The collection was boxed
ready for shipment and Paul had a pleasant time on the island, while
waiting for a northern bound vessel.
One day while sitting at the mole, fishing, he saw a staunch little
schooner with dilapidated sails bear into the harbor. When her anchor
was let go, a boat was lowered into which two sailors and a man
evidently the captain, entered. Paul, folding his fishing line,
sauntered down to find out who the new arrivals were. A custom house
officer standing by, hailed the stranger as he came ashore with, "Why,
Captain Balbo. I am delighted to see you."
"Shure it does me eyes good to see yureself," said the new arrival, in a
rich Irish brogue. "Me papers air all right, so we'll have no trouble.
O'ive just called in to get a bit av fresh wather, an' if the Lord's
willin' somethin' a little stronger."
"You're always welcome," responded the officer, "even if you do neglect
to get your clearances. You know there is no love lost between you and
the custom house."
The schooner captain way a stout, thickset man with a face bronzed to
the color of mahogany and a head of hair as red as a Pittsburgh furnace
at midnight. His blue eyes sparkled with good nature and merriment, and
a continual smile hovered over his massive mouth.
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