_In Which Sir Archibald Armstrong Is Almost Floored By a
Business Proposition, But Presently Revives, and Seems to
be About to Rise to the Occasion_
Sir Archibald Armstrong was a colonial knight. His decoration--one of
Her late Majesty's birthday honours--had come to him for beneficent
political services to the colony in time of trouble and ruin. He was a
Newfoundlander born and bred (though educated in the English schools);
and he was fond of saying in a pleasantly boastful way and with a
little twinkle of amusement in his sympathetic blue eyes: "I'm a
fish-merchant, sir--a Newfoundland fish-merchant!" This was quite
true, of course; but it was only half the truth. Directly or
indirectly, Sir Archibald's business interests touched every port in
Newfoundland, every harbour of the Labrador, the markets of Spain and
Portugal, of the West Indies and the South American Republics.
Sir Archibald was alone in his cozy office. The day was raw and wet.
There was a blazing fire in the grate--an agreeable bit of warmth and
brightness to contrast with the rain beating on the window-panes.
A pale little clerk put his head in at the door. "Beg pardon, sir," he
jerked. "Master Archie, sir."
"Master Archie!" Sir Archibald exclaimed.
Archie entered.
"What's this?" said Sir Archibald, in amazement. "Back from Ruddy
Cove?"
"On business," Archie replied.
Sir Archibald laughed pleasantly.
"Don't make fun of me, father," said Archie. "I'm in dead earnest."
"How much is it, son?" This was an ancient joke between the two. Both
laughed.
"You'd be surprised if you knew," the boy returned. "But look here,
father! please don't take it in that way. I'm really in earnest."
"It's money, son," Sir Archibald insisted. "I know it is."
"Yes," said Archie, with a grave frown; "it _is_ money. It's a good
deal of money. It's so much money, dad, that you'll sit up when you
hear about it."
Sir Archibald looked sharply into his son's grave eyes. "Ahem!" he
coughed. "Money," he mused, "and a good deal of it. What's the
trouble, son?"
"No trouble, father," said Archie; "just a ripping good chance for fun
and profit."
Sir Archibald moved to the chair behind a broad flat-top desk by the
window. This was the queer little throne from which all business
problems were viewed. It was from the shabby old chair--with a broad
window behind--that all business judgments were delivered. Did an
outport merchant want credit in any large way, it was from the
opposite chair--with the light falling full in his face through the
broad window--that he put the case to Sir Archibald. Archie sat down
in that chair and leaned over the desk. Sir Archibald stretched his
legs, put his hands deep in his pockets, let his chin fall on his
breast and stared searchingly into his son's face. The rain was driven
noisily against the windows; the fire crackled and glowed. As between
the two at the desk there was a momentary silence.
"Well?" said Sir Archibald, shortly.
"I want to go trading," Archie replied.
Sir Archibald lifted his eyebrows--then pursed his lips. The matter
of credit was evidently to be proposed to him. It was to be put,
too, it seemed, in a business way. Very well: Sir Archibald would
deal with the question in a business way. He felt a little thrill
of pleasure--he was quite conscious of it. It was delightful to have
his only son in a business discussion, at the familiar old desk,
with the fire glowing, the wind rattling the windows and the rain
lashing the panes. Sir Archibald was a business man; and now he
realized for the first time that Archie was grown to a companionable
age. This, after all, he reflected, was what he had been working for:
To engage in business with his own son.
"Then you want credit?" said he.
"Look here, dad!" Archie burst out; "of course, I want credit. I'll
tell you all about it," he rattled anxiously. "We want--we means Billy
Topsail, Jimmie Grimm, Donald North and me--they're all Ruddy Cove
fellows, you know--we want to charter the _On Time_ at Ruddy Cove,
call her the _Spot Cash_, stock her cabin and hold--she's only a
twenty-tonner--and ship Bill o' Burnt Bay for skipper and trade the
ports of White Bay and the French Shore. All the boys----"
[Illustration: "--WE WANT TO CHARTER THE _ON TIME_ AND TRADE THE PORTS OF
THE FRENCH SHORE."]
"My traders," Sir Archibald interrupted, quietly, "are trading White
Bay and the French Shore."
"I know it, dad," Archie began eagerly, "but----"
"Will you compete with them?" Sir Archibald asked, his eyes wide open.
"The _Black Eagle_ sails north on a trading voyage in a fortnight.
She's loading now."
