Three minutes later he was closeted with Hudner, of the Black Butte
Lumber Company.
“My name is Peasley, Mr. Hudner,” he began truthfully. “I arrived from
Seattle this morning. I am looking for a steam freighter for some very
responsible people and your Unicorn appears to be about the vessel
they're looking for. They would want her to run coastwise, and prefer
to charter at a flat rate a day, owners to pay all expenses of operating
the ship. Would you be willing to charter for sixty days, with an option
on the vessel for an extension of the charter on the same terms for four
years, provided she proves satisfactory for my clients' purposes?”
Mr. Hudner started slightly. Four years! It seemed almost too good to be
true. He was certain of this the next instant when he thought of Cappy
Ricks' Lion, also laid up and as hungry for business as the Unicorn.
He wondered whether this young broker from Seattle had called on Cappy
Ricks as yet; and, wondering, he decided to name a price low enough
to prove interesting and, by closing promptly, eliminate his hated
competitor from all consideration.
“I should be very glad to consider your proposition, Mr. Peasley,” he
said. “You say your clients are entirely responsible?”
“They will post a bond if you're not satisfied on that point, Mr.
Hudner. What will you charter the Unicorn for, a day?”
Mr. Hudner pretended to do a deal of figuring. At the end of five
minutes he said: “Three hundred and fifty dollars a day, net to the
vessel.”
Matt nodded, rose and reached for his hat.
“I guess you don't want to charter your vessel, sir,” he said. “I'm
not working for my health, either; so I guess I'll look for some other
vessel. I hear the Lion is on the market.” And without further ado he
walked out.
Mr. Hudner let him go; then ran after him and cornered him in the hall.
“I'll let you have her at three hundred and thirty,” he said
desperately; “and that's bedrock. And if your clients elect to take her
for four years, I'll pay you a thousand dollars commission on the deal.
The vessel simply cannot afford to pay more.”
After his conversation with Cappy Ricks, Matt realized that Hudner had,
indeed, named a very low price on the Unicorn. But Matt was a Yankee. He
knew he had Hudner where the hair was short; so he said:
“I'll give you three twenty-five and accept a thousand dollars
commission in case my clients take her for four years. That's my final
offer, Mr. Hudner. Take it or leave it.”
“I'll take it,” said poor Hudner. “It's better than letting the vessel
fall to pieces in Rotten Row. How soon will you hear definitely from
your principals?”
“I'll hear to-day; but meantime you might give me a three-day option
on the vessel, in case of unavoidable delays--though I'll do my best to
close the matter up at once.”
Hudner considered. The Unicorn had paid his company but two dividends
since her purchase from Cappy Ricks, while it was common talk on
'Change that the Lion had paid for herself prior to the 1907 panic. In
consideration of the fact, therefore, that the Lion did not owe Cappy
Ricks a cent, Hudner shrewdly judged that Cappy would be less eager than
he for business, and that hence it would be safe to give a three-day
option. He led Matt back to his office, where he dictated and signed the
option. Matt gave him a dollar and the trap was set.
From Hudner's office Matt returned to that of Cappy Ricks. The heir to
the Ricks millions was still there, as Matt noted with a sudden, strange
thrill of satisfaction.
“I've waited until your return, Captain Peasley,” she said, “to see
whether you could dispose of dad's competitor as handily as you disposed
of your own that time in Cape Town.”
Matt blushed and Cappy chuckled.
“I've bet Florry five thousand dollars you'll dispose of Hudner and the
Unicorn, Matt,” he said.
“I'm glad of that, sir, because if you hope to win the bet you'll have
to help me. I've gone as far as I can, sir. I've got an option on the
Unicorn for three days on a sixty-day charter, running coastwise with
general cargo, with the privilege of renewing for four years at the same
rate. The rate, by the way, is three hundred and twenty-five dollars. I
want you to charter her from Hudner; and then--”
“Bless your soul, boy, I don't want her! Haven't I got a boat of my own
I'd almost be willing to charter at the same figure to Hudner?”
“You don't understand, sir. The Mannheim people, with copper mines in
Alaska, want two boats to freight ore--and their agent came down on the
train with me. Don't you see, sir, that you have to control both boats
to get a price? If you don't that agent will play you against Hudner and
Hudner against you, until he succeeds in tying up both boats at a low
price. He wouldn't tell you he wants two boats, but he was fool enough
to tell me--”
“God bless my mildewed soul!” said Cappy excitedly, and smashed his old
fist down on his desk. “For the man to do things, give me the lad who
keeps his ears open and his mouth shut! Of course we'll charter her;
and, what's more, we'll give her business ourselves for sixty days just
to keep her off the market!”
