“My goodness! You have had a stormy voyage, haven’t you?”
Sandy grinned again, remembering the plunge into Lake Superior to save Cookie, the fire in the galley as the James Kennedy steamed into Lake Huron, that spanking storm on Lake Erie—to say nothing of the combined badgering of Mr. Briggs and Captain West. But Sandy saw no reason to tell Mr. Kennedy exactly how right he was. He just felt good, that was all—so he grinned again and said: “Yes, sir, I guess you could call it a stormy voyage. Here’s Sam.”
Sam stepped up and took the telephone from Sandy’s outstretched hand. His manner was hesitant, for he had never spoken to the owner of the line before. His face was grave, but as he listened, his eyes grew wider and wider. Finally, with an expression of amazement and a snappy, “Yes, sir!” he hung up and turned to Sandy and Cookie.
“Well, what do you know?” he murmured.
“Well, what?”
“I’m in charge!”
Cookie’s mouth popped open. He began to dance in excitement, flipping his apron in the air. “Hooray for Sam!” he shouted. “Yippee! Yip, yip—yippeee!”
“All right, Cookie,” Sam cautioned, laughing. “Take it easy, now. It’s only until we get to Buffalo.”
“Who cares?” Cookie yelled. “Let’s celebrate, anyway. I’ll bake a cake!”
Both Sandy and Sam had to laugh again at the capering little man. His eyes shone when he promised to bake a cake, but when Sandy reminded him that he would have to do it with burned flour, a sly look came over his face and he pointed an accusing finger at the blond youth and shouted, “It’s all his fault, Skipper! There’s the culprit! That’s the landlubber who burned down my nice, new galley!”