“No. I saw him yesterday forenoon, and we went into a clinch and fought each other all over my private office. Matt got the decision. I thought he might have called you up to discuss with you his plans for the future. When he left me yesterday he was on his way back to the office of the Red Stack Tugboat Company to tell the port captain he could stick some other skipper on the tug Sea Fox.”
Florence clapped her hands ecstatically. “Oh, goody, goody!” she cried.
“Well, it might be worse.”
“Why is he resigning? To go to work for you, as I wanted him to do six months ago?”
“Well, I'll tell you, Florry,” Cappy began. “I know you're going to be disappointed, but the fact of the matter is we've just got to let that boy paddle his own canoe—though, to hear him talk, he's going to operate his own line of steamers! Matt doesn't think in canoes when the subject of the merchant marine is up for discussion any more than I think in cent pieces when I'm wrestling with a banker for a loan. He has resigned from the tug Sea Fox to go into business for himself!”
“But how can he? He hasn't any money, you silly man!”
“Oh, yes, he has. I gave him twenty thousand dollars yesterday. He had that much credit on the Blue Star books from his share of the recharter of the steamer Unicorn nearly two years ago.”
“But I thought you weren't going to give him any of that money,” Florence protested.
“I thought so, too,” Cappy answered dryly; “but the scoundrel put up a low-down job on me and pried the twenty thousand loose,” and Cappy proceeded to relate to Florry the sad tale of the salvage of the Retriever.
Florence was gifted with the same lovable sense of humor that distinguished her father; and, somewhat to his annoyance, she laughed long and heartily at this tale of how her fiance had vanquished him.