“And how about my plans? Your plans!” The man’s face was red. He stuttered in his rage. “Your plans! Your business! Floating a walnut shell in a teapot!”
“Pretty good old shell,” said Johnny, glancing up and down the deck.
“This ship!” said the magnate. “Slow and clumsy. A very derelict! The Arion now, she’s docked long since. If I had made Belize in time—”
“Wait,” said Johnny. A new, compelling light was in his eye. “You wait. Come this way. I’ll show you where you would have been.”
Scarcely knowing why he did it, the rich man followed the boy to the captain’s cabin where the ship’s log was kept.
Turning back the pages, Johnny found the record of that terrible night of storm. There, pasted in, was the wireless man’s record.
“Read that,” Johnny’s voice was solemn.
As the man read, his face took on a deadly pallor.
“My God!” he murmured. “Can that be true?”
“All quite true,” said Johnny huskily. “Had you not been becalmed out there in the Caribbean Sea, had you made Belize on time to catch the Arion, your Executive Council would now be in session. They would be electing a man to fill your place.”