Matt, you might
tell Skinner what your plans are for the Blue Star."
"Well," said Matt, "I'm going to leave the president emeritus on the
job a few months longer."
"Not by a jugful! I quit tomorrow. Hereafter I'm just scenery. I'm
old and I must give way to youth. I've had my day; I'm out of the
running now," Cappy answered sadly.
"We're going to leave the president emeritus on the job," Matt
repeated, "while I go to Europe and pick up a couple of big British
tramps, under the provisions of the recent Emergency Shipping Act, and
stick 'em under the American flag. Regardless of what the other
fellows may do or think, the fact is we're American citizens; and
we're going to do our duty and help establish an American mercantile
marine. Skinner, we'll make the Blue Star flag known on the Seven
Seas."
Cappy Ricks sprang into the air and got one thin old arm round Matt
Peasley's neck; with the other he groped for Skinner, for there were
tears in his fine old eyes.
"What a pair of lads to have round me!" he said huskily.
"Matt--Skinner, my boy--by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!--we'll do it;
not because we need the money or want it, or give a particular damn to
hoard up a heap of it, but because it's the right thing to do. It's
patriotic--it's American--our activities shall enrich the world--and
oh, it's such a bully game to play!"
Mr.
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