don’t know. I ain’t exactly livin’, and I ain’t exactly
boardin’, but--Say! ain’t that the doctor callin’ you?”
It was the steward, and there was an anxious ring in his voice. Pearson
excused himself and hurried out of the cabin. Captain Elisha lingered
for a final look about. Then he followed leisurely, becoming aware, as
he reached the open air, of loud voices in angry dialogue.
Entrances to the _Empress of the Ocean’s_ cabins were on the main deck,
and also on the raised half-deck at the stern, near the wheel, the
binnacle and the officers’ corned-beef tubs, swinging in their frames.
From this upper deck two flights of steps led down to the main deck
below. At the top of one of these flights stood young Pearson, cool and
alert. Behind him half crouched the Japanese steward, evidently very
much frightened. At the foot of the steps were grouped three rough
looking men, foreigners and sailors without doubt, and partially
intoxicated. The three men were an ugly lot, and they were all yelling
and jabbering together in a foreign lingo. As the captain emerged
from the passage to the open deck, he heard Pearson reply in the same
language.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Pearson answered without turning his head.
“Drunken sailors,” he explained. “Part of the crew here. They’ve been
uptown, got full, and come back to square a grudge they seem to have
against the steward. I’m telling them they’d better give up and go
ashore, if they know when they’re well off.”
The three fellows by the ladder’s foot were consulting together. On the
wharf were half a dozen loungers, collected by the prospect of a row.
“If I can hold them off for a few minutes,” went on Pearson, “we’ll be
all right. The wharf watchman has gone for the police. Here! drop it!
What are you up to?”
One of the sailors had drawn a knife. The other two reached for their
belts behind, evidently intending to follow suit. From the loafers on
the wharf came shouts of encouragement.
“Do the dude up, Pedro! Give him what’s comin’ to him.”
The trio formed for a rush. The steward, with a shrill scream, fled to
the cabin. Pearson did not move; he even smiled. The next moment he was
pushed to one side, and Captain Elisha stood at the top of the steps.
“Here!” he said, sternly. “What’s all this?”
The three sailors, astonished at this unexpected addition to their
enemies forces, hesitated. Pearson laid his hand on the captain’s arm.
“Be careful,” he said. “They’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Them? I’ve seen their kind afore. Here, you!” turning to the
three below. “What do you mean by this? Put down that knife, you lubber!
Do you want to be put in irons? Over the side with you, you swabs! Git!”
He began descending the ladder. Whether the sailors were merely too
surprised to resist, or because they recognized the authority of the
deep sea in Captain Elisha’s voice and face is a question. At any rate,
as he descended they backed away.
“Mutiny on board a ship of mine?” roared the captain. “What do you mean
by it? Why, I’ll have you tied up and put on bread and water. Over the
side with you! Mutiny on board of _me_! Lively! Tumble up there!”
With every order came a stride forward and a correspondingly backward
movement on the part of the three. The performance would have been
ridiculous if Pearson had not feared that it might become tragic. He was
descending the steps to his new acquaintance’s aid, when there rose a
chorus of shouts from the wharf.
“The cops! the cops! Look out!”
That was the finishing touch. The next moment the three “mutineers” were
over the side and running as fast as their alcoholic condition would
permit down the wharf.
“Well, by George!” exclaimed Pearson.
Captain Elisha seemed to be coming out of a dream. He stood still, drew
his hand across his forehead, and then began to laugh.
“Well!” he stammered. “Well, I snum! I--I--Mr. Pearson, I wonder what on
earth you must think of me. I declare the sight of that gang set me back
about twenty years. They--they must have thought I was the new skipper!
Did you hear me tell ‘em they couldn’t mutiny aboard of me? Ho! ho!
Well, I am an old idiot!”
Pearson stuck his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ve got it!”
he cried. “I knew your name was familiar. Why, you’re the mate that
handled the mutinous crew aboard Uncle Jim’s bark, the _Pacer_, off
Mauritius, in the typhoon, when he was hurt and in the cabin. I’ve heard
him tell it a dozen times. Well, this _is_ a lucky day for me!”
Captain Elisha was evidently pleased. “So he told you that, did he?” he
began. “That _was_ a time and a half, I--”
He was interrupted. Over the rail appeared a blue helmet, and an instant
later a big and very pompous police officer leaped to the deck. He was
followed by the wharf watchman, who looked frightened.
“Where’s the other one of them?” demanded the policeman. “Oh, it’s you,
is it? Well, you’re too old to be gettin’ drunk and fightin’. Come along
now, peaceable, and let’s have no words about it.”
He advanced and laid a hand on the captain’s arm.
“You’re under arrest,” he announced. “Will you come along quiet?”
“I’m under arrest?” repeated Captain Elisha. “Under--My soul and body!
Why, I ain’t done anything.”
“Yes, I know. Nobody’s done nothin’. Come on, or shall I--Hello, Mr.
Pearson, sir! How d’you do?”
Pearson had stepped forward.
“Slattery,” he said, “you’ve made a mistake. Let me tell you about
it.” He drew the officer aside and whispered in his ear. After a rather
lengthy conversation, the guardian of the peace turned to the watchman.
“What d’you mean by tellin’ all them lies?” he demanded.
“Lies?” repeated the astonished watchman. “I never told no lies.”
“You did. You said this gentleman,” indicating the nervous and
apprehensive Captain Elisha, “was fightin’ and murderin’. I ask your
pardon, sir. ‘Twas this bloke’s foolishness. G’wan ashore! You make me
sick. Good day, Mr. Pearson.”
He departed, driving his new victim before him and tongue-lashing him
all the way. The captain drew a long breath.
“Say, Mr. Pearson,” he declared, “a minute or so ago you said this was
a lucky day for you. I cal’late it’s a luckier one for me. If it hadn’t
been for you I’d been took up. Yes, sir, took up and carted off to the
lockup. Whew! that would have looked well in the papers, wouldn’t it?
And my niece and nephew.... Jerushy! I’m mightily obliged to you. How
did you handle that policeman so easily?”
Pearson laughed. “Oh,” he replied, “a newspaper training and
acquaintance has its advantages. Slattery knows me, and I know him.”
“Well, I thank you, I do so.”
“You needn’t. I wouldn’t have missed meeting you and seeing you handle
those fellows for a good deal. And besides, you’re not going to escape
so easy. You must lunch with me.”
The captain started, hastily pulled out his watch, and looked at it.
“Quarter to one!” he cried. “And I said I’d be back at that lawyer’s
office at half-past twelve. No, no, Mr. Pearson, I can’t go to lunch
with you, but I do wish you’d come and see me some time. My address
for--for a spell, anyhow--is Central Park West,” giving the number, “and
the name is Warren, same as mine. Will you come some evenin’? I’d be
tickled to death to see you.”
The young man was evidently delighted.
“Will I?” he exclaimed. “Indeed I will. I warn you, Captain Warren, that
I shall probably keep you busy spinning sea yarns.”
“Nothin’ I like better, though I’m afraid my yarns’ll be pretty dull
alongside of your Uncle Jim’s.”
“I’ll risk it. Good-by and good luck. I shall see you very soon.”
“That’s right; do. So long.”