"A thousand tons! The seas would break their backs in the first blow."
"Ship-builders have been saying that with each additional inch since the beginning. So don't worry me with it; I want the vessels, and they are to be built on this river. The Siddons yard has always laid down the keels for Rufus Stevens' Sons; so get your computers to work; see that the timbers are properly seasoned, and the ironmongery gotten under way."
"There must be new ways erected; there must be new docks," complained the ship-builder. "The outlay will be frightful."
"But think of the income, Siddons," said Charles. "Think of passing the Delaware Capes, inbound from Calcutta, in seventy days." And as Siddons paused in the act of gathering up his sheets of paper, and gazed at him, his jaw hanging slack, Charles laughed and said, "How old is your son, Siddons?"
"Twenty, passed."
"Get him into the yards as quickly as you can. You need a fresh eye. Before he has reached your limitations, a two months' trip from the same port will be thought a long one." As the ship-builder moved toward the door, Charles added, "When can you give me the figures?"
"In a week," replied the man.
"Excellent! In a week I shall expect them."
A number of times in his limping up and down the floor, Charles had passed within a few feet of Anthony, but he had not paid the slightest attention to him; now, as he closed the door upon Siddons, he turned with a boyish smile and looked at him.
"Anthony!" said he. "Robert's Anthony!" And, as he looked, the smile changed in character; the pleased look in his eyes became one of wonder. "You should have been called Rufus, for your grandfather," he said. "How old are you?"