But there was only the one. He was a solid built, quiet spoken chap, with a full set of red whiskers and a state of Maine accent. He said his name was Bassett, and that he was just packin' his things to go ashore, havin' heard that the boat had been sold. "The shore'll be there next month," says I. "What'll you take to stay on the job?" Well, he didn't want no iron worker's wages, bein' content with a captain's salary, so I tells him to take hold right where he left off and tell the rest of the gang they could do the same. So inside of half an hour I has a couple of dozen men on the pay roll. "Gee!" says I to Pinckney, "I'm glad the yachtin' season's most over when I begin; if it wa'n't I'm thinkin' I'd have to go out nights with a jimmy." But Pinckney's busy with his silver pencil, writin' down names. "There!" says he. "I've thought of a dozen nice people that I'm sure of, and perhaps I'll remember a few more in the mean time." "Say," says I, "have you got the Twombley-Cranes and Sadie on that list?" "Oh, certainly," says he, "especially Sadie." And then he grins. Well, for about four days I'm the busiest man out of a job in New York. I carries a bunch of railroad stocks on margin, trades off some Bronx buildin' lots for a cold water tenement, and unloads a street openin' contract that I bought off'm a Tammany Hall man. Every time I thinks of that steam yacht, with all them hands burnin' up my money, I goes out and does some more hustlin'. Say, there's nothin' like needin' the dough, for keepin' a feller up on his toes, is there? And when the time came to knock off, and I'd reckoned up how much I was to the good, I feels like Johnny Gates after he's cashed his chips. Yes, indeed, I was a gay boy as I goes aboard The Toreador and waits for the crowd to come along. I'd made myself a present of a white flannel suit and a Willie Collier yachtin' cap, and if there'd been an orchestra down front I could have done a yo-ho-ho baritone solo right off the reel. Pinckney shows up in good season, and he'd fetched his people, all right. There was a string of tourin' cars and carriages half a block long. They was all friends of mine, too; from Sadie to the little old bishop. And they was nice, decent folks. Maybe they don't have their pictures printed in the Sunday editions as often as some, but they're ice cutters, just the same. They all said it was lovely of me to remember 'em. "Ah, put it away!" says I. "You folks has been blowin' me, off'n on for a year, and this is my first set-up. I ain't wise to the way things ought to be done on one of these boudoir boats, but I wants everyone to be happy. Don't wait for the Who-wants-the-waiter call, but just act like you was all star boarders. Everything in sight is yours, from, the wicker chairs on deck, to what's in the ice box below. And I want to say right here that I'm mighty glad you've come. Now, Mr. Bassett, I guess you can tie her loose."