A DISSATISFIED SHAREHOLDER
Cartwright had read the morning's letters and the _Journal of Commerce_,
and finding nothing important, turned his revolving chair to the fire.
He had been forced to wait for a train at a draughty station, and his
feet were cold. His office occupied an upper floor of an old-fashioned
building near the docks. Fog from the river rolled up the street and the
windows were grimed by soot, but Cartwright had not turned on the
electric light. The fire snapped cheerfully, and he lighted his pipe and
looked about.
The furniture was shabby, the carpet was getting threadbare, and some of
the glass in the partition that cut off the clerks' office was cracked.
Cartwright had thought about modernizing and decorating the rooms, but
to do the thing properly would cost five hundred pounds, and money was
scarce. Besides, a number of the merchants who shipped goods by his
boats were conservative and rather approved his keeping the parsimonious
rules of the old school.
The house was old and had been at one time rich and powerful.
Cartwright's father, however, had used sailing ships too long, and
Cartwright's speculations and extravagance when he took control had not
mended its fortunes. Then had come a number of lean years when few
shipping companies earned a dividend and the line's capital steadily
melted. Now the shareholders were not numerous and the ships were small.
Cartwright glanced at the pictures in tarnished gold frames. _Oreana_,
drawn plunging across an Atlantic comber, was the best of the fleet, but
her engineer had for some time demanded new boilers. Since the reserve
fund was low and other boats needed expensive repairs, Cartwright
resolved to wait. He had bought _Melphomene_, above the fireplace, very
cheap; but her engines were clumsy compounds and she cost much to coal.
Still she was fast, and now and then got a paying load by reaching a
port where freights were high before the _Conference_ found out that
Cartwright meant to cut the rates.
_Titania_, with the white deckhouse and shade-deck, carried a good load
on a light draught, and sometimes picked up a profitable cargo in
shallow African lagoons. When he glanced at her picture Cartwright's
look got thoughtful. She was one of two sister ships, launched at a
famous yard, and Cartwright had wanted both, but the builders demanded
terms of payment he could not meet, and another company had bought the
vessel. She was wrecked soon afterwards, and now lay buried in the sand
by an African river bar. The salvage company had given up their efforts
to float her, but Cartwright imagined she could be floated if one were
willing to run a risk. But no one, it seemed was willing. On the failure
of the salvage company the underwriters had put the steamer into the
hands of Messrs. Bull and Morse, a firm of Ship Brokers and Marine
Auctioneers, but at the public auction no bids whatever had been made.
Subsequently advertisements appeared in the shipping papers inviting
offers for the ship as she lay and for the salvage of the cargo. These
had run for several weeks, but without result. Cartwright had cut them
out. Now and then he looked at them and speculated about the
undertaking.
By and by the bookkeeper came in and filed some letters. Gavin's hair
was going white, and he had been with Cartwright's since he was a boy.
He was fat, red-faced, and humorous, although his humor was not refined.
Gavin liked to be thought something of a sport, but Cartwright knew he
was staunch.
"You imagine Mrs. Seaton will look me up this morning?" Cartwright said
presently.
"Yes, sir. She called and demanded to see you. In fact, I think she
doubted when I told her you hadn't come back from the North. She said
the shareholders' meeting would be soon and she expected you to give a
bigger dividend; the Blue Funnel people had paid five per cent. If you
didn't return before long, she might run up to Carrock. So I sent the
telegram."
Cartwright nodded. He trusted his bookkeeper, who had grounds for
imagining it was not altogether desirable Mrs. Seaton should arrive at
Carrock.
"Have you heard anything from Manners while I was away?"
"Nothing direct, sir. His nephew, Hatton, came round with a tender for
the bunker coal, and implied that he ought to get the job. Then I had a
notion Mrs. Seaton, so to speak, was _primed_. Looked as if somebody had
got at her; her arguments about the dividend were rather good."
"It's possible," said Cartwright dryly. "If she comes, you can show her
in. But what about the wine?"
