Hudner, manager of the Black Butte Lumber Company, arched his eyebrows
as Matt Peasley entered his office half an hour after he had left it and
presented for Hudner's signature a formal charter party, in duplicate,
wherein the Blue Star Navigation Company chartered from J. B. Hudner,
managing owner of record, the American Steamer Unicorn for sixty days
from date, at the rate of three hundred and twenty-five dollars a day,
said managing owner to pay all expenses of operating said Unicorn.
“Huh!” Mr. Hudner snorted. “I'd like to know what the devil Cappy Ricks
wants of my Unicorn when he's got her infernal sister squatting in the
mud of Oakland Creek? There's something rotten in Denmark, Mr. Peasley.
There always is when that old scoundrel Ricks does incomprehensible
things.”
“Very likely he's up to some skullduggery, sir,” Matt opined.
“I wish you had informed me of the identity of your client, Mr.
Peasley,” Hudner complained. “I don't like to sign this charter.”
“I cannot help that now, sir,” Matt retorted. “You have agreed in
writing to charter the vessel to any responsible person I might bring
to you, and I guess the Blue Star Navigation Company comes under that
head.”
Mr. Hudner sighed and gritted his teeth. Instinct told him there was
deviltry afoot, but in an evil moment he had sewed himself up and he had
no alternative now save to complete the contract or stand suit. So he
signed the charter party and retained the original, while Matt Peasley,
with the duplicate in his pocket, hastened back to Cappy Ricks' office.
“Matt,” said Cappy approvingly, “you're a born business man, and it will
be strange indeed if you don't pick up a nice little piece of money
on this Unicorn deal.” He glanced at his watch and then turned to his
daughter.
“Florry, my dear,” he said, “would you like to go up-town with your
daddy and Captain Peasley for luncheon?”
Matt Peasley grinned like a Jack-o'-lantern, all lit up for Hallowe'en.
“Fine!” he said enthusiastically.
Florence withered him with one impersonal glance, saw that she had
destroyed him utterly, relented, and graciously acquiesced. When they
left the office Matt Peasley was stepping high, like a ten-time winner,
for he had suddenly made the discovery that life ashore was a wonderful,
wonderful thing. There was such a lilt in his young heart that, for the
life of him, he could not forbear doing a little double shuffle as he
waited at the elevator with Cappy and his daughter. He sang:
“The first mate's boat was the first away;
But the whale gave a flip of his tail,
And down to the bottom went five brave boys,
Never again to sail--
Brave boys,
Never again to sail!
When the captain heard of the loss of his whale,
Right loud-lee then he swore.
When he heard of the loss of his five brave boys,
'Oh,' he said, 'we can ship some more brave boys--
'Oh,' he said, 'we can ship some more.'”
Cappy winked slyly at his daughter, but she did not see the wink. She
had eyes for nobody but Matt Peasley, for he was a brand-new note in her
life. They were half through luncheon before Florry discovered the exact
nature of this fascinating new note. Matt Peasley was real. There was
not an artificial thought or action in his scheme of things; he bubbled
with homely Yankee wit; he was intensely democratic and ramping with
youth and health and strength and the joy of living; he could sing funny
little songs and tell funny little stories about funny little adventures
that had befallen him. She liked him.
After luncheon Cappy declared that Matt should return to the office with
him, while Florry instructed the waiter to ring for a taxicab for
her. Later, when Matt gallantly handed her into the taxi, he asked
innocently:
“Where are you going, Miss Florry?”
“Home,” she said.
He looked at her so wistfully that she could not mistake the hidden
meaning in his words when he asked, with a deprecatory grin:
“Where do you live?”
“With my father,” she said, and closed the door.
When Cappy and Matt returned to the Blue Star offices they were informed
that Mr. Allan Hayes was patiently awaiting the arrival of the managing
owner of the Lion. Matt concluded, therefore, to remain secluded while
Cappy went into his own office and met Mr. Hayes.
Two hours later Cappy summoned Skinner and Matt to his sanctum.
“Skinner,” he said briskly, “have you bought any shingles?”
“I have not,” said Mr. Skinner.
“Have you sent out those telegrams to the dealers?”
“Not yet, Mr. Ricks. I was going to have them filed just before we close
the office.”
“Well,” said Cappy smilingly, “don't accept any quotations until
to-morrow and don't send out those telegrams until further advice from
me. I locked horns with that man Hayes, and I think I gored him, Matt.
It appeared he called on me first; and when I quoted him four hundred
dollars a day on the Lion, he favored me with a sweet smile and said he
could get the Unicorn for three-fifty. So, of course, I had to explain
to him that he couldn't, because I wouldn't charter her at any such
ridiculous figure! That took the ginger out of him and we got down to
business, with the result that I've given him a forty-eight-hour option
on both boats at four hundred dollars a day each, with a commission of
two thousand dollars cash in full to him.”
