It was arranged to celebrate the occasion with a dinner at Mr. Densmore’s club. Dan’s ship was in port, and he, too, was to share in the honors. Paul insisted that the dinner would be incomplete without Captain Bluntt, and after many persuasive letters and cablegrams the Captain was prevailed upon to journey again to New York, and to bring with him Skipper Rudd o’ the Ready Hand, Dan’s “Dad,” ostensibly to pay Dan a brief visit.
It was a jolly dinner, free from formality. Remington, Ainsworth and a half dozen of Paul’s college friends were there. Densmore at the head of the table acted as toastmaster, with Dan at his right and Paul at his left, which was in accordance with Paul’s wish.
When coffee was served, Densmore, after extending a welcome to the guests, announced that they had been asked to join not simply in the celebration of Paul’s advancement to the superintendency of the Atlantic and Pacific Steamship Company, but also in the celebration of his first official act as an officer of the company. Of this, he said, Paul would speak for himself.
Paul began with a humorous description of his introduction to Captain Bluntt and the North Star, which pleased the Captain wondrously, and created much merriment. Then he passed on to the days when he and Dan were cast away, of how Dan’s resourcefulness and optimism, leavened with the philosophy of Skipper Rudd, had kept up his spirits; of Dan’s courage and high ability; of the strong and enduring friendship between him and Dan, a friendship akin to brotherly affection.
“Not alone the high esteem in which I hold Dan Rudd, but his marked efficiency as a navigator, as shown by his record while in the employ of our company, has induced me, as my first act as an official, to appoint him first officer of the steamship Amazonian, and to announce that he is also first in line for advancement to a captaincy.”
Dan was quite overcome. He had received no hint of the proposed appointment, and when he arose to express his thanks, emotion choked his voice.
“I can’t get words to thank you, Paul,” said he. Then after a pause, lapsing, under emotion, into the old vernacular, he continued: “I were not expectin’ this. I hopes I’ll prove worthy. You’re wonderful good, Paul—sayin’ all those things. But I want t’ say, Paul, you’re th’ grittiest mate I ever cruised with, an’ you were doin’ more than I did t’ work us out of the bush when we were cast away. I’m just a sailor, not used to talkin’, an’ I can’t get th’ words t’ say what I wants to—but—but—I’m wonderful thankful.”
The moment Dan sat down Captain Bluntt was on his feet.
“That’s it! That’s it!” he blurted. “Told you so, Mr. Remington! Yes, sir! Told you Dan Rudd would be a skipper some day! Had the makin’ of a skipper! Yes, sir, he had! Lad of his parts sure to come to it! I’m proud! Proud!”
Then Dan’s “Dad” was called upon for a word. The rough, kindly old sailor-trapper, tanned and weather-beaten, was plainly laboring under embarrassment.