“Niece? Oh, Amy, you mean—Miss Rivers? Ah, my dear sir! from the love we have for her in this household, and the way we treat her, you naturally fancy she is a blood relation. It is a graceful compliment for you to pay, Mr. Onslow; but it is my duty to correct you. Miss Rivers is legally only my ward.”
“Ward? Oh, see that? Red hard against the cushion, and white bang over the bottom pocket. Neat cannon, wasn’t it, considering the long time since I’ve handled a cue?”
“The only child of my late partner. You know, the firm still stands as Marmaduke Rivers and Shelf. We call ourselves on the billheads, ‘Agents to the Oceanic Steam Transport Co.,’ though, of course, we really own the whole line. You see our flag, sir, in every sea.”
“I know. Nagasaki to Buenos Ayres; gin and gunpowder on the West Coast; coals and cotton at New Orleans.”
“And we do not send our steamers for the business of trade alone, Mr. Onslow. We pick our captains and officers with an eye to a holier purpose. We trust that they spread a Christian influence in all their ports of call,” observed Mr. Shelf unctuously.
“Yes; I saw them at work once at Axim, on a tramp steamer you sent down there. They were taking Krooboys on board. The skipper received them on one of the bridge-deck ladders with a knuckleduster, and kicked ’em along. The chief stood by with a monkey-wrench and tickled them with that as they passed down to the lower deck aft. They mentioned at the time that this process had a fine Christianizing influence; prevented the boys from being uppish; showed ’em what the white man could do when he liked; taught ’em humility, in fact. I say, there’s a pull towards this bottom pocket. People have been sitting on the table.”
“Mr. Onslow—Mr. Onslow, you are making a very serious accusation against one of my ship’s companies.”
“Accusations? I? Never a bit of it. The fellows only acted according to their lights. That’s the only way sailormen know of getting Krooboys to work; and it was a case of squeezing the work out of them or having the natural sack from you. And so, as they didn’t know another method, they fell back on knuckleduster and monkey-wrench. I’ll play you fifty up.”
Mr. Shelf put up a large white hand. “No; I don’t play billiards myself. So many young men have been ruined by the pursuit, that I refrain from it by way of setting an example. But my friends who visit here are not so scrupulous, and I have the table for them.”