old San Francisco friend, the stock-gambler Speedy, a little wizened
person of the name of Sharpe, and a big, flourishing, dissipated-looking
man called Fowler. The two last (I learned afterward) were frequent
partners; Sharpe supplied the capital, and Fowler, who was quite a
character in the islands and occupied a considerable station, brought
activity, daring, and a private influence, highly necessary in the case.
Both seemed to approach the business with a keen sense of romance; and I
believe this was the chief attraction, at least with Fowler--for whom
I early conceived a sentiment of liking. But in that first moment I
had something else to think of than to judge my new acquaintances;
and before Speedy had fished out the letters, the full extent of our
misfortune was revealed.

"We've rather bad news for you, Mr. Dodd," said Fowler. "Your firm's
gone up."

"Already!" I exclaimed.

"Well, it was thought rather a wonder Pinkerton held on as long as he
did," was the reply. "The wreck deal was too big for your credit; you
were doing a big business, no doubt, but you were doing it on precious
little capital; and when the strain came, you were bound to go.
Pinkerton's through all right: seven cents dividend; some remarks
made, but nothing to hurt; the press let you down easy--I guess Jim had
relations there. The only trouble is, that all this Flying Scud affair
got in the papers with the rest; everybody's wide awake in Honolulu, and
the sooner we get the stuff in and the dollars out, the better for all
concerned."

"Gentlemen," said I, "you must excuse me. My friend, the captain here,