“But enou’ of idle clavers; I’ll e’en get to what for I brought you here.” Shipowner Younger leans far back in his big chair, and contemplates young Jack Paul with a twinkle. “Now, lad,” he begins, “when from ‘prentice ye are come to be first mate among my ships, I’m to tell ye that from Dick Bennison who signed ye, to Ed’ard Denbigh whose first officer ye now be, all the captains ye’ve sailed wi’ declare ye a finished seaman. But”--here Shipowner Younger shakes his head as though administering reproof--“they add that ye be ower handy wi’ your fists.” “Why, then,” breaks in young Jack Paul, “how else am I to keep my watch in order! Besides, I hold it more humane to strike with your fist than with a belaying pin. The captains, I’ll warrant, have told you I thrashed none but ship’s bullies.” “They’ll have told me nothing of the kind,” returns Shipowner Younger. “They said naught of bullies. What they did observe was that ye just pounded the faces of the fo’c’sle hands in the strict line of duty. Why, they said the whole ship’s crew loved ye like collie dogs! It seems ye’ve a knack of thrashing yourself into their hearts.” Young Jack Paul’s eyes show pleasure and relief; he perceives he is not being scolded. “And now,” says Shipowner Younger, donning the alert manner of your true-born merchant approaching pounds, shillings and pence--“and now, having put the compliments and the lecture astern, we’ll even get doon to business. As I was tellin’, I’m about to retire from the ships. I’m rich enou’; and, being called to gi’ counsel to the King, I want no exter-aneous interests to distract me. The fair truth is, I’ve sold all but the bark ye’re now wi’, the _John O’ Gaunt_, ye’ll ken; and that’s to be sold to-day.” “You’ll sell our _John O’ Gaunt_, sir? Who is to own it?” “Ed’ard Denbigh, your captain, is to own five-sixths of her, for which he’ll pay five thousand pounds; being dog-cheap”--here a deep sigh--“as I’m a Christian! As for the remaining sixth, lad, why it’s to be yours. Ye’ll sail oot o’ Whitehaven this v’yage in your own ship, partners wi’ Ed’ard Denbigh.” “But, sir,” protests young Jack Paul, his voice startled into a tremor, “with all thanks for your goodness, I’ve got no thousand pounds. You know the wages of a mate.’’