"I don't know if it will see you out. There's not a great deal left, and
last time--"
Cartwright's eyes twinkled. "Exactly! Send for another bottle and see
you get the proper stuff. Some of the biscuits, too; you know the kind.
Rather a bother, but perhaps the best plan!"
"Safer than going out to lunch," Gavin remarked. "Then, in the office,
you're on your own ground. That counts."
"Gives you moral support and handicaps an antagonist who's not a
business man?" Cartwright suggested. "Well, perhaps it does so, but I
see some drawbacks. Anyhow, get the wine."
Gavin went off and Cartwright mused by the fire. The morning was raw and
foggy, and if he went out, the damp might get at his throat; moreover,
Gavin would reply to his letters. Cartwright had begun to feel it was
time to let others work while he looked on. His control counted for less
than he had thought; things went without much guidance and it was enough
to give them a push in the proper direction now and then. To rouse
himself for an effort was getting harder and he would have been
satisfied to rest, had not his pride, and, to some extent, his
step-children's antagonism, prevented his doing so. He needed money and
would not use his wife's.
One must pay for old extravagances, and the bills were coming in; Mrs.
Seaton's expected call was an example. Ellen was a widow, but before she
married Seaton, Cartwright knew she counted him her lover. They were
alike in temperament; rash, strong-willed, and greedy for all that gave
life a thrill. In fact, Ellen was a stimulating comrade, but not the
kind of girl one married. Cartwright married Clara and knew Mrs. Seaton
bore him a lasting grudge.
Since Seaton was a merchant whose investments in Liverpool were
numerous, it was perhaps not strange he left his widow shares that gave
her some control of the Cartwright line. Although she was not poor, she
was greedy and extravagant. In fact, Cartwright imagined greed was now
her ruling passion.
By and by he heard steps in the passage behind the partition and thought
he knew the tap of high-heeled shoes. Then he heard a laugh and Gavin's
voice. Ellen was using her charm on his bookkeeper and the old sport
would play up. The door opened, the room smelt of violets, and Mrs.
Seaton came in. She was tall and her furs gave her large figure a touch
of dignity. Her color was sharply white and red, and in the rather dim
light her skin was like a girl's. Cartwright knew Ellen was younger than
he, but not very much.
"You look hipped and rather slack, Tom," she said when he got up and
Gavin fetched a chair.
"I feel the cold and damp," Cartwright replied. "Then managing a
tramp-steamship line when freights are low is a wearing job."
Mrs. Seaton took off her coat. "Your office is shabby and climbing all
those stairs is a pull. Why don't you launch out, get a lift, and
modernize things?"
"My trouble is to keep the boats supplied with coal and stores. Besides,
you see, I don't often use my office for a drawing-room."
"You're very cautious," Mrs. Seaton remarked with a laugh. "You start to
get on guard before I begin my attack."
"Oh, well," said Cartwright, smiling, "I know your power. But would you
like a cigarette?"
She took the curiously-decorated box he gave her and broke the seal.
"Since you don't smoke these things, Tom, you were rather nice to
remember."
"You had better take the box," said Cartwright. "I sent for a few when
_Titania_ went to the Levant. One understands they're hard to get in
England. But I have something else you like. If you will wait a
moment--"
He rang a bell and Gavin entered, carrying two small glasses, a bottle,
and some biscuits. When he went out, Cartwright turned the bottle so
Mrs. Seaton could see the label.
"Climbing our stairs is a fag," he said, and filled the glasses.
Mrs. Seaton smiled and took hers. Cartwright saw her rings sparkle and
the gleam of her regular, white teeth. The reflection from the grate
touched her hair and it shone a smooth golden-brown. He admitted with
amusement that Ellen was nearly as attractive as he had thought her
thirty years since.
"This is like old times, Tom," she said. "I remember evenings when you
brought me sandwiches and iced cup at a dance--but I don't think you
were ever remarkably romantic."
Cartwright remembered an evening when they sat under a shaded lamp in a
quiet corner of a supper room, listening to music that somehow fired
one's blood. But perhaps it was the iced cup he had generously drunk.
