The following morning Matt called upon MacCandless, the general manager
of the Oriental Steamship Company. Mr. MacCandless was a cold individual
of Scotch ancestry, with a scent for a dollar a trifle keener than most;
and Matt Peasley, young and inexperienced in business fencing, was never
more aware of his deficiencies than when he faced MacCandless across
the latter's desk. Consequently, he resolved to waste no words in vain
parley. MacCandless was still looking curiously at Matt's card when the
latter said:
“I called with reference to that big freighter of the Oriental Steamship
Company--the Narcissus. Is she for sale?”
MacCandless smiled with his lips, but his eyes wore the eternal Show-me!
look. He nodded.
“Foolish of me to ask, I know,” Matt continued complacently, “since it
is a matter of common gossip that you would have been delighted to have
sold her any time these past eight years.”
Since MacCandless did not deny this Matt assumed that it was true and
returned to the attack with renewed vigor.
“What do you want for her?”
“Are you acting as a broker in this matter or do you represent
principals who have asked you to interview me? In other words, before
I talk business with you I want to know that you mean business. I shall
waste no time discussing a possible trade unless you assure me that you
have a customer in sight. I am weary of brokers. I've had forty of them
after that vessel from time to time, but no business ever resulted.”
“Which is not at all surprising, considering the circumstances,” Matt
retorted. “If you cannot use her yourself you mustn't expect other
people to be over-enthusiastic about owning her. However, I think I
can find business for her, and I've come to buy her myself. You seem to
think a lot of your time, so I'll conserve it for you. I'm the principal
in this deal, and if you really want to get rid of her we'll do business
in two minutes.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars,” MacCandless answered promptly.
“Listen,” said Matt Peasley. “I have fifty thousand dollars of my own
in bank this minute, but I will have to raise two hundred and fifty
thousand more before I can afford to buy your vessel, even if we agree
on that price, which does not seem probable. I'll give you two hundred
and fifty thousand dollars for the steamer Narcissus; but when you turn
her over to me I want a ship, not a piece of floating junk. You'll
have to ship a new crank shaft, rewind the main motor, renew the Manila
lines, overhaul the standing rigging, retube the condensers and dock her
before handing her over to me. She's as foul as any hulk in Rotten Row.”
“Why, that will cost in the neighborhood of forty thousand
dollars--nearer fifty!” MacCandless declared.
“I know. But for three hundred thousand dollars I can go to Sweden,
build a smaller vessel than the Narcissus, have her right up to date,
with two-thousand-horsepower oil-burning motors in her; and the saving
in space due to motor installation, with oil tanks instead of coal
bunkers, will enable me to carry fully as much cargo as the Narcissus.
Also, I'll burn six tons of crude oil a day to your forty tons of coal a
day in the Narcissus. I'll employ eight men less in my crew, and have a
cleaner, faster and better ship. The motor ship is the freighter of the
future, and you know it. Your Narcissus is out of date, and I'm only
offering you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars because I can use
her right away.”
“Young man,” said MacCandless, “you talk like a person that means
business, but you overlook the fact that this company is neither
bankrupt nor silly. The directors will, I feel assured, agree to do all
the work you specify, but the price must be three hundred thousand. That
will leave us two hundred and fifty thousand dollars net.”
“I'll split the difference with you.”
MacCandless shook his head.
“Well, that ends our argument,” Matt answered pleasantly, and took up
his hat. “You can keep your big white elephant another eight years, Mr.
MacCandless. Perhaps some principal will come along then and make you
another offer; and in the interim you can charge off about one hundred
and fifty thousand dollars interest on the money tied up in the
Narcissus. Fine business--I don't think!” He nodded farewell and started
for the door.
“But you say you have but fifty thousand dollars,” MacCandless
protested.
“I said I'd have to get two hundred and fifty thousand dollars more.
Well, I'll do it.”
“Quite a sum to raise these days,” MacCandless remarked doubtfully.
“Well, if you'll give me a sixty-day option on the Narcissus at two
hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars and agree to do the repairs
on her, including dry-docking, cleaning and painting her up to the water
line, I'll take a ten-thousand-dollar chance, Mr. MacCandless, that I
can raise the money.”
