Captain Pott's Minister Part 12

"Gladly!" exclaimed the minister.

Beneath the rough exterior of this savage fighter there was the spirit of the true sportsman. The two men removed their gloves and gripped bare hands in a warm grasp.

"The fact of the matter is, you had me outcla.s.sed at every turn. Any man who could do what you have done to-night, after I'd thought I'd spied on you long enough to secure the key to all your strong points, could make his fortune in the ring. I'm heartily ashamed that I made myself a party to this plot to put you out. What your old friend has said is true: I'm a cur and a white-livered coward to sneak in on you the way I did."

"See here!" shouted Sim Hicks, abandoning all caution, "ain't you going to finish this little job you've been paid for?"

"It is finished, but it wasn't stipulated in the contract as to who was going to do the finishing."

"You----"

"Shet that trap of yours, Sim. If you don't it's li'ble to get another catch," threatened the Captain.

Hicks eyed the seaman, rubbed his swollen nose, and backed away.

Mr. Beaver did a corkscrew dance, and tried in vain to release the hold on his collar.

"Cap'n Pott!" exclaimed the surprised minister who noticed for the first time that the seaman was holding Mr. Beaver. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Well, this little shrimp was mighty interested in the boxing, and I thought he might as well come down for a few lessons that he wouldn't forget right off. I cal'lated to give him a few myself."

Mr. Beaver's face was purple. His words would probably have been of the same hue had there been any possibility of releasing them.

"Let him go, Cap'n, you're strangling him."

"He'd otter be choked, if he's as deep in this thing as I think he is.

But he ain't in no condition for a lesson to-night, he's a mite too worked up. Harry, I'll let you off, but if this here yarn gets out into the church through you or through the rest of the menagerie, we'll give you the little lesson I spoke about, and it will stick like glue to your anatomy. Now, you run along to Eadie, she'll be missing you, and I'd hate to send you home mussed up."

Mr. Beaver ran. With a dart he shot for the stair.

The members of the club escorted Mr. McGowan to the Captain's home. As he said good night, Hank Simpson came forward.

"Mr. McGowan, the fellers want to know if you'll be one of our members in regular standing."

Mr. McGowan expressed his delight, and declared he would like nothing better.

"He's 'lected, fellers!" shouted Hank.

A ringing cheer went up from the crowd. The Captain said to Elizabeth the next morning, when recounting what had taken place, "I was 'feared that Mack would be mad as hops the way them fellers carried on, but he wa'n't, not a mite. He seemed tolerable pleased about it. When the fellers asked a lot of foolish questions as to what was the matter with Mr. McGowan, and then answered them by saying that he was all right, Mack looked as happy as a school kid."

Hank once more whispered to the minister. The answer was apparently satisfactory, for the boys gave a parting cheer, declaring that they would all be present in church the following Sunday.

CHAPTER VI

The troublesome microbes, of which Captain Pott had so unmelodiously sung, had been driven out into the open, and were now doing a war-dance to a jazz tune. Into the domestic life of the Captain there wormed the most subtle microbe of all. Just what to do with it, or how to meet it, he did not know. But it continued to bob up at every meal time with a clamorous demand for attention.

One Monday evening the two men sat in the minister's study, the clergyman wrapped in silence, and the Captain in a cloud of tobacco smoke. The seaman was the first to break through his cloud.

"Mack, I'm awful sorry to disturb your meditations, but if they ain't a heap sight more entertaining than mine, I cal'late you won't mind to give 'em up for a spell."

"It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice, Cap'n," acknowledged Mr. McGowan, laughing. "What is troubling you?"

"Well, it's this,"--the Captain blew a cloud of smoke,--"this here's slow navigating on land without a woman's hand on the wheel. We need some one to set things to rights round here once in a while."

Mr. McGowan had been lounging lazily before the open fire, but now rose and stretched himself.

"The idea is all right, but how can we put it into effect?"

"I ain't just exactly sure."

"You must have something to propose, else you wouldn't have mentioned it."

"There ain't going to be no proposing, leastwise not by me."

The minister smiled. "Afraid of the fair s.e.x, Cap'n?"

"No. Just wise to 'em."

"Why don't you take the suggestion I made some time ago?"

"Meaning, which?"

"Have some one come in once a week to clean up."

"It needs something more than a cleaner round here. What we want is a cook. I cal'late we'd best ship a general housekeeper."

"A housekeeper!" exclaimed Mr. McGowan, suddenly breaking off a wide yawn.

The skipper blew a cloud of smoke and watched it thin out into the air above his head.

"And you have just declared that you didn't intend to propose. I'm afraid----"

"I ain't interested in your fears, young man. I'm too old a sea-dog for any of them new-fangled tricks. But being as you're set on staying here I've decided that we'll take a woman aboard to look after the mess and swab decks."

The minister became serious. "Is that practical in our present position?"

"Practical in our present position? If it ain't, then I'd like to know when in the name of all my ancestors such a thing is practical.

Mack----"

"I mean from the financial point of view. The boxing match seems to have hit the pocketbooks of the church members harder than the man from the city hit me. At least, something has given them almost total paralysis."

"Who's asking you to consarn yourself with a woman's keep? I ain't, be I?"

"I hope you don't think that I'd permit you to bring a housekeeper in here for me unless you give me the privilege of sharing in the expense."