All the same he had not been a fool, though he was tempted. He knew
something about Ellen then, but he knew her better now. Perhaps it was
typical that she had promptly put the box of Eastern cigarettes in her
muff.
"Managing ships is not a romantic occupation," he rejoined.
"Anyway, your welcome's kind and I feel shabby because I'm forced to
bother you. But suppose some of your customers arrive?"
"We shall not be disturbed," said Cartwright, smiling. "Gavin knows his
job."
"Very well. Do you expect to declare a better dividend at the
shareholders' meeting?"
"I do not. If I'm lucky, I may keep the dividend where it is, but I
don't know yet."
"Two per cent. is really nothing," Mrs. Seaton remarked. "I've been
forced to study economy and you know how I hate to pinch. Besides, I
know an investment that would give me eight per cent."
"Then, if you're satisfied the venture is not risky, you ought to buy
the shares."
"I want to buy, but it's a small, private company and the people
stipulate I must take a large block. I have not enough money."
Cartwright doubted, but her plan was obvious. "When trade is slack, one
ought to be careful about investing in a private company that pays eight
per cent," he said. "After all, it might be prudent to be satisfied with
a small profit."
"But I'm not satisfied and your dividend is remarkably small! Are you
really unable to make it larger?"
"One can't pay dividends out of capital. Anyhow, one can't keep it up
for long!"
"Then, as I mean to make a plunge, I must sell some of the investments
that don't earn me much. My shares in the line carry a good number of
votes and, if people grumble at the meeting, would give you some
control. Will you buy them, Tom?"
Cartwright knitted his brows. He thought her hint about the shares
giving him useful power was significant. In fact, it looked as if
somebody had put Ellen on his track. He wondered whether Manners.... But
she must not think him disturbed.
"What is your price?" he asked.
"My price?" she said with a puzzled look he thought well done. "Of
course, I want the sum the shares stand for."
"I'm sorry it's impossible. Just now the shares of very few shipping
companies are worth their face value. For example, five-pound shares in
a good line were not long since offered at two pounds ten."
Mrs. Seaton looked disturbed. "That's dreadful!" she exclaimed. "But I'm
not rich enough to bear a heavy loss, and if you bought my lot, the
voting power would enable you to break the grumblers' opposition.
They're worth more to you than anybody else. Can't you help me?"
Cartwright gave her a smiling glance, although he was bothered. Ellen
was not a fool and he noted her insistence on the value of the shares to
him. Where this led was obvious. He had one or two powerful antagonists
and knew of plots to force his retirement. Ellen had given him his
choice; he must promise a larger dividend or buy her shares at something
over their market price. This, of course, was impossible, but he
imagined she did not know how poor he was.
"I can't buy," he said. "I must trust my luck and fighting power.
Although we have had stormy meetings and rates are bad, the line is
running yet."
"If you haven't enough money, why don't you ask your wife? She's rich
and hasn't risked much of her capital in the line."
"That is so," Cartwright agreed. Ellen meant to be nasty but he must be
cool. "Although my wife is rich, I don't use her money."
"You're not logical, and sometimes your fastidiousness isn't very
marked. However, it looks as if you didn't marry because Clara was rich.
She was romantic before she began to get fat."
Cartwright's face got red. He had had enough and saw Ellen was getting
savage. She had not forgotten that, in a sense, he ought to have married
her, and since he would not buy her shares, she would, no doubt, help
his antagonists. Crossing the floor, he poked the fire noisily.
"Shall I give you some more wine?" he asked, and while he was occupied
with the glasses the telephone bell rang behind the partition. A few
moments afterwards Gavin came in.
"Moreton has rung up, sir. If you can give him five minutes, he'll come
across. He says it's important."
Mrs. Seaton put on her coat. "I mustn't stop when an important customer
is coming." Then she laughed and gave Cartwright her hand. "You are very
obstinate, Tom, but I know your pluck."
She went off. Gavin took away the wine, and Cartwright opened the
window. The smell of violets vanished, but when he sat down again he
pondered. He knew Mrs. Seaton, and thought she meant to hint his pluck
might soon be needed. When Ellen smiled like that she was plotting
something.