"Shut up!" he shouted. "Everybody shut up and listen to me!"
It was the old dominating note. Those of the crowd that heard his voice turned to look. It was a vivid group they saw; the tall boy, with thin, eager face, fine gray eyes and a flashing wistful smile that caught the heart, and with a steadying arm thrown round Jim's thighs, the Greek lad, with his uncovered hair liquid gold in the June sun, his beautiful brown face flushed and laughing, while crowded close to Sara was the pink-cheeked girl, her face upturned to look at Jim.
"Hey! Everybody! Keep still and listen to me!" repeated Jim.
In the hush that came, the chatter in the cabin below and the rear deck sounded remote.
"I've been appointed a committee of one to welcome you to America!" cried Jim. "Welcome to our land. And when you get tired of New York, remember that it's not in America. America lies beyond the Hudson. Enjoy yourselves. Take everything that isn't nailed down."
"Who gave the country to you, kid?" asked a voice in the crowd.
"My ancestors who, three hundred years ago, stole it from the Indians," answered Jim with a smile.
A roar of laughter greeted this. "How'd you manage to keep it so long?" asked someone else.
"Because you folks hadn't heard of it," replied the boy.