“Then the Chamber of Deputies met and voted the Frenchman and the Englishman back their forfeited earnest money; and they gave me back my checks, and I wrote new ones for the same amount and split the swag fifty-fifty between the two nations for the care of their wounded. Then I gave a dinner aboard the submarine, and President Poincare was present. I presented the submarine, with the compliments of the Blue Star Navigation Company, to the Republic of France, and the President accepted, all hands went out on deck and we cracked a bottle of champagne over that submersible's bows and rechristened her.”
“What name?” Matt and Skinner chorused.
“The Shamrock—out of compliment to Mike and Terence.”
“Fine!” Matt cried. “Then what?”
“Nothing, Matt. Our business was finished and I was anxious to get back on the job; so we engaged skippers and crews to bring our four freighters to New York, and came home.
“Better step lively, boy, and dig up some business for them! Mike will give you the data on their tonnage.”
Matt drew Mike Murphy aside.
“Tell me, Mike,” he whispered, “did the old man get soused at that dinner aboard the Shamrock?”
“Look here, Matt,” Murphy answered; “what Monsieur le Capitaine Ricks does outside of office hours is none of my business—or yours, either. And if you don't like that answer help yourself to a new port captain. I'm not telling everything I know, Matt.”