"I believe they got some of it from Cathcart on the salvage claim, and Leeson and two or three of his friends raised the rest. The Adelaide and Merril's house were sold at auction. I heard it from Jordan, who was over here a week ago, and it's scarcely necessary to say that he's going to send you in the new boat. He seems to have some notion of trying to get into the South Sea trade, too, and I shouldn't wonder if eventually you're made general supervisor of the Shasta Company's growing fleet."
Jimmy was sensible of a thrill of satisfaction, but he changed the subject. "You have given up your chartering?"
"I have," said Valentine, with a curious smile. "The people who hired my boat had an unsettling effect on me, and now I'm going to try the halibut fishing with a couple of Siwash hands. Austerly's was my last charter—I don't think I shall ever take another."
Jimmy nodded, for he felt that he understood. "Well," he said, "in one way it wouldn't be nice to see anybody else occupying that after-cabin. Of course, the notion is a fanciful one, but I shouldn't like to think of it myself."
Again the curious little smile flickered into Valentine's eyes. "It is scarcely likely to happen. I think you will understand my views when I show you the room."
Jimmy went aft with him through the saloon, and Valentine, unlocking a door beneath the companion slide, opened it gently. The fashion in which he did it had its significance, and Jimmy understood altogether as he looked into the little room. It was immaculate. Bulkhead and paneling gleamed with snowy paint, the berths with their varnished ledges were filled with spotless linen, and there was not a speck on the deck beneath. A few fresh sprays of balsam that hung beneath the beams diffused a faint aromatic fragrance.
"Those," said Valentine gravely, "are to keep out the smell of the halibut. I shouldn't like it to come in here. She had the lower berth. The top one was Miss Merril's."
Jimmy felt the blood rise to his face. Valentine's manner was very quiet, and there was not the slightest trace of sentimentality in it, but Jimmy felt that he knew what he was thinking. Besides, Anthea had slept in that little snowy berth. They turned away without a word, when Valentine carefully fastened the door, and the latter had sat down again in the forecastle before Jimmy spoke.
"Have you heard anything of Miss Austerly lately?" he asked.
Valentine lighted the lamp beneath the beams, for it was growing dark, and taking something from a box in the upper berth stood still a moment with it in his hands. They were scarred and hardened by physical toil, and the man was big and bronzed and very quiet, though every line of his face and figure was stamped with the wholesome vigor of the sea.