“The deed you handed me declares Thomas Halstead and Joseph Dawson to be the joint owners,” replied the Boston broker. “The deed also names me as trustee until the young men become of age, or until they dispose of the boat with my consent.”
“Tell them the rest, Prescott,” laughed Mr. Delavan, hurrying away to avoid being thanked. “They take me for a jester.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything like that,” protested the young skipper. “Only it all seemed so wonderful, so much as though we were dreaming.”
“Tom Halstead, what’s your course?” broke in Joe, rather sharply. “Are you trying to beach on Bedloe’s Island, or collide with the Statue of Liberty!”
Truth to tell, Halstead had, for a moment, almost forgotten that he was handling the boat.
“It’s all true,” Mr. Prescott went on heartily, “and I congratulate both of you youngsters on your fine piece of property. Of course Delavan knows you boys haven’t the means to run such a craft as this for pleasure, but he hopes and believes you can make a fine thing out of the boat by chartering her to other people and going along to navigate the boat. Until you become solidly established in this business you can draw against me for supplies. Delavan has handed me a small sum for that purpose.”
“But a boat like this costs a fortune,” declared Joe, staggered, for once.
“She cost something like fourteen thousand dollars to build,” replied the Boston broker. “The former owner has had her two years, and now wants a bigger boat, so he put this one up for sale. Delavan heard of it to-day, and asked me, as a favor, to hurry over to Brooklyn and look the craft over. On my report he bought the ‘Soudan’ for you two.”
“But this boat is still worth a fortune,” choked Halstead. “It wouldn’t seem right for us to take such a magnificent present.”