“Oh, Lord, Lord! Am I surrounded by unfaithful employees? Goodness, is there no one on the James Kennedy that I can trust except you, boy? Who else is there in authority?”
“There’s Mr. Davis, sir—the next officer. But he’s lost his glasses and can’t see. We’ve just been through a terrible storm, sir.”
“Yes, yes, I read about it in the newspapers. But I thought you would be in port at Detroit. Is there no one else?”
Sandy pondered. Then his face brightened. “There’s Sam and Gunnar.”
“Sam! Who on earth is Sam? Oh, no, no—never mind, Sandy. Forget that question. Goodness knows I have good reason to trust your judgment. Put Sam on, whoever he is!”
Sandy grinned.
“Get Sam up here, Cookie,” he shouted. Then, returning to Mr. Kennedy, he asked, “Anything else, sir?”
“Anything else! My goodness, boy—what else is there? For the second time within a week, I find myself in your debt.”
Sandy was too embarrassed to make any comment, and Mr. Kennedy rushed on, “I don’t know how to thank you, boy—but I’ll think of something. Remember, you’re to call me the moment you arrive in Buffalo. Both you and your friend. By the way, how is he?”
“Jerry? Oh, he’s all right, sir—just a sprained ankle from the storm.”