"Yes, yes, Captain Hanson. A fine lad, isn't he? What was it you were starting to say, Lancelot?"
I grabbed Hanson's arm. I thought he was going to blow his tubes and hit somebody right then and there. But before he got a chance, Lancelot Biggs was talking again. To the Captain.
"Captain Hanson," he said seriously, "I wish you'd told me this before. I didn't realize that our cargo was so important—"
Then he turned to the committee.
"I hope you will not be surprised to learn, gentlemen, that our cargo is not vegetable. At the last minute, Captain Hanson decided to make a change—"
Hanson's face turned white. He squawked, "What! Are you trying to shift the blame to—"
Biggs' voice drowned out his protest.
"—and so, gentlemen, we have placed the cargo right here for your inspection. Look!" With a swift motion he tore the tarpaulin off the Forenzi jars. I looked—and gulped! They were the same jars, all right. Only different! They were no longer a dull, whitish metal. They were a glinting copper color! Biggs patted one of them affectionately.
"Ask your appraisers to estimate the value of these, gentlemen. I think they'll find their value to be approximately a quarter of a million dollars. These are—pure gold!"
It's a good thing I was holding on to Captain Hanson's arm. For just as the committee was exclaiming, "Excellent! Excellent trading, Captain Hanson!" the skipper's nerves gave out. He collapsed like a punctured bulger. I remember shouting, "Water! Water, somebody!" Then I passed out, too!