“I heard ’em talking,” Cookie said simply. “The night of the fire, you put me in the mate’s cabin, remember? Well, it was after they called you in that I overheard them talking about Mr. Kennedy selling out to Chadwick.” Cookie struck his fist into his palm savagely. “Chadwick!” he said. “Me sail on another Chadwicker? I’d sooner die on land! No, sir, Sandy, when I heard that, I knew I had to help you. I told myself I’d swim all the way to Buffalo with you on my back, if it meant blocking that deal.”
“No matter,” the little man said grimly. “I’d’ve done it. I’d do anything, before I’d sail a Chadwicker again.”
Of course, that unhappy notion was no longer a possibility—not after the scene which took place in Mr. Kennedy’s office several hours after Sandy and Cookie and Sam had gone below to break the news to Jerry James.
Mr. Paul Chadwick had arrived and been ushered into Mr. Kennedy’s conference room, where the lawyers of both firms had assembled to handle the details of the sale. Mr. Chadwick came striding in. He was a fat, pompous man with pouches beneath his pale eyes. He had a sharp way of speaking and he ordered his employees around as if he thought they belonged to him, body and soul.
“Well, Kennedy,” he shot out as he took a seat at the table, “I presume everything is in readiness?”
“Yes, Paul,” Mr. Kennedy said softly. “Everything is set.”
“Good. All right, Cogswell,” he snapped, turning to one of his lawyers. “Let’s have the papers. Quick, man! The papers. Don’t dawdle like a kindergarten child; give me the papers!”
Red-faced, the lawyer pulled a legal-looking document from his brief case and passed it to Mr. Chadwick. In the embarrassed silence that followed, the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of Mr. Chadwick’s pen as he hurriedly signed his name.
“Here, John,” he said grandly, passing the document across the table. “Now, you sign right there. And, then, the Kennedy boats will belong to me.”
“I think not, Paul,” Mr. Kennedy said easily as he accepted the papers and tore them swiftly in two. “I think they’ll still belong to me.”
He handed the torn contract back to his astounded shipping rival. Mr. Chadwick stared at the pieces in disbelief.
“But this is preposterous!” he shouted. “You can’t do this to me! You agreed to sell, Kennedy. Why, why,” he spluttered, his cheeks puffing out like a frog’s, “why, I’ll sue!”