"Captain Wa.s.s, will you step aside with me a moment?" asked the mate.

"What for?"

"I want to have a word with you."

"Have it right here," said the captain, tartly. "I never have any business that's got to be whispered behind corners." He scowled when his mate gave him a wink, both suggestive and imploring. "Spit it out!"

"The law doesn't allow us to take pa.s.sengers, as you suggest. And naturally you don't like to act without orders from owners." He looked at Mr. Fogg as he spoke, plainly offering apology to that gentleman.

"But we need a second steward and--"

"We don't!" Captain Wa.s.s was blunt and tactless.

"I beg pardon--we really do. And we can sign this young man in a--a sort of nominal way, and then when we get to Philadelphia we'll probably find the matter all straightened out."

"What's your name?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Boyd Mayo, sir. First mate."

"Mr. Mayo, you're a young man with a lot of common sense," declared Fogg.

To himself, staring at the young man, he said: "I'm going to play this game out with two-spots, and here's one ready for the draw!"

"I'll see you in Philadelphia, Mr. Mayo," he continued, aloud. "I am exactly what I say I am. Captain Wa.s.s, you've got something coming to you. Mr. Mayo, you've got something coming to you, also--and it's good!" His a.s.sertiveness was compelling, and even the captain displayed symptoms of being impressed. "It isn't at all necessary that my agent make this trip with you, Captain Wa.s.s. Perhaps I had no distinct right to bring him here. But I am a hustling sort of a business man and I want to get at matters in short order. However, I ask no favors. Come on, Boyne!"

"We'll sign him on as steward to cover the law," proffered the captain, as terse in consent as he was in refusal.

"Very well," agreed Fogg. "You've got an able first mate, sir." He flipped his watch out. "I've got a train to make, gentlemen. Good day!"

He took Boyne by the arm and led him to the ladder from the bridge.

"Son," said he, "you dig into that Mayo chap till you know him up and down and through and through. I'm going to use him. And you keep your mouth shut about yourself." He backed down the ladder, feeling his way cautiously with his fat legs, trotted to the waiting cab, and was whirled away.

At high noon the next day Fletcher Fogg marched into the general offices of the Vose line in company with ten solid-looking citizens.

Imperturbable and smiling, he allowed President Vose to shriek anathema and to wave the certified copy of the record of the annual meeting under the snub Fogg nose.

"What you say doesn't change the situation in the least," affirmed Mr.

Fogg. "You'll find the actual records of the meeting deposited in the usual place in the state of your incorporation. If you think these new directors are not lawfully and duly elected, you can apply to the courts."

"You confounded thief, it's likely to take a year to get a decision.

This is d.a.m.nable. It's piracy. You know what courts are!"

"Poke up your courts, then. It isn't my fault if they're slow."

The new directors filed into the board-room and with great celerity proceeded to elect Fletcher Fogg to be president and general manager of the Vose line.

"What are you going to do?" pleaded the deposed executive head. "My money is in here--my whole life is in it--my pride--my intention to see that the public gets a square deal. You infernal rogue, what are you going to do with my property?"

"That's my own business," said Fletcher Fogg.

"You can't get away with it--you can't do it!" raged Vose. "I'll get at the inside of how that meeting was conducted. You'd better take backwater right now, Fogg, and save yourself. I'm not afraid to tell you what I'm going to do. I'll have a temporary injunction issued. I'll prove fraud was used at that meeting--bribery, yes, sir!"

Mr. Fogg smiled and sat down at the president's desk. "First he'll have to find a young man by the name of David Boyne," he told himself.

"Vose," said the new president, "all you can show a court is the record of an annual meeting, duly and legally held. And if the judge wants to have a look at me he'll find me running this line a blamed sight better than you have ever run it."

"It's a cheap, plain trick," bleated the aged steamship manager. "Your crowd is going to sell out to the Paramount--it's your plot."

"Oh no! We're not inviting injunctions and law and newspaper talk and slurs and slander, Mr. Vose. If there's ever any selling out you'll be the first to suggest it; I never shall. You see, I'm just as frank with you as you are with me. Selling this line to the Paramount right now, just because the new board is in, would be ragged work--very coa.r.s.e work. Thank Heaven, I have a proper respect for the law--and what it can do to bother a fool. I am not a fool, Mr. Vose."

XIX - THE PRIZE PACKAGE FROM MR. FOGG

Our captain stood on his quarter-deck, And a fine little man was he!

"Overhaul, overhaul, on your davit tackle fall, And launch your boats to the sea, Brave boys! And launch your boats to the sea."

--The Whale.

A slowing, tug, tooting fussy and staccato blasts which Captain Wa.s.s translated into commands to hold up, intercepted the _Nequa.s.set_ in Hampton Roads.

Mr. Fletcher Fogg was a pa.s.senger on the tug. In a suit of natty gray, he loomed conspicuously in the alley outside the tug's pilot-house. He cursed roundly when he toilsomely climbed the ladder to the freighter's deck, for the rusty sheathing s.m.u.tched the knees of his trousers.

"I'm doing a little better than I promised you, captain," he stated when he arrived finally in the presence of the master. "I said Philadelphia.

But here I am. Do you know me now?"

"Your name is Fogg," returned Captain Wa.s.s, exhibiting no special delight.

"And I'm manager of this line. As it seems to be pretty hard for you to get anything through that thick nut of yours, I'll ask you to glance at a paper which will save argument."

The paper was an attested notification, signed by the directors, stating in laconic legal phrase what Mr. Fogg had just declared.

"You recognize my authority, do you?"

"Your bill o' lading reads O. K.," a.s.sented the skipper.

"Very well! Exactly! Then you take your orders. Proceed to an anchorage off Lambert Point below Norfolk, pick a berth well off the channel, and put down both hooks. The boat is going out of commission. I find you're not making any money for the owners."

"It ain't my fault. With charters at--" began the master, indignantly.

"I haven't any time for a joint debate. You are laid off. Bring your accounts to the main office as soon as you have turned the steamer over to the caretaker--he'll come out from Norfolk." Manager Fogg turned on his heel to meet Mate Mayo. "You will report at the main offices, too, Mr. Mayo. Have you master's papers?"

"I have, sir--Atlantic waters, Jacksonville to East-port."

"Very good--you're going to be promoted. I shall put you aboard the pa.s.senger-steamer _Montana_ as captain." He looked about sharply. "Where is my agent?"

"There, in the quartermaster's cabin. We gave him that," replied Captain Wa.s.s, gruffly. "I'm glad I'm out of steamboating. I've learned how to run a boarding-house and make money out of it."

Mr. Fogg did not understand that sneer, and he paid no attention to the captain's manner. He started for the cabin indicated.

"Well, you can swell around in gold braid now and catch your heiress,"