"That'd be more business than I've a mind for, Rogers," answered Captain
Cai; "at any rate, while you live. I've a-left my affairs to you these
twelve year, an' mean to continue, please God--you knowin' my ways."

The chandler blinked. "That's very han'some o' ye, Cap'n," he said
after a long pause. "But--"

"There's no 'but' about it," interrupted Captain Cai shortly, looking
away and resting his gaze on the _Hannah Hoo_ out in the harbour, where
she lay on the edge of the deep-water channel among a small crowd of
wind-bounders. Her crew had already made some progress in unbending
sails, and her stripped spars shone as gold against the westering
sunlight. "No 'but' about it, Rogers--unless o' course you're
unwillin'."

"What's willin' or unwillin' to a man broken in health as I be?
That's the p'int, Cap'n--here, set opposite to 'ee, staring 'ee in the
face--a hulk, shall we say?--rudder gone, ridin' to a thread o' life--"
"You'll ride to it a many years yet, please God again."

"I take 'e to witness this is not my askin'."

Captain Cai stared. "'Tis my askin', Rogers. I put it as a favour."

"What about your friend? I was thinkin' as maybe _he'd_ take over the
job."

"'Bias?" Captain Cai shook his head. "He've no gift in money matters;
let be that I don't believe in mixin' friendship in business."