that was slippery and ambitious;
there was Sadler that had a worm in his soul; there was Clyde that
kept one conscience for argument, and another for the trade; there
was Tommy Buckingham who was getting older and troubled about the
intentions of things. And yet again there was folks like Kreps and
Stevey Todd, say, mild and warm people, and a bit simple, each in his
way, and yet they always kept themselves entertained somehow. "All
things are one," are they? I couldn't see it either, no more than
Sadler. For this is the Kiyi Proposition. You says: "Here's a bad
job. Who did it?" I says: "I don't know." You says: "Well, who pays
for it?" I says: "Ain't any doubt about that. It's Kiyi."
It was quite a parcel of years I sailed the Pacific, ten years, or
thereabout, altogether. The time I saw Sadler behind the Green
Dragons was my last cruise there. I says to myself:
"Tommy, you ain't a 'bonny sailor boy' any more. Why don't you sail
your own ship? Haven't you got a bank in the West Indies? Why don't
you liquidate on Clyde? Why don't you quit your foolishness?" and
when Stevey Todd and I got back to San Francisco, I left Shan
Brothers and the _Good Sister_ for good, and we came east by
railroad to New Orleans.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168