They all had to count the money over twice; it seemed too much to be true; and little Israel bit and rung the silver pieces. Then Manuel made them go to a restaurant on Atlantic Avenue to breakfast, and although Cap'n 'Siah thought it was reckless extravagance, he murmured all the way that Manuel was a "dreadful cute little Portergee." At the restaurant he met two sea-captains who were old friends, and had so good a time that he forgot how reckless it all was.
But when the Delight had set sail for her homeward voyage he grew silent and dejected. He wished he had a vessel he owned; the old captains had told him that he ought to go sandin'; that there was money in it.
"But the Delight! She will be so good a vessel for that," said Manuel, calmly. "It is true that I have contracts with the canning factory to deliver many herring—and mackerel too, in their season; but there will be times—oh, plenty, until we buy another boat, to use her for the sanding too!"
"What in nater are you talking about? Don't you know that Michael Fretas won't lend his boat?" growled Cap'n 'Siah.
"The Delight she begin to-day to be mine. I agree to pay the first instalment from the herring money; after that it will be easy, and—the disrespect I lament him—but if you would share in the business—and afterwards young Josiah—and with Mees Caddy to keep the home port snug—" Manuel took off his old cap, with one of his beautiful bows.
"And I thought of letting you go away," said Cap'n 'Siah, with something between a growl and a sob in his throat.
"Oh, but I should not—nevair!" cried Manuel, his little peaked face alight. "You that have been so good and make true home for me, should I leave you to take care of yourself?"
Cap'n 'Siah's great grizzly chin actually quivered; he threw back his head and laughed to hide it. "If you ain't the all-tiredest little Portergee!" he said.
