“Perks,” he said sharply. “’Badiah P. Perks, o’ New York. What’s your’n?”
I told him.
“Hah, yes. I could see you warn’t an A-murray-can. I’ll take you if you’ll pay.”
“Oh, I’ll pay a reasonable fare for our party,” I replied.
“Party, eh? How many?”
“My uncle, his wife and daughter, and us two,” I said.
“And that makes five, stranger. Baggage?”
“Yes,” I said, “Let’s look.”
I hesitated for a moment, and then took him into the room where our neat little chests were packed, one on the top of the other, with a couple of blankets thrown over them.
“Hah!” said the skipper, trying one of the iron-bound cases. “Precious heavy, mister. What’s in ’em?”