"Dick," says Mr. Younger, addressing Captain Bennison, "ye'll have a gude brig; and mon! ye s'uld have a gude crew. There'll be none of the last in Whitehaven, for what ones the agents showed me were the mere riff-raff of the sea. I'll even go to Arbigland, and pick ye a crew among the fisher people."
"Arbigland!" repeats Captain Bennison, with a glow of approval. "The Arbigland men are the best sailor-folk that ever saw the Solway. Give me an Arbigland crew, James, and I'll find ye the Rappahannock with the Friendship, within the month after she tears her anchor out o' Whitehaven mud."
And so Mr. Younger goes over to Arbigland.
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CHAPTER II IN THE BLACK TRADE The sun is struggling through the dust-coated, cobwebbed windows, and lighting dimly yet sufficiently the dingy office of Shipowner Younger of Whitehaven. That substantial man is sitting at his desk, eyes fixed upon the bristle of upstanding masts which sprout, thick as forest pines on a hillside, from the harbor basin below. The face of Shipowner Younger has been given the seasoning of several years, since he went to Ar- bigland that squall-torn afternoon, to pick up a crew for Dick Bennison. Also, Shipowner Younger shines with a new expression of high yet retiring complacency. The expression is one awful and fascinating to the clerk, who sits at the far end of the room. Shipowner Younger has been elected to Parliament, and his awful complacency is that elevation's visible sign. Theknowledge of his master's election offers the basis of much of the clerk's awe, and that stipendary almost charms himself into the delusion that he sees a halo about the bald pate of Shipowner Younger. The latter brings the spellbound clerk from his trance of fascination, by wheeling upon him. " Did ye send doon, mon," he cries, " to my wharf, with word for young Jack Paul to come? " The clerk says that he did. " Then ye can go seek your denner." The clerk, acting on this permission, scrambles to his fascinated feet. As he retires through the one door, young Jack Paul enters. The brown- faced boy of the Arbigland yawl has grown to be a brisk young sailor, taut and natty. He shakes the hand of Shipowner Younger, who gives him two fingers in that manner of condescending reserve, which he conceives to be due his dignity as a member of the House of Commons. Having done so muchfor his dignity, Shipowner Younger relaxes. " Have a chair, lad!" he says. " ...