“If he is to have a navy,” cried O’Shea as he pounded his friend on the back, “I know where he can find an admiral and a fleet engineer.”
“Not so fast, Cap’n Mike. I have a notion that he’ll have his own troubles gettin’ to his kingdom. Any man that can be buncoed as easy as he was is liable to have all his playthings taken away from him before he has a chance to use ’em. I’ll feel safer about him when he gets clear of London River.”
Before seeking the royal audience next morning they went to Leadenhall Street to see George Huntley. The ship-broker greeted them indignantly.
“You would try to hoodwink me, would you?” exclaimed he. “I have found out who your mysterious king is. I received a letter from him last night, asking information about the price of the Tyneshire Glen. I had no idea it was this crazy Colonel Sydenham-Leach that calls himself ruler of Trinadaro.”
“Own up like a man, George,” shouted O’Shea. “Ye would like nothing better than to be this kind of a king yourself.”
“You have read my thoughts like a wizard. But, confound you, you have spoiled the sale of a steamer for me. How about that?”
“We have tried to keep an estimable king from going to Davy Jones’s locker in a floating coffin that ye call the Tyneshire Glen,” severely retorted O’Shea. “Have ye any steamers that will pass honest men’s inspection?”
“Plenty of them,” promptly answered Huntley.
“Then we will look at two or three of them to-day, after we have paid our respects to His Majesty. We will not let him be cheated out of his eye-teeth. We have decided to protect him. Isn’t that so, Johnny?”
“He needs us, Cap’n Mike.”