“Why, he told me he would get two and a half per cent. commission!” Matt
declared. “He figured he'd have an income of twenty dollars a day for
the next four years.”
“I daresay he did, Matt,” Cappy replied dryly; “but then, in the very
best business circles you never pay a broker two and a half commission
when you know who his principals are! If he insists, you eliminate him
entirely and do business direct. Of course, my boy, if he had put the
proposition up to me, and I had agreed to pay him the regular commission
while ignorant of the identity of his principals, and he had then
reposed confidence in my business honor and told me whom he represented,
he would have been perfectly safe. Remember, Matt, that the business man
without a code of business honor never stays in business very long. From
the office to the penitentiary or the cemetery is a quick jump for birds
of that feather.”
“Then, why did you offer him two thousand dollars?”'
“Because it never pays to be a hog, my son, and besides I want to close
this deal and close it quickly. Naturally Hayes isn't fool enough to
toss away two thousand dollars, and something seems to tell me he'll
urge his principals to take the boats at our figure, Matthew!” And the
graceless old villain chuckled and dug his youngest skipper in the short
ribs. “Let this be a lesson to you, my boy,” he warned him. “Remember
the old Persian proverb: 'A shut mouth catches no flies.'”
Cappy's prediction proved to be correct, for the following morning Hayes
telephoned that the Mannheim people desired the steamers at Cappy's
figures, the charter parties, signed by Cappy, were forwarded to
Seattle, and in due course were returned signed by the charterers;
whereupon Cappy exercised his option, procured by Matt from Hudner, to
charter the Unicorn for four years additional.
“What did Hudner have to say for himself?” Cappy queried when Matt
returned from the latter's office, after finally completing the deal.
“Not a word! He looked volumes, though, sir.”
“Serves him right. That man, sir, is a thorn in the side of the market.
However, since we're making a daily profit on him we can afford to speak
kindly of the unfortunate fellow, Matt; so sit down and we'll figure out
where we stand on the Unicorn. She costs us three-twenty-five and we've
chartered her at four hundred--a daily profit of seventy-five dollars,
of which you receive thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents. That makes
eleven hundred and twenty-five dollars monthly income for you, my boy;
and, believe me, it isn't to be sneezed at. Meantime you and I, as
partners, owe me a thousand dollars commission to that Seattle broker;
so I'll have Skinner make a journal entry and charge your account five
hundred dollars. There's no need to pay it now, Matt. Wait until the
vessel earns it.”
“The vessel might sink on her first voyage and that would cancel the
charter,” Matt replied; “so I guess I'll be a sport and hold up my end.
You paid out the hard cash and took a chance, and so will I.” And, with
the words, Matt drew from his pocket the Black Butte Lumber Company's
check for a thousand dollars, indorsed it and passed it over to Cappy
Ricks. “We're equal partners, sir,” he said, “and I pried that thousand
out of Hudner on the side as a commission for chartering the Unicorn
to you. Half of it is yours and I owe you the other half; so there you
are.”
Cappy Ricks threw up his hands in token of complete surrender.
“Scoundrel!” he cried. “Damned young scoundrel! You Yankee thief,
haven't you any conscience?” And he laid his old head on his desk and
laughed his shrill, senile laugh, while tears of joy rolled down his
rosy old cheeks. “Oh-h-h-h, my!” he cackled. “But wait until I get
Hudner among my young friends at the Round Table up at the Commercial
Club to-morrow! To think of a young pup like you coming in and chasing
an old dog like Hudner round the lot and taking his bone away from him!”
He turned to the general manager:
“Oh, Skinner! Skinner, my dear boy, this will be the death of me yet!
Remember that old maid stenographer Hudner stole away from us, Skinner?
Remember? Oh, but isn't he paying for her through the nose? Isn't he,
Skinner? Oh, dear! Oh, dear, what a lot of fun there is in just living
and raising hell with your neighbor--particularly, Skinner, when he
happens to be a competitor.”
When Cappy could control his mirth he handed the money back to Matt.
“Oh, Matt, my dear young bandit,” he informed that amazed young man,
“I'm human. I can't take this money. It's been worth a thousand dollars
to have had this laugh and to know I've got a lad like you growing up
in my employ. You're worth a bonus, Matt; I'll stand all the commission.
Soak Hudner's thousand away in the bank, Matt; or, better still--Here!
Here; let's figure, Matt: You had sixteen hundred saved up and you've
loaned a thousand on that mortgage. Now you've made a thousand more.
Better buy a good thousand-dollar municipal bond, Matt. That's better
than savings-bank interest, and you can always realize on the bond. I'll
buy the bond for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Matt replied.