Captain Kenny's face was as red as a beet. Usually it was far from being handsome, now it was positively hideous. His breath was heavily laden with the odor of rum, showing that he had been imbibing more than usual.
I was a boy of sixteen, tall and strong for my age. I was not a poor, down-trodden lad, knocking about from pillar to post, trying to earn my living. My father, Samuel Raymond, was a rich merchant of San Francisco, owning interests in several lines of trade, with offices at San Francisco, Hong Kong, Manila in the Philippine Islands, and several other points.
Just six months before I had graduated at a business college in California. As I was to follow my father into trade, it was not thought worth while to give me a term at the University, or any similar institute of learning. Instead, tny father called me into his library and said to me:
"Oliver, I believe you understand that you are to go into business with me."
"I do, sir," had been my reply. "I wish for nothing better."
"Usually I do not believe in letting boys remain idle after their school days are over, but in this case I think an exception should be made. You have worked hard, and come out at the top
