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diff --git a/6020-h/6020-h.htm b/6020-h/6020-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2af474b --- /dev/null +++ b/6020-h/6020-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16022 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Cappy Ricks Retires, by Peter B. Kyne + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cappy Ricks Retires, by Peter B. Kyne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cappy Ricks Retires + But that doesn't keep him from coming back stronger than ever + +Author: Peter B. Kyne + + +Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6020] +This file was first posted on October 19, 2002 +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPPY RICKS RETIRES *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + CAPPY RICKS RETIRES + </h1> + <h2> + <i>But that doesn't keep him from coming back stronger than ever</i> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Peter B. Kyne + </h2> + <p> + THE ILLUSTRATIONS (not available in this edtition) + </p> + <p> + But, in time, Cappy would find her a rich husband + </p> + <p> + <i>(Excerpt from the log of Capt. Matt Peasley:)</i> “I am alone on the + ship—all the rest are now dead—” + </p> + <p> + He always shouted when telephoning + </p> + <p> + “Two million dollars!” cried J. Augustus Redell + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>CAPPY RICKS RETIRES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER LX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER LXI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + CAPPY RICKS RETIRES + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + If you have read previous tales of the Blue Star Navigation Company and + the various brisk individuals connected therewith, you will recall one + Michael J. Murphy, who first came to the attention of Cappy Ricks at the + time he, the said Murphy, was chief kicker of the barkentine <i>Retriever</i> + under Captain Matt Peasley. Subsequently, when Matt Peasley presented in + his person indubitable evidence of the wisdom of the old saw that you + cannot keep a good man down, Michael J. became skipper of the <i>Retriever</i>. + This berth he continued to occupy with pleasure and profit to all + concerned, until a small financial tidal wave, which began with Matt + Peasley's purchase, at a ridiculously low figure, of the Oriental + Steamship Company's huge freighter, <i>Narcissus</i>, swept the cunning + Matthew into the presidency of the Blue Star Navigation Company; whereupon + Matt designed to take Murphy out of the <i>Retriever</i> and have him try + his hand in steam as master of the <i>Narcissus</i>. + </p> + <p> + The same financial tidal wave had swept Cappy Ricks out of the presidency + of the Blue Star Navigation Company—presumably far up the beach to a + place in the sun, where he was to bask for the remainder of his old age as + president emeritus of all his companies. However, if there was one thing + about Cappy you could depend upon absolutely it was the consistency of his + inconsistency. For, having announced his retirement, his very next move + was to bewail his inability to retire. He insisted upon clinging to the + business like a barnacle to a ship, and was always very much in evidence + whenever any deal of the slightest importance was about to be consummated. + Indeed, he was never so thoroughly in command as when, his first burst of + enthusiasm anent the acquisition of the <i>Narcissus</i> at fifty per + cent. of her value having passed, he discovered that his son-in-law + planned to order Mike Murphy off the quarter-deck of the <i>Retriever</i> + onto the bridge of the <i>Narcissus</i>, while an unknown answering to the + name of Terence Reardon had been selected for her chief engineer. + </p> + <p> + Cappy listened to Matt Peasley's announcement; then with a propitiatory + “Ahem! Hum! Harump-h-h-h!” he hitched himself forward in his chair and + gazed at Matt over the rims of his spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Matt,” he demanded presently, “who is this man Reardon? I do not + recall such an engineer in our employ—and I thought I knew them + all.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not in our employ, sir. He has been chief engineer of the <i>Arab</i> + for the past eight years, and prior to that he was chief of the <i>Narcissus</i>. + It was Reardon who told me what ailed her. She's a hog on coal, and the + Oriental steamship people used to nag him about the fuel bills. Their port + engineer didn't agree with Reardon as to what was wrong with her, so he + left. He assures me that if her condensers are retubed she'll burn from + seven to ten tons of coal less per day.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! So you're going to give him the job for telling you something our + own port engineer would have told us after an examination.