"That's all right," said Archie, blithely. "We're going to----"
"Encounter harsh competition," Sir Archibald put in, dryly. "How will
you go about it?"
Archie had been fidgeting in his chair--hardly able to command his
politeness.
"A cash trader!" he burst out.
"Ah!" Sir Archibald drawled, enlightened. "I see. I see-ee!"
"We'll be the only cash trader on the coast, dad," Archie continued;
"and we'll advertise--and carry a phonograph--and sell under the
credit prices--and----"
Sir Archibald whistled in chagrin.
"And we'll make good," Archie concluded.
"You little pirate!" Sir Archibald ejaculated.
Father and son laughed together. Then Sir Archibald began to drum on
the desk with his finger-tips. Presently he got up and began to pace
the floor, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his lips pursed, his
brows drawn in a scowl of reflection. This was a characteristic thing.
Sir Archibald invariably paced, and pursed his lips, and scowled, when
a problem of more than ordinary interest engaged him. He knew that
Archie's plan was not unreasonable. There _might_--there _ought_ to
be--good profit in a cash-trading voyage in a small schooner to the
harbours of White Bay and the French Shore. There are no shops in most
of these little settlements. Shops go to the people in the form of
trading-schooners from St. John's and the larger ports of the more
southerly coast. It is in this way that the fisher-folk procure their
flour and tea, their medicines and clothing, their tackle, their
molasses, pins and needles, their trinkets, everything, in fact, both
the luxuries and necessities of life. It is chiefly a credit business,
the prices based on credit; the folk are outfitted in the spring and
pay in salt-cod in the late summer and fall. Why shouldn't a
cash-trader, underselling the credit plan, do well on the coast in a
small way?
By and by, his face clearing, Sir Archibald sat down at the desk
again.
"How much do you want?" he asked, directly.
Archie took a grip on the arms of his chair and clenched his teeth. It
took a good deal of resolution to utter the amount.
"Well, well?" Sir Archibald impatiently demanded.
"A thousand dollars," said Archie, grimly.
Sir Archibald started.
"Two hundred and fifty dollars in cash," Archie added, "and seven
hundred and fifty in credit at the warehouse."
"What's the security?" Sir Archibald blandly inquired.
"Security!" Archie gasped.
"It is a customary consideration in business," said Sir Archibald.
Archie's house of cards seemed to be tumbling about his ears.
Security? He had not thought of that. He began to drum on the desk
with his finger-tips. Presently he got up and began to pace the floor,
his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his lips pursed, his brow drawn
in a scowl of reflection. Sir Archibald, recognizing his own habit in
his son's perturbation, smiled in a fatherly-fond way. The boy was
very dear to him; no doubt about it. But Sir Archibald was not
sentimental in the affection.
"Well, sir," said Archie, by and by, his face clearing as he sat down,
"I could offer you security, and good enough security, but it doesn't
seem quite fair."
Sir Archibald asked the nature of the bond.
"I have a pony and cart, a motor boat and a sloop yacht," Archie
replied, grinning. "I 'low," he drawled, with a sly drooping of his
eyelids, "that they're worth more than a thousand dollars. Eh, father?
What do _you_ think?"
Sir Archibald guffawed.
"The trouble is," Archie went on, seriously, "that you gave them to
me; and it doesn't seem fair to you to offer them as security. But I
tell you, dad," he declared, "if we don't make good in this trading
cruise I'll sell those things and do without 'em. It isn't fair, I
know--it seems pretty mean to you--it looks as if I didn't care for
what you've given me. But I do care; and you know I care. The trouble
is that I want awfully to go trading."
"It is the only security you have?"
"Except mother," said Archie. "But," he added, hastily, "I wouldn't--I
_won't_--drag a lady into this."
Sir Archibald threw back his head and roared.
"What you laughing at, dad?" Archie asked, a little offended, if a
quick flush meant anything.
"I'm sure," his father replied, "that the lady wouldn't mind."
"No," said Archie, grave with his little problem of honour; "but I
wouldn't let a lady in for a thing like that."
"Son," said Sir Archibald, now all at once turning very serious, "you
have better security than your pony and sloop."
Archie looked up in bewilderment.
"It is your integrity," Sir Archibald explained, gently, "and your
efficiency."
Archie flushed with pleasure.
"These are great things to possess," said Sir Archibald.
"Thank you, sir," said Archie, rising in acknowledgment of this hearty
compliment.
The lad was genuinely moved.