“At what price you hold your ship?” he persisted, turning again to my uncle.
“My dear sir,” was the perplexed reply, “we’ve never figured on selling the Seagull. We built it to keep—to have for our own use. We’re seamen, and it’s our home. If you’d ask us offhand what we’d sell our ears for, we’d know just as well what to answer.”
The man nodded, looking thoughtful.
“What the ship cost?” he asked.
“Something over two hundred thousand dollars.”
“United State America dollars?”
“Of course.”
Our visitor drew an envelope from his pocket; laid it on the table and scribbled some figures upon the back.
“Ver’ well,” he said, presently; “I take him at two hunder thousan’ dollar, American.”
“But—”