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I'm going to give him the job because he has earned it. He gave + me some very valuable information about the wretched condition of her + electric-light plant and a crack, cunningly concealed, in the after web of + her crank shaft—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by thunder,” piped Cappy, “that's worth knowing! Ship a new crank + shaft, Matt, and save the Blue Star a salvage bill sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “All that inside information will not only save us money in the future,” + Matt continued, “but it enabled me to drive a closer bargain when dealing + with MacCandless, of the Oriental Steamship Company. Consequently Terence + Reardon gets the job. He's only making a hundred and fifty dollars a month + in the <i>Arab</i>, and as he is a rattling good man—I've looked him + up, sir—I've promised him a hundred and seventy-five a month in the + <i>Narcissus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you've already promised him the job, eh? Mistake, Matt, serious + mistake. You say you looked him up, but I'll bet you a new hat there is + one thing about him that you failed to investigate, and that is: What kind + of Irish is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, regular Irish, of course—mighty good Irish, I should say. + Keen, observing, not too talkative, a hard worker, temperate in his habits + and a crackajack engineer to boot.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy settled back wearily in his chair and favored his youthful partner + with a glance of tolerant amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Matt,” he announced, “those are the qualifications we look for in an + engineer, and it's been my experience that the Irish and the Scotch make + the best marine engineers in the world. But when you've been in the + shipping game as long as I have, young man, you'll know better than to + pick two Irishmen as departmental chiefs in the same ship! I did it—once. + There was a red-headed scoundrel named Dennis O'Leary who went from A.B. + to master in the <i>Florence Ricks</i>. That fellow was a bulldog. He made + up his mind he was going to be master of the <i>Florence</i> and I + couldn't stop him. Good man—damned good! And there was a black + Irishman, John Rooney, in the <i>Amelia Ricks</i>. Had ambitions just like + O'Leary. He went from oiler to first assistant in the <i>Amelia</i>. Fine + man—damned fine! So fine, in fact, that when the chief of the <i>Florence</i> + died I shifted Rooney to her immediately. And what was the result? Why, + riot, of course. Matt, the Irish will fight anybody and anything, but + they'll fight quicker, with less excuse and greater delight, among + themselves, than any other nationality! The <i>Florence Ricks</i> carried + a million feet of lumber, but she wasn't big enough for Rooney and + O'Leary, so I fired them both, not being desirous of playing favorites. + Naturally, each blamed the other for the loss of his job, and without a + word having been spoken they went out on the dock and fought the bloodiest + draw I have ever seen on the San Francisco waterfront. After they had been + patched up at the Harbor Hospital, both came and cussed me and told me I + was an ingrate, so I hired them both back again, put them in different + ships, slipped each of them a good, cheerful Russian Finn, and saved + funeral expenses. That's what I got, Matt, for not asking those two what + kind of Irish they were. Now, then, sonny, once more. What kind of Irish + is Terence Rearden?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know, I tell you. He's just Irish.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for the great gift of + patience. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to the boy,” he demanded of an imaginary bystander. “He doesn't + know! Well, stick your head down over his engine-room grating some day, + sing The Boyne Wather—and find out! Now, then, do you happen to know + what kind of Irish Mike Murphy is? You ought to. You were shipmates with + him in the <i>Retriever</i> long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mike's from Galway. He goes to mass on Sunday when he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! If he's from Galway, where did he leave his brogue? He runs to the + broad <i>a</i> like an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “That's easily explained. Mike left his brogue in Galway. He came to this + country when he was six years old and was raised in Boston. That's where + he picked up his broad <i>a</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't help a bit, Matt. He's Irish just the same, and what a + Yankee like you don't know about the Irish would fill a book. You know, + Matt, there are a few rare white men that can handle Chinamen + successfully; now and then you'll run across one that can handle niggers; + but I have never yet met anybody who could figure the mental angles of the + Irish except an Irishman. There's something in an Irishman that drives him + into the bandwagon. He's got to be the boss, and if he can't be the boss + he'll sit round and criticize. But if I want a man to handle Chinamen, or + niggers, or Japs, or Bulgarians I'll advertise for an Irishman and take + the first one that shows up. A young man like you, Matt, shouldn't monkey + with these people. They're a wonderful race and very much misunderstood, + and if you don't start 'em right on the job you'll always be in trouble. + Now, Matt, I've always done the hiring and firing for the Blue Star + Navigation Company, and as a result I've had blamed little of it to do, + considering the size of our fleet; consequently I'll just give these two + Harps the Double-O. Have Murphy and Reardon at the office at nine o'clock + to-morrow morning and I'll read them the riot act before turning them to.