“It isn’t a very big sum of money, is it, Uncle?” I asked, diffidently.
“That depends on how you look at it,” he answered. “Big oaks from little acorns grow, you know. If you leave the matter to me, I’ll try to make that thousand sprout considerable, before you come of age.”
“Of course I’ll leave it to you,” said I. “And I am very grateful for your kindness, sir.”
“Don’t you turn your gratitude loose too soon, Sam. I may land your fortunes high an’ dry on the rocks, afore I’ve got through with ’em. But if I do it won’t be on purpose, an’ we’ll sink or swim together. An’ now, that bein’ as good as settled, the next thing to argy is what you’re a-goin’ to do while I’m sailin’ the seas an’ making money for you.”
“What would you suggest?” I asked.
“Well, some folks might think you ought to have more schoolin’. How old are you?”
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Can you read an’ write, an’ do figgers?”
“Oh, yes; I’ve finished the public school course,” I replied, smiling at the simple question.
“Then I guess you’ve had study enough, my lad, and are ready to go to work. I never had much schoolin’ myself, but I’ve managed to hold my own in the world, in spite of the way letters an’ figgers mix up when I look at ’em. Not but what eddication is a good thing; but all eddication don’t lay in schools. Rubbin’ against the world is what polishes up a man, an’ the feller that keeps his eyes open can learn somethin’ new every day. To be open with you, Sam, I need you pretty bad on the ‘Flipper’, to keep the books an’ look after the accounts, an’ do writin’ an’ spellin’ when letters has to be writ. On the last trip I put in four days hard work, writin’ a letter that was only three lines long. An’ I’m blamed if the landsman I sent it to didn’t telegraph me for a translation. So, if you’re willin’ to ship with the firm of Perkins & Steele, I’ll make you purser an’ chief clerk.”