“Then you'd better hurry and close the deal, sir,” Matt warned him. “I
only arrived in town this morning; and I checked my baggage at the depot
and came up here immediately. The Seattle broker went up to his hotel.
He said he had to have a bath and a shave and some clean linen first
thing,” he added scornfully: “Me, I'd swim Channel Creek at low tide in
a dress suit if I had important business on the other side.”
“Matt,” said Cappy gratefully, “you're a boy after my own heart. Really,
I think you ought to get something out of this if we put it through.”
“Well, as I stated, I wouldn't take anything out of the Lion charter,
because it's my duty to save you when somebody has a gun at your head;
but on the Unicorn charter I thought--well, if you can recharter at
a profit I thought you might agree to split the profit with me. I'm a
skipper, you know, and this sort of thing is out of my regular line; and
besides, I'm not on your pay roll at present. I've promoted the deal, so
to speak. I supply the ship and the brains and the valuable information,
and you supply business for the ship.”
“Yes; and, in spite of the hard times, I'll supply it at a profit if I
have to,” Cappy declared happily. “Of course I'll split the profit with
you, Matt. As you say, this Unicorn deal is outside your regular line.
It's a private deal; and as the promoter of it you're entitled to your
legitimate profit.” He rang for Mr. Skinner.
“Skinner, my boy,” he said when that functionary entered, “Matt and I
are going to unload that white elephant of a Lion and get her off
our hands for four years at a fancy figure; but to do it we've got
to charter another white elephant--the Black Butte Lumber Company's
Unicorn. Here's an option Captain Peasley has just secured on her. Have
the charter parties made out immediately in conformity with this option
and bring them here for my signature.”
Mr. Skinner read the option and began to protest.
“Mr. Ricks, I tell you we cannot possibly use the Unicorn for sixty
days, if you are forced to keep her off the market that long. If this
thing develops into a waiting game--”
“I'll wear the other side out,” Cappy finished for him. “Listen to me,
Skinner! How's the shingle market in the Southwest?”
“The market is steady at three dollars and fifty cents, f.o.b. Missouri
River common points.”
Cappy scratched his ear and cogitated.
“The Unicorn will carry eighteen million shingles,” he murmured. “The
going water freight from Grays Harbor to San Francisco is how much?”
“Thirty-five cents a thousand,” Mr. Skinner replied promptly.
“Therefore, if we used one of our own vessels to freight eighteen
million shingles it would cost us--”
“Six thousand three hundred dollars,” prompted Mr. Skinner.
“Fortunately for us, however, we do not use one of our own vessels.
We use that fellow Hudner's and we get her for three hundred and
twenty-five dollars a day. She can sail from here to Grays Harbor, take
on her cargo, get back to San Francisco and discharge it in twelve days.
What's twelve times three hundred and twenty-five?”
“Thirty-nine hundred dollars,” flashed Skinner, to the tremendous
admiration of Matt Peasley, who now considered the manager an
intellectual marvel.
“Being a saving of how much?” Cappy droned on.
“Twenty-four hundred dollars,” answered the efficient human machine
without seeming to think for an instant.
“Being a saving of how many cents on a thousand shingles?”
Mr. Skinner closed one eye, cocked the other at the ceiling an instant
and said:
“Thirteen and one-third cents a thousand.”
“Very well, then, Skinner. Now listen to my instructions: Wire all the
best shingle mills on Grays Harbor for quotations on Extra Star A Stars
in one to five million lots, delivery fifteen, thirty and forty-five
days from date; and if the price is right buy 'em all. We have about
ten millions on hand at our own mill. To-night send out a flock of night
letters to all the wholesale jobbers and brokers in Kansas, Missouri,
Oklahoma, Texas, and all points taking a sixty-cent tariff, and quote
'em ten cents under the market subject to prior acceptance.”
He turned to Matt Peasley.
“That clause--'subject to prior acceptance'--saves our faces in case we
find ourselves unable to deliver the goods,” he explained, and turned
again to Skinner.
“We can freight the shingles from Grays Harbor to San Francisco in
the Unicorn; re-ship on cars from Long Wharf and beat the direct car
shipments from the mills ten cents, and still make our regular profit.
Besides, the cut in price will bring us in a raft of orders we could not
get otherwise. We can thus keep the Unicorn busy for sixty days without
losing a cent on her, and if we haven't come to terms with the Mannheim
people at the end of that time we'll find something else for her.
And, of course, if we succeed meantime in chartering the Lion at a
satisfactory price, we can throw the Unicorn back on Hudner at the end
of the sixty days.” And Cappy snickered malevolently as he pictured his
enemy's discomfiture under these circumstances.
Mr. Skinner nodded his comprehension and hastened away to prepare the
charter parties.