Cappy Ricks Part 48

Matt grinned at this earnest commendation.

"Of course I can operate the Narcissus and meet my monthly payments to the Oriental Steams.h.i.+p Company and still be ahead of the game," he continued. "But I'm going to sell her, Mr. Ricks. I've had an offer of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars for her already--and she's still waiting to be hauled out on the marine railway and put in commission!

I'll just wait one week and by that time she'll bring half a million.

At that I hate to sell, but I've got to. I figure a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

"Why have you got to?" Cappy shrilled. "You're crazy! You don't have to."

"But the next payment will come due on her before I receive any charter money from the Steel people, and that will clean me for fair. I can't help myself. Besides, I've got these other fifteen vessels chartered; I'll have to have capital--and I've got to have it quickly or I'll be a pauper while you'd be saying Jack Robinson."

"But, Matt, you old dunderhead, you mustn't sell a good thing. Why, man, you've got a million and a half profit right in the hollow of your hand; and, oh, we mustn't let it get away, Matt--we mustn't let it get away!

"It was magnificent, Matt--perfectly magnificent. I'll help you, sonny.

By golly, I'll go to the bat for you and back you for the last dollar I have. No more monkeys.h.i.+nes between us now, boy! We've had a lot of fun in our day, playing nip and tuck with each other; but this is real business. You've got to be saved."

"I had an idea that you would see it in that light, sir," Matt suggested smilingly. "I knew you'd back me up; so I didn't worry. But you'll have to take half the profit on the deals I've made--that's only fair."

"Profits!" Cappy Ricks sneered. "Why, what the devil do I care for profits? You keep the profits. You and Florry are young and you'll know how to enjoy them. Why, what do you think I am? A human hog? Let me sit in the game with you--let me play the game of business with you, son, down to my last buffalo nickel. I can't take the blamed money with me when I die, can I? But don't ask me to make any money out of you, my boy. I'm going to get my fun watching you in action."

Matt Peasley came close and took old Cappy Ricks' hand in both of his.

"I want to be your partner," he said wistfully. "I couldn't come into this office and sponge off you, and so I've waited until I could buy in! I wanted to bring some a.s.sets besides myself when I should come to manage the Blue Star. May I, sir? I want to turn in this big deal I've put over for stock in the Ricks Lumber and Logging Company and the Blue Star Navigation Company; and, then, with Skinner managing the lumber end, I'll sit in and run the fleet--and you just sit round and help and offer advice, Mr. Ricks. Let me turn in the Narcissus for what I have been offered--four hundred and fifty thousand dollars--and take stock.

"I don't want to be an employee; I don't want to be just your son-in-law, waiting for your shoes. I want to be your partner--to be more than a cog in the machine. And those freighters I've chartered--why, I could never have chartered them without your help. Who was I? Would I have had any credit or standing with those big Eastern s.h.i.+pping firms? Not much! I represented myself as the general manager of the Blue Star Navigation Company. And they knew about you--you were rated A-1 in financial circles."

"You what?" yelled Cappy. "General manager! You infernal duffer, why didn't you cut the whole hog and call yourself president?"

"I had my cards printed to read: Vice President and General Manager,"

Matt replied with a twinkle. "I didn't feel any qualms of conscience about cutting that much of the hog, because I knew you would make me vice president and general manager as soon as I got back with the bacon!

So I signed all the charters, 'Blue Star Navigation Company, by Matthew Peasley, V. P. and G.M.'--drew a raft of sight drafts on you also.

They'll be putting in an appearance in a day or two. I got home just about two jumps ahead of them."

"You're a devil!" said Cappy Ricks. "But--I'll pay the drafts." Matt laughed happily. "You're bringing about a million and a half into the company--at least, if everything goes well, you will; and you've got a half interest in what you have brought in," Cappy continued.

He touched a push b.u.t.ton. An instant later Mr. Skinner appeared.

"Skinner, my dear boy," said Cappy, "Matt has a flock of charters he has made for us in the East--also, a flock of recharters of the same boats--also, a contract of sale on the steamer Narcissus. Make out a form of a.s.signment of that contract from the Pacific s.h.i.+pping Company to the Blue Star Navigation Company and Matt will sign it. We'll keep that boat ourselves. Then give Matt a check for the next payment due that man MacCandless on the Narcissus and after you've cleaned up with Matt, Skinner, have Hankins issue him seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of stock--half in the Blue Star and half in the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company. Tell Hankins, also, to call a special meeting of the board of directors of both companies for ten o'clock tomorrow--and to be sure to have a quorum present. And in the meantime put the Narcissus under provisional American registry."

"Why, what are you going to do?" Mr. Skinner demanded wonderingly.

Cappy walked tip to his general manager and affectionately placed his hand on Skinner's arm.

"Skinner, my dear boy," he said, "we're going to elect you president of the lumber company and Matt is to be president of the Navigation Company. I'm going to resign and be a sort of president emeritus of both companies and advisory director to both boards. Matt, you might tell Skinner what your plans are for the Blue Star."

"Well," said Matt, "I'm going to leave the president emeritus on the job a few months longer."

"Not by a jugful! I quit tomorrow. Hereafter I'm just scenery. I'm old and I must give way to youth. I've had my day; I'm out of the running now," Cappy answered sadly.

"We're going to leave the president emeritus on the job," Matt repeated, "while I go to Europe and pick up a couple of big British tramps, under the provisions of the recent Emergency s.h.i.+pping Act, and stick 'em under the American flag. Regardless of what the other fellows may do or think, the fact is we're American citizens; and we're going to do our duty and help establish an American mercantile marine. Skinner, we'll make the Blue Star flag known on the Seven Seas."

Cappy Ricks sprang into the air and got one thin old arm round Matt Peasley's neck; with the other he groped for Skinner, for there were tears in his fine old eyes.

"What a pair of lads to have round me!" he said huskily. "Matt--Skinner, my boy--by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!--we'll do it; not because we need the money or want it, or give a particular d.a.m.n to h.o.a.rd up a heap of it, but because it's the right thing to do. It's patriotic--it's American--our activities shall enrich the world--and oh, it's such a bully game to play!"

Mr. Skinner glanced at Cappy Ricks with the closest approach to downright affection he considered quite dignified to permit during business hours.

"I notice you were going to quit a minute ago to become president emeritus--and now you're including yourself in the new program of activity," he reminded Cappy Ricks. "I seem to remember that for the past few years you've been talking of the happy day when you could retire and learn to play golf."

"Golf!" Cappy glanced at Mr. Skinner witheringly. "Skinner," he continued, "don't be an a.s.s! Golf is an old man's game--and I belong with the young fellows. Why, don't you remember the day, three years ago, when we discovered we had a sailor named Matt Peasley before the mast in the old Retriever? Why, ever since I've been having so much fun--"

"And that reminds me," Matt interrupted: "We must send a new skipper to Aberdeen to relieve Mike Murphy in the Retriever. He has his ticket for steam and I've hired him at two hundred and fifty a month to skipper the Narcissus. Mike is one of the best men under the Blue Star; he has come up from before the mast."

"The only kind I ever gave a whoop for," Cappy declared. "In effect, he once told me to go chase myself."

"But," Skinner persisted, "how about playing golf?"

Cappy Ricks raised his eyes reverently upward. "Please G.o.d," he said, "I'll die in the harness!"

"Amen!" said Mr. Skinner; and Matt Peasely re-echoed the sentiment.