“Do you mean you'll give the Oriental Steamship Company ten thousand
dollars for a sixty-day option?”
“I do; and I'll pay for the vessel as I raise the remainder of the
money. Ten thousand dollars down for the option, to apply on the
purchase price, of course, if the deal goes through, and to be forfeited
to you if I fail to make the next payment on time.”
“What will the next payment be?” the cautious MacCandless demanded.
“Twenty thousand dollars a month, with interest at six per cent. in
deferred payments. You might as well be earning six per cent. on her as
have her rusting holes in her bottom down there in Mission Bay. As she
lies, you're losing at least six per cent. interest on her.”
“There's reason in that,” MacCandless answered thoughtfully. “You to
insure the vessel as our interest may appear, bill of sale in escrow;
and if you default for more than thirty days on any payment before we
have received fifty per cent. of the purchase price you lose out and we
get our ship back.”
“Sharp business, but I'll take it, Mr. MacCandless. After I've paid half
the money I can mortgage her for the remainder and get out from under
your clutches. Put the buck up to your directors, get their approval to
the option and contract of sale, notify me, and I'll be right up with
a certified check for ten thousand dollars.” And, without giving
MacCandless time to answer, Matt took his departure.
“If I talked ten minutes with that man,” he soliloquized, “he'd have
the number of my mess. He'd realize what a piker I was and terminate the
interview. But--I--think he'll meet my terms, because he sees I'm
pretty young and inexperienced, and he figures he'll make ten or twenty
thousand dollars out of me before I discover I'm a rotten promoter. And,
at that, his is better than an even-money bet!”
At five o'clock that same day MacCandless telephoned.
“I have called a special meeting of our directors, Captain Peasley,” he
announced, “and put your proposition up to them. They have agreed to it,
and if you will be at my office at ten o'clock to-morrow I think we can
do business.”
“I think so,” Matt answered. “I'll be there.”
He hung up, reached for a telegraph blank and wrote the following
message:
San Francisco, July 28, 1914.
Terence Reardon,
Chief Engineer, S. S. Arab,
Port Costa, California.
Have bought Narcissus. Offer you one hundred seventy-five a
month quit Arab now and supervise installation new crank shaft,
retubing condensers, and so on; permanent job as chief. Do you
accept? Answer immediately.
PACIFIC SHIPPING COMPANY,
Matthew Peasley, President.
Having dispatched this message, Matt Peasley closed down his desk,
strolled round to the Blue Star Navigation Company's offices, and
picked up his newly acquired father-in-law. On their way home in Cappy's
carriage the old gentleman, apropos of the afternoon press dispatches
from Europe, remarked that the situation abroad was anything but
encouraging.
“Do you think we'll have a war in Europe?” Matt queried.
“Germany seems determined to back up Austria in her demands on Serbia,
and I don't think Serbia will eat quite all of the dish of dirt Francis
Joseph has set before her,” Cappy answered seriously. “Austria seems
determined to make an issue of the assassination of the Archduke
Ferdinand and his wife. If she does, Matt, there'll be the most awful
war in history. All Europe will be fighting.”
Matt was silent and thoughtful all the way home, but just before they
left the carriage he turned to Cappy.
“If there's war,” he remarked, “England will, doubtless, control the
seas because of her superior navy. German commerce will absolutely
cease.”
“The submarine will have to be reckoned with, also,” Cappy suggested.
“England's commerce will doubtless be knocked into a cocked hat.”
“There'll be a shortage of bottoms, and vessels will be in brisk
demand,” Matt predicted. “There'll be a sharp rise in freight rates on
all commodities the instant war breaks out, and the American mercantile
marine ought to reap a harvest.”
“My dear boy,” said Cappy acidly, “why speak of the American mercantile
marine? There ain't no such animal.”
“There will be--if the war in Europe ever starts,” Matt retorted; “and,
what's more, I'm going to bet there will be war within thirty days.”
He did not consider it advisable to mention to Cappy that he was going
to bet ten thousand dollars!