“See, mother, how this labor agitation works.  Labor organizations multiply and become aggressive, and so capital organizes in self-defense.  One day our professor told the class that he much preferred citizenship in a government controlled by intelligent capital, to the insecurity and uncertainty of ignorant labor in power.  The professor inclined to think that the British form of government rested on a more lasting basis than that of republics.

“Usually the more of values a person possesses, the more anxious he is for stable government.  Labor has little capital, and so often becomes venturesome, and is willing to stake all on the throw of a die.  But labor in the presence of open hungry mouths can ill afford to take such chances.  Labor with its little or no surplus should act reasonably, and on the side of conservatism, or wives and little ones suffer.”

Mrs. Harris listened to her son’s comments on capital and labor, but the independence of her race asserted itself and she said with emphasis, “Alfonso, I hope Mr. Harris will insist on his rights at Harrisville.”

“Very likely he will, mother, as he is that kind of a man, and the New England independence that is born in him is sure to assert itself.”

For a few moments neither mother nor son spoke.  Suddenly both were awakened from their reveries by the call for dinner.  The waters were still smooth, and the ocean breezes had sharpened appetites, so the grand staircase was crowded with a happy throng, most of whom were eager for their first dinner aboard ship.  The Harrises were delighted to find Captain Morgan already at the table.

Long ago Captain Morgan had learned that wealth is power.  His own ship had cost a million or more, and England’s millions enabled his government to control the globe.  Not only was he keenly alive to the fact that capital and brains guided most human events, but naturally he possessed the instincts of a gentleman, and besides he was a true Briton.  His ancestors for generations had followed the sea for a livelihood and fame.  Some had served conspicuously in the navy, and others like himself had spent long lives in the commercial marine.

In Lucille’s eyes Captain Morgan was an ideal hero of the sea.  He was over six feet in height, and robust of form, weighing not less than 250 pounds.  His face was round and bronzed by the exposure of over three hundred ocean passages.  His closely cropped beard and hair were iron gray, and his mild blue eyes and shapely hands told of inbred qualities.  That he was possessed of rare traits of character, it was easy to discover.  Loyalty to the great trusts confided to him, was noticeable in his every movement.  “Safety of ship, passengers, and cargo,” were words often repeated, whether the skies above him were blue or black.

Captain Morgan addressing Mrs. Harris said, “We shall miss very much your husband’s presence aboard ship.  Nowadays managers of great enterprises ashore, involving the use of large amounts of capital, encounter quite as many stormy seas as we of the Atlantic.”