The return clicking spelt out, “He will give two-thirds of original price, if you will dock the ship for complete repairs at Hull.”
There was a long pause now. A consultation was being held. That was evident.
Then the wire rattled off, “A bargain! We will confirm our telegram by letter to-night. Good-bye, Brace, till we see you.”
“Good-bye, owners. Trust no ill feeling. Will lie here a week.”
Then Brace got up, and Ingomar and he shook hands.
“I have a great respect for you, Captain Brace,” said Ingomar. “To look at your jolly British face, I would not have credited you with such thorough business tact and judgment. Why, it is downright Americano!”
“Thank you; and now we’ll go and dine.”
“One minute, my friend. Who should my banker be in London? Thanks. Well, I’ll write a line to mine in New York, and they’ll soon make business straight for us in old England. Ah! my dear old father will know I’ve turned up again, and that my pride is softened will be shown by the fact that I am drawing on my pile for £200,000. I’m like the Germans, sir. There is no use going to war unless you’ve got the sinews and nerve, and we are going to war with the Antarctic Pole. There is nothing to be done without cash in this world.”
Brace’s first mate, with Charlie and Walt, came on shore soon, and all repaired to the chief hotel, and no schoolboys could have enjoyed “a blow-out” more thoroughly than these five enjoyed their first dinner on land, after so long and so dreary a time in Arctic seas.
For one of the chief pleasures in a sailor’s life lies in the getting back to the bonnie green shores of Britain again, after months or years of sailing on far-off foreign seas.