“I desire that Tamea be educated and affianced to some decent fellow. Tamea, hear your father. You are not to marry any man Monsieur Dan Pritchard does not approve of.”
Dan looked at her. “I promise,” she replied simply.
“You are to be her guardian, Dan.”
“Very well, Gaston,” said Dan instantly, “since you desire it. I shall try to discharge the office in a commendable manner.”
“That, my boy, is why the office is yours. For your trouble you shall have my gratitude while I live and the gratitude of Tamea after I am dead. Also, you shall be the executor of my estate, which will bring you a nice fee, and in addition the largest and most beautiful pearl in that lot is yours. It will make a magnificent setting for a ring for the woman you may marry—if you have not married.”
“I still revel in single blessedness, Gaston.”
The sailor nodded approvingly. “Time enough to settle down after you are forty,” he agreed. “You will select the pearl, however. It is yours now. It is magnificent. Its equal is not to be found in the world, I do believe. The heart of it has a warm glow, like my old heart when I think of my friendship for your good father and for you—when I think of Tamea and Tamea’s wonderful mother. Damnation! I have lived! I have known love; my great carcass has quivered to the thrill of life as a schooner quivers in the grip of a willi-waw!” He smiled wistfully at Dan. Then: “Well, bring down your lawyer, Dan. I would make my will, leaving all I possess to Tamea.”
At a summons from Dan, Henderson came down into the cabin and was introduced to Gaston of the Beard and his daughter. The last will and testament of the Triton was as simple as the man who signed it, and Dan and the lawyer appended their signatures as witnesses.
“Now then, Gaston,” said Dan, “of what does your estate consist?”
“These pearls, the money due me for disbursements made for account of the Moorea and her owners, my interest in the Moorea and these drafts on San Francisco. I have no real estate, and I owe nobody. Neither does anybody owe me.”