The Maria was a good boat, but she had not been built to
try conclusions with a Far Harbor tug.
My client, in spite of the ominous condition of his opal, was not slow to
make his intentions exceedingly clear. For Mr. Cooke was first and last,
and always, a gentleman. After that you might call him anything you
pleased. Meditatively he screwed up his glasses and buckled them into
the case, and then he descended to the cockpit. It was the Celebrity he
singled out of the party.
"Allen," said he, when he stood before him, "I want to impress on you
that my word's gold. I've stuck to you thus far, and I'll be damned now
if I throw you over, like they did Jonah."
Mr. Cooke spoke with a fine dignity that in itself was impressive, and
when he had finished he looked about him until his eye rested on Mr.
Trevor, as though opposition were to come from that quarter. And the
senator gave every sign of another eruption. But the Celebrity, either
from lack of appreciation of my client's loyalty, or because of the
nervousness which was beginning to show itself in his demeanor, despite
an effort to hide it, returned no answer. He turned on his heel and
resumed his seat in the cabin. Mr. Cooke was visibly affected.
"I'd sooner lose my whip hand than go back on him now," he declared.
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