“Nothing, you big squarehead, but do you know what that grease is you threw overboard?”
“Naw. I found it floating off the Gilbert Islands. Saw some sea birds picking at it, so I put off a boat and investigated. Looked like good grease so I hauled a couple of barrels aboard and used it like I told you to grease down the masts.”
“They’re fine sticks, Swanson,” grinned Father. “They ought to be, greased down with a hundred thousand dollars worth of ambergris.”
Swanson gulped and turned pale. His eyes were almost popping out of his head.
“Huh? Ambergris?” he gasped.
“Yes, ambergris!” shouted Father. “Worth thirty-two dollars an ounce. And you threw a barrel of it overboard. You threw away a fortune, you goddamned, ignorant, stingy squarehead.” And Father lay back in his chair and roared with laughter.
Swanson was livid now. “You think you’re smart, don’t you?” he yelled. “Only don’t forget this—there was twice as much stuff there as I took. I know where it is and I’ll go back and get it.”
“Good luck,” laughed Father, “if you can find it again you’re entitled to it.”
“I’ll find it,” were the grim parting words of the squarehead Captain.
Going back in the small boat to our ship I asked Father what ambergris was.