“And das iss de trut’,” declared Stronson. “Dey wass sister ships—like das Seamew and Gullwing. Nopoty can keep dem apart when dey gets jest so near to each odder.”
“That’s so! I bet that was what did it more than the Barney boys,” agreed Job Perkins.
“Sich things happen, as we knows,” said Tom Thornton.
And I declare, all the old fellows went off on this tangent and accepted this idea as the true explanation for the sinking of the Seamew. They talked it over and became more and more positive that it was so. The superstition that the sister ships had a natural attraction for each other took a firm hold upon their minds. I could see plainly that if the firm had any of these old barnacles into court, they would swear to this ridiculous idea. At least, it might throw a bit of weight against the idea that the Barney boys had deliberately wrecked the two ships.
“Jest the same,” observed old Tom, slowly, “study on it as we may, there’s one place where it’ll be decided for sure, as far as the legal end of it goes. The insurance court will have the last say.”
“Wrong you be, Tom,” declared Job, “wrong you be. The final settlement of the hull matter will be in the offices of Barney, Blakesley & Knight. Never mind what the court says, nor how the insurance is adjusted; them two boys will hafter go before the firm.”
“By mighty! that’s so,” agreed Tom.
“And the way it’s turned out,” pursued Job, “it looks like Mr. Jim Barney would have the best of it.”
“How so?” we asked.
“Don’t you see that he’s bound ter be first ashore at Baltimore?” and the Seamew’s oldest hand chuckled. “He’s come through on his ship and will stand first in the old man’s estimation—no matter how he done it. Ye know Jothan Barney.”