“But how—how on earth did they know you wanted to go?” demanded Tom’s father, “and why are they going to take that crew of cripples? There’s a mystery here, boys; what is it?”
The two boys were thoroughly enjoying themselves. “And that’s not all, Dad,” went on Tom. “The owners said that if Jim and I couldn’t go, the Narwhal’s cruise would be given up—they wouldn’t even fit her out.”
“What is all this nonsense?” exclaimed Mr. Chester. “The owners must be crazy—talking about giving up a cruise if you two kids don’t go along! Who are the owners of the old ship anyway?”
“Well, you see it’s a company,” explained Tom, scarcely able to control himself, “and the members who own the most shares are managing owners and have the say about everything.”
“Yes, yes, I understand all that,” interrupted Mr. Chester impatiently, “but who are the managing owners?”
Jim could contain himself no longer. “We are!” he shouted. “Tom and I!”
Mr. Chester was speechless. “What?” he gasped presently. “You two boys are the ship’s owners?”
“I’ll say we are!” cried Tom. “We took the money we got for our lays of the ambergris and bought up the controlling shares to-day. Mr. Nye said it was a good investment. And so we invited ourselves, and we won’t let the Narwhal sail unless we go, and we’re going to hire all the old Hector’s crew.”
“Well I’ll be——” began Mr. Chester, and then, a smile broadening on his face, he turned to the telephone.