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks was at his office at eight-fifty the following morning. At + eight-fifty-two Mr. Terence Reardon, plainly uncomfortable in a ready-made + blue-serge Sunday suit purchased on the Embarcadero for twenty-five + dollars, came into the office. He was wearing a celluloid collar, and a + quite noticeable rattle as he shook hands with Cappy Ricks betrayed the + fact that he also was wearing celluloid cuffs; for, notwithstanding the + fact that he bathed twice a day, Mr. Reardon's Hibernian hide contained + much of perspiration, coal dust, metal grit and lubricating oil, and such + substances can always be washed off celluloid collars and cuffs. To his + credit be it known that Terence Reardon knew his haberdashery was not <i>au + fait</i>, for his wife never failed to remind him of it; but unfortunately + he was the possessor of a pair of grimy hands that nothing on earth could + ever make clean, and even when he washed them in benzine they always left + black thumb prints on a linen collar during the process of adjustment. He + had long since surrendered to his fate. + </p> + <p> + At eight-fifty-four Mike Murphy arrived. Murphy was edging up into the + forties, but still he was young enough at heart to take a keen interest in + his personal appearance, and a tailor who belonged to Michael's council of + the Knights of Columbus had decked him out in a suit of English tweeds of + the latest cut and in most excellent taste. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, captain,” Cappy Ricks greeted him. “Ahead of time as usual. + Meet Mr. Terence Reardon, late chief of the <i>Arab</i>. He is to be a + shipmate of yours—chief of the <i>Narcissus</i>, you know. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Reardon, shake hands with Captain Mike Murphy. Captain Murphy has + been in our employ a number of years as master of sail. The <i>Narcissus</i> + will be his first command in steam.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence Reardon, eh?” echoed Mike Murphy pleasantly. “That sounds like a + good name. Glad to meet you, chief. What part of the old country are you + from? The West?” + </p> + <p> + The wish was father to the thought, since Mike was from the West himself. + </p> + <p> + “I'm from the Nort'—from Belfast,” Mr. Reardon replied in a deep + Kerry brogue, and extended a grimy paw upon the finger of which Mike + Murphy observed a gold ring that proclaimed Mr. Terence Reardon—an + Irishman, presumably a Catholic—one who had risen to the third + degree in Freemasonry. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks saw that ring also, and started visibly. A Knight Templar + himself, Terence Reardon was the last person on earth in whom he expected + to find a brother Mason. He glanced at Mike Murphy and saw that the + skipper was looking, not at Mr. Reardon, but at the Masonic emblem. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, chief,” Cappy hastened to interrupt. “Have a chair, captain. + Mr. Reardon, my son-in-law, Captain Peasley here, tells me you were chief + of the <i>Narcissus</i> when she was on the China run for the Oriental + Steamship Company.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon sat down heavily, set his derby hat on the floor beside him + and replied briefly: “I was.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Murphy excused himself and drew Matt Peasley out of the room. “God + knows,” he whispered hoarsely, “religion should never enter into the + working of a ship, and I suppose I'll have to get along with that fellow; + but did you mark the Masonic ring on the paw of the Far-Down? And on the + right hand, too! The jackass don't know enough to wear it on his left + hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's wrong about being a Mason?” Matt protested. “Cappy's a Mason + and so am I.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing wrong about it—with you and Cappy Ricks. That's your + privilege. You're Protestants.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe the chief's a Protestant, too,” Matt suggested, but Mike + Murphy silenced him with a sardonic smile. + </p> + <p> + “With that name?” he queried, and laughed the brief, mirthless laugh of + the man who knows. “And he says he's from Belfast! Man, I could cut that + Kerry brogue with a belaying pin.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mike,” Matt interrupted, “I never before suspected you were + intolerant of a shipmate's private convictions. I must say this attitude + of yours is disturbing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm not a bigot,” Murphy protested virtuously. “Who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're a Catholic, and you resent Reardon because he's a + Protestant.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it. You're a Protestant, and don't I love you like a + brother?” + </p> + <p> + Matt thought he saw the light. “Oh, I see,” he replied. “It's because + Reardon is an Irish Protestant.” + </p> + <p> + “Almost—but not quite. God knows I hate the Orangemen for what they + did to me and mine, but at least they've been Protestant since the time of + Henry VIII. But the lad inside there has no business to be a Protestant. + The Lord intended him for a Catholic—and he knows it. He's a + renegade. I don't blame you for being a Protestant, Matt. It's none of my + business.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley had plumbed the mystery at last. He had been reading a good + deal in the daily papers about Home Rule for Ireland, the Irish + Nationalists, the Ulster Volunteers, the Unionists, and so on, and in a + vague way he had always understood that religious differences were at the + bottom of it all. He realized now that it was something deeper than that—a + relic of injustice and oppression; a hostility that had come to Mike + Murphy as a heritage from his forbears—something he had imbibed at + his mother's breast and was, for purposes of battle, a more vital issue + than the interminable argument about the only safe road to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Matt murmured. “Reardon, being Irish, has violated the national + code of the Irish—” + </p> + <p> + “You've said it, Matt. They're Tories at heart, every mother's son of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—Tories?” + </p> + <p> + “That they're for England, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't blame them. So am I. Aren't you, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “May God forgive you,” Mike Murphy answered piously. “I am not. I'm for + their enemies. I'm for anything that's against England. Ireland is not a + colony. She's a nation. Man, man, you don't understand. Only an Irishman + can, and he gets it at his mother's or his grandmother's knee—the + word-of-mouth history of his people, the history that isn't in the books! + Do you think I can forget? Do you think I want to forget?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Matt Peasley replied quietly; “I think you'll have to forget—in + so far as Terence Reardon is concerned. This is the land of the free and + the home of the brave, and even when you're outside the three-mile limit I + want you to remember, Mike, that the good ship <i>Narcissus</i> is under + the American flag. The <i>Narcissus</i> needs all her space for cargo, + Mike. There is no room aboard her for a feud. Don't ever poke your nose + into Terence Reardon's engine-room except on his invitation or for the + purpose of locating a leak. Treat him with courtesy and do not discuss + politics or religion when you meet him at table, which will be about the + only opportunity you two will have to discuss anything; and if Reardon + wants to talk religion or politics you change your feeding time and avoid + meeting him. I've taken you out of the old <i>Retriever,</i> Mike, where + you've been earning a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month, to put you + in the <i>Narcissus</i> at two hundred and fifty. That is conclusive + evidence that I'm for you. But Terence Reardon is a crackajack chief + engineer, and I want you to remember that the Blue Star Navigation Company + needs him in its business quite as much as it needs Michael J. Murphy, and + if you two get scrapping I'm not going to take the trouble to investigate + and place the blame. I'll just call you both up on the carpet and make you + draw straws to see who quits.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair enough,” replied the honest Murphy. “If I can't be good I'll be as + good as I can.” + </p> + <p> + At that very instant Cappy Ricks was just discovering what kind of Irish + Mr. Terence Reardon was. + </p> + <p> + The most innocent remark brought him the information he sought. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Murphy, whom you have just met, is to be master of the <i>Narcissus,</i> + chief,” he explained. “He's a splendid fellow personally and a most + capable navigator, and like you he's Irish. I'm sure you'll get along + famously together.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy tried to smile away his apprehension, for a still small voice + whispered to him and questioned the right of Terence Reardon to call him + brother. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon's sole reply to this optimistic prophecy was a noncommittal + grunt, accompanied by a slight outthrust and uplift of the chin, a pursing + of the lips and the ghost of a sardonic little smile. Only an Irishman can + get the right tempo to that grunt—and the tempo is everything. In + the case of Terence Reardon it said distinctly: “I hope you're right, sir, + but privately I have my doubts.” However, not satisfied with pantomime, + Mr. Reardon went a trifle farther—for reasons best known to himself. + He laved the corner of his mouth with the tip of a tobacco-stained tongue + and said presently: “I can't say, Misther Ricks, that I quite like the cut + av that fella's jib.” + </p> + <p> + That was the Irish of it. A representative of any other race on earth + would have employed the third person singular when referring to the absent + Murphy; only an Irishman would have said “that fella,” and only a certain + kind of Irishman could have managed to inject into such simple words such + a note of scorn supernal. Cappy Ricks got the message—just like + that. + </p> + <p> + “Then stay off his bridge, Reardon,” he warned the chief. “Your job is in + the engine-room, so even if you and Captain Murphy do not like each other, + there will be no excuse for friction. The only communication you need have + with him is through the engine-room telegraph.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sor,” Terence Reardon replied respectfully, “I'll take it kindly av + you to tell him to keep out av me engine-room. I'll have no skipper + buttin' in on me, tellin' me how to run me engines an' askin' me why in + this an' that I don't go aisy on the coal. Faith, I've had thim do it—the + wanst—an' the wanst only. Begorra, I'd have brained thim wit' a + monkey wrench if they tried it a second time.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand,” Cappy remarked, “I've had to fire more than one chief + engineer who couldn't cure himself of a habit of coming up on the bridge + when the vessel got to port—to tell the skipper how to berth his + ship against a strong flood tide. I suppose that while we have steamships + the skippers will always wonder how the vessel can possibly make steerage + way, considering the chief engineers, while the chiefs will never cease + marvelling that such fine ships should be entrusted to a lot of Johnny + Know-Nothings. However, Reardon, I might as well tell you that the Blue + Star Navigation Company plays no favorites. When the chief and the skipper + begin to interfere with the dividends, they look overside some bright day + and see Alden P. Ricks waiting for them on the cap of the wharf. And when + the ship is alongside, the said Ricks comes aboard with five bones in his + pocket, and the said skipper and the said chief are invited into the + dining saloon to roll the said bones—one flop and high man out. Yes, + sir. Out! Out of the ship and out of the Blue Star employ—for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear you, sor. I hearrd you the first time,” Terence Reardon replied + complacently and reached for his pipe. “All I ask from you is a square + deal. I'll have it from the captain wit'out the askin'.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the Reardon breathing his defiance. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad we understand each other, chief. Just avoid arguments, political + or religious, and treat the skipper with courtesy. Then you'll get along + all right. Now with reference to your salary. The union scale is one + hundred and fifty dollars a month—” + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' yer pardon for the intherruption, sor, but the young man promised + me a hundhred an' siventy-five.” + </p> + <p> + “That was before the Blue Star Navigation Company took over the young man + and his ship <i>Narcissus.</i> Hereafter you'll deal with the old man in + such matters. I'm going to give you two hundred a month, Reardon, and you + are to keep the <i>Narcissus</i> out of the shop. Hear me, chief—out + of the shop.” + </p> + <p> + “No man can ordher me to do me djooty,” said Terence Reardon simply. “Tell + the fine gintleman on the bridge to keep her out av the kelp, an' faith, + she'll shtay out av the shop. Thank you kindly, sor. When do I go to + wurrk?” + </p> + <p> + “Your pay started this morning. The <i>Narcissus</i> goes on Christy's + ways in Oakland Harbor at the tip of the flood this afternoon. Get on the + ship and stay on her. It's a day-and-night rush job to get her in + commission, and you'll be paid time and a half while she's repairing. + Good-day and good luck to you, chief. Come in and see me whenever you get + to port.” And Cappy Ricks, most democratic of men, extended his hand to + his newest employee. Terence Reardon took it in his huge paw that would + never be clean any more, and held it for a moment, the while he looked + fearlessly into Cappy's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a proud man I am to wurrk for you, sor,” he said simply. “Tip-top + serrvice for tip-top pay, an' by the Great Gun av Athlone, you'll get it + from me, sor. If ever the ship is lost 'twill be no fault of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon's manner, as he thus calmly exculpated himself from the + penalty for future disaster, indicated quite clearly that Cappy Ricks, in + such a contingency, might look to the man higher up—on the bridge, + for instance. + </p> + <p> + When Terence Reardon had departed Cappy Ricks called Mike Murphy into the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Now, captain,” he began, “there are a few things I want to tell you. This + man Reardon is a fine, loyal fellow, but he's touchy—” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about him,” Murphy interrupted with a slight emphasis on the + pronoun. Unlike Mr. Reardon he employed the third person singular and did + not say “that fella,” for he had been raised in the United States of + America. + </p> + <p> + “I have already given the captain his instructions,” Matt Peasley + announced. “He understands the situation perfectly and will conduct + himself accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + A small army of men swarmed over, under and through the huge <i>Narcissus</i> + for the next three weeks, and the hearts of Cappy Ricks and Matt Peasley + were like to burst with pride as they stood on the bridge with Captain + Mike Murphy, while he ran the vessel over the measured course to test her + speed, and swung her in the bay while adjusting her compass. She was as + beautiful as money and paint could make her, and when Terence Reardon, in + calm disregard of orders, came up on the bridge to announce his unbounded + faith in the rejuvenated condensers and to predict a modest coal bill for + the future, Mike Murphy so far forgot himself as to order the steward to + bring up a bottle of something and begged Mr. Reardon to join him in three + fingers of nepenthe to celebrate the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “T'ank you, sor, but I never dhrink—on djooty,” Mr. Reardon retorted + with chill politeness, “nor,” he added, “wit' me immejiate superiors.” + </p> + <p> + A superficial analysis of this remark will convince the most sceptical + that Mr. Reardon, with true Hibernian adroitness, had managed to convey an + insult without seeming to convey it. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that a pity!” the skipper replied. “We'll excuse you to attend to + your duty, Mr. Reardon;” and he bowed the chief toward the companion + leading to the boat deck. The latter departed, furious, with an + uncomfortable feeling of having been out-generaled; and once a good + Irishman and true has undergone that humiliation it is a safe bet that the + Dove of Peace has lost her tail feathers. + </p> + <p> + “That's an unmannerly chief engineer,” Mike Murphy announced blandly, “but + for all that he's not without his good points. He'll not waste money in + his department.” + </p> + <p> + “A virtue which I trust you will imitate in yours, captain,” Cappy Ricks + snapped dryly. “Is Reardon working short-handed?” + </p> + <p> + “Only while we're loading, when he'll need just enough men to keep steam + up in the winches. When we go to sea, however, he'll have a full crew, but + the fun of it is they'll be non-union men with the exception of the + engineers and officers. The engineers will all belong to the Marine + Engineers' Association and the mates to Harbor 15, Masters' and Pilots' + Association.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll do nothing of the sort,” Matt Peasley declared quietly. “We have + union crews in all our other steamers, and the unions will declare a + strike on us if we put non-union men in the <i>Narcissus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course—if they find out. But they'll not. Besides, we're going + to the Atlantic Coast, so why should we bring a high-priced crew into a + low-priced market, Mr. Ricks? Leave it to me, sir. I'll load the ship with + longshoremen entirely, and we'll sail with the crew of that German liner + that came a few days ago to intern in Richardson's Bay until the European + war is over.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not partial to the German cause,” Matt Peasley announced. “So I'll + just veto that plan right now, Mike.” + </p> + <p> + “Matt, we're neutral,” Cappy declared. + </p> + <p> + “And it pays to ship those Germans, Matt,” Murphy continued. “I confess + I'm for the Germans, although not to such an extent that I'd go round + offering them jobs just because they <i>are</i> Germans. But the minute I + heard about that interned boat I said to myself: 'Now, here's a chance to + save the <i>Narcissus</i> some money. The crew of that liner will all be + discharged now that she is interned. However, the local unions will not + admit them to membership and they cannot work on any Pacific Coast boat + unless they hold union cards. Consequently they must seek other + occupations, and as the chances are these fellows do not speak English, + they're up against it. Also, they are foreigners who have paid no head tax + when coming into the country, because they are seamen. They have the right + to land and stay ashore three months, if they state that it is their + intention to ship out again within that period; but if they do not so + ship, then the immigration authorities may deport them as paupers or for + failure to pay the head tax; and in that event they will all be returned + to the vessel that brought them here, and the owners of the vessel will be + forced to intern them and care for them.' Under the circumstances, + therefore, I concluded they would jump at a job in an American vessel, for + the reason that under the American flag they would be reasonably safe; and + even if the <i>Narcissus</i> should be searched by a British cruiser, she + would not dare take these Germans off her. Remember, we had a war with + England once for boarding our ships and removing seamen!” + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet,” said Cappy Ricks, “there's something in + that, Matt.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a splendid saving in the pay roll, let me tell you,” the proud + Murphy continued. “I took the matter up at once with the German skipper + and he fixed it for me, and mighty glad he was to get his countrymen off + his hands. We get all that liner's coal passers, oilers, firemen, six + deckhands and four quartermasters at the scale of wages prevailing in + Hamburg. I know what it is in marks, but I haven't figured it out in + dollars and cents, although whatever it is it's a scandal! It almost cuts + our pay roll in half.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you speak German, captain?” Cappy queried excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir—more's the pity. But the four quartermasters speak + fair English, and I have engaged two good German-American mates who speak + German. Reardon has shipped German-American engineers and some of his coal + passers and firemen speak fair English. I've got two Native Son Chinamen + in the galley and a Cockney steward. We'll get along.” + </p> + <p> + “And a rattling fine idea, too,” Cappy Ricks declared warmly. “Mike, my + boy, you're a wonder. That's the spirit. Always keep down the overhead, + Matt. That's what eats up the dividends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't agree to it if the <i>Narcissus</i> wasn't going to be + engaged in neutral trade, or if she was carrying munitions of war to the + Allies,” Matt declared. “I'd be afraid some of Mike's Germans might blow + up the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” quoth Michael J. Murphy, “if she was engaged in freighting + munitions to England, it'd be a smart German that would get a chance to + blow her up. I think I'd scuttle her myself first.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mike, if your courage failed you,” Cappy Ricks replied laughingly, + “I think we could safely leave the job to Terence Reardon.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + On that first voyage the <i>Narcissus</i> carried general cargo to + northern ports on the West Coast. Then she dropped down to a nitrate port + and loaded nitrate for New York, and about the time she passed through the + Panama Canal the Blue Star Navigation Company wired its New York agent to + provide some neutral business for her next voyage. Freights were soaring + by this time, due to the scarcity of the foreign bottoms which formerly + had carried Uncle Sam's goods to market, and Cappy Ricks and Matt Peasley + knew the rates would increase from day to day, and that in consequence + their New York agents would experience not the slightest difficulty in + placing her—hence they delayed as long as they could placing her on + the market. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, the New York agents, realizing that higher freight + rates meant a correspondingly higher commission for them on the charter, + held off until the <i>Narcissus</i> had almost finished discharging at + Hoboken before they closed with a fine old New York importing and + exporting house for a cargo of soft coal from Norfolk, Virginia, to + Manila, or Batavia. The charterers were undecided which of these two + cities would be the port of discharge, and stipulated that the vessel was + to call at Pernambuco, Brazil, for orders. The New York agents marvelled + at this for—to them—very obvious reasons; but inasmuch as the + charterers had offered a whopping freight rate and declined to do business + on any other basis, and since further the agent concluded it was no part + of his office to question the motives of a house that never before had + been subjected to suspicion, he concluded to protect himself by leaving + the decision to the owners of the <i>Narcissus</i>. Accordingly he wired + them as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Blue Star Navigation Company, + </p> + <p> + “258 California St., San Francisco, Cal. + </p> + <p> + “Have offer <i>Narcissus</i>, coal Norfolk Batavia or Manila, charterers + undecided, Pernambuco for orders, ten dollars per ton. Shall we close? + Answer. + </p> + <h3> + “SEABORN” + </h3> + <p> + 2 boards, 1” x 8” and up, and too great a percentage of 4” x 6'-20' No. 1 + clear. And there were mighty few clear twenty-foot logs coming into the + boom these days. + </p> + <p> + “Well, will a cat eat liver?” declared Cappy Ricks. “I should say we do + accept. Why, man, she'll make forty thousand dollars on the voyage, and + whether she goes to Batavia or Manila, we're certain to get a cargo back.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, I'll wire acceptance,” Skinner replied, and paused long enough + to make a notation on the message: “O.K.—Ricks.” Mr. Skinner meant + nothing in particular by that. He was a model of efficiency, and that was + his little way of placing the responsibility for the decision in the event + that the wisdom of said decision should, at some future time, be + questioned. Mr. Skinner never took unnecessary chances. He always played a + safe game. + </p> + <p> + It is necessary to state here also that Matt Peasley was not in the office + when that telegram arrived from Seaborn & Company. If he had been this + story would never have been written. He was down at Hunter's Point + drydock, superintending the repairs to the steam schooner Amelia Ricks, + which recently on a voyage to Seattle had essayed the overland route via + Duxbury Reef. When Matt reached home that night he found his ingenious + father-in-law fairly purring with contentment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Matt, old horse,” Cappy piped, “I've chartered the Narcissus. + Norfolk to Batavia or Manila with coal. Got a glorious price—ten + dollars a ton. That's what we get for holding off until the last minute.” + </p> + <p> + “That's encouraging,” Matt answered pleasantly, and asked no further + questions. He was obsessed with the engines of the <i>Amelia Ricks</i>. It + was going to cost a lot of money to put them in condition again, and he + remarked as much to Cappy. Thus it happened that they entered into a + discussion of other matters, and the good ship <i>Narcissus</i>, having + finished discharging her cargo of nitrate, dropped down to Norfolk, where + Captain Michael J. Murphy proceeded to let a stream of coal into her at a + rate that promised to load her fully in less than four days. + </p> + <p> + It is worthy of remark, at this juncture, that Mike Murphy and Terence + Reardon had, by this time, cast aside all appearance of even shirt-sleeve + diplomacy. Diplomatic relations had, in fact, been completely severed. + Crossing the Gulf Stream, Murphy had called the engine-room on the + speaking-tube and politely queried if Mr. Reardon didn't think he could + get a few more revolutions out of her. To this Mr. Reardon had replied + passionately that if such a thing were possible he would have done it long + ago without waiting to be told. He desired to inform Captain Murphy that + he knew his business; whereupon Murphy had replied that he never would + have guessed Mr. Reardon was that intelligent, judging by the face of him. + In disgust Mr. Reardon had replied: “Aw, go to—” and then tried to + close the speaking-tube before the captain would have the opportunity to + retort. However, Michael J. knew his own mind, and, like all the Irish, + was a marvel at repartee. Quick as was Terence Reardon, therefore, Michael + J. Murphy was quicker. Perhaps all of his message had not been delivered + before Reardon closed the tube, but the chief got enough of it for all + practical purposes. + </p> + <p> + He caught one word—“Renegade”; a word so terrible that it left the + chief engineer speechless with fury, and before he could call the skipper + a baboon, the golden opportunity was gone. He closed the tube with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + While the <i>Narcissus</i> was loading, the Fates were keeping in reserve + for Cappy Ricks, Matt Peasley and Mr. Skinner a blow that was to stun them + when it fell. About the time the <i>Narcissus</i>, fully loaded, was + snoring out to sea past Old Point Comfort, Matt Peasley came across + Seaborn & Company's telegram in the unanswered-correspondence tray on + his desk. Five times he read it; and then, in the language of the poet, + hell began to pop! + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks came out of a gentle doze to find his big son-in-law waving + the telegram under his nose. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me?” Matt Peasley bawled, for all the world as if + Cappy was a very stupid mate and all the canvas had just been blown out of + the bolt-ropes. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you ask me, you big stiff?” shrilled Cappy. He didn't know + what was coming, but instinct told him it was awful, so he resolved + instantly to meet it with a brave front. “Don't you yell at me, young + feller. Now then, what do you want to find out?” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me the <i>Narcissus</i> was to drop in at Pernambuco + for orders?” roared Matt wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + Cappy pursed his lips and calmly rang for Mr. Skinner. He eyed the general + manager over the rims of his spectacles for fully thirty seconds. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, what the devil's wrong with you of late? It's getting so I can't + trust you to do anything any more. Tut, tut! Not a peep out of you, sir. + Now then, answer me: Why didn't you tell me, Skinner, that the <i>Narcissus</i> + was to call in at Pernambuco for orders?” + </p> + <p> + “I read you the telegram, sir,” Mr. Skinner replied coldly, and pointed to + the notation: “O.K.—Ricks,” the badge of his infernal efficiency. “I + read that telegram to you, sir,” he repeated, “and asked you if I should + close. You said to close. I closed. That's all I know about it. You and + Matt are in charge of the shipping and I decline to be dragged into any + disputes originating in your department. All I have to say is that if you + two can't run the shipping end and run it right, just turn it over to me + and I'll run it—right!” + </p> + <p> + Completely vindicated, Mr. Skinner struck a distinctly defiant attitude + and awaited the next move on the part of Cappy. The latter, thoroughly + crushed—for he knew the devilish Skinner never made any mistakes—looked + up at his son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he demanded, “what's your grouch against Pernambuco?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me for bawling you out that way,” Matt replied, “but I guess + you'd bawl, too, if somebody who should have known better had placed a + fine ship in jeopardy for you. It just breaks me all up to think you may + have lost my steamer <i>Narcissus</i>—the first steamer I ever owned + too—and to be lost on her second voyage under the Blue Star flag—” + </p> + <p> + “Our <i>Narcissus</i>, if you please,” Cappy shrilled. “You gibbering + jackdaw! Out with it! Where do you get that stuff—lose your steamer + on her second voyage! Why, she's snug in Norfolk this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “If she only is,” Matt almost wailed, “she'll never be permitted to clear + with that German crew aboard. Pernambuco for orders! Suffering sailor! And + you, of all men, to put over a charter like that! Pernambuco! Pernambuco! + Pernambuco—for—orders! Do you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't. It's over my head and into the bleachers.” + </p> + <p> + “I must say, my dear Matt,” Mr. Skinner struck in blandly, “that I also + fail to apprehend.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you two ever go to school?” Matt raved. “Didn't you ever study + geography? Why under the canopy should we waste our time and burn up our + good coal steaming to Pernambuco, Brazil, South America, for orders? Let + me put it to you two in words of one syllable: The <i>Narcissus</i> is + chartered to carry a cargo of coal from Norfolk, Virginia, to Batavia or + Manila. At the time of charter—and sailing—the charterers are + undecided which port she is to discharge at, so they ask us to step over + to Pernambuco and find out. Now, whether the vessel discharges at Batavia + or Manila, her course in the Atlantic Ocean while en route to either port + is identical! She passes round the Cape of Good Hope, which is at the + extreme south end of Africa. If her course, on the contrary, was round + Cape Horn or through the Straits of Magellan there might be some sense in + sending her over to the east coast of South America for orders. But + whether she is ordered to Manila or Batavia, the fact remains that she + must put in to Durban, South Africa, for fuel to continue her voyage; so + why in the name of the Flying Dutchman couldn't the charterers cable the + orders to Mike Murphy at Durban? The <i>Narcissus</i> is worth a thousand + dollars a day, so you waste a few thousand dollars worth of her time, at + the very least, sending her to Pernambuco when a ten-dollar cablegram to + Durban would have done the business! I suppose all you two brilliant + shipping men could see was a ten-dollar-a-ton freight rate. Eh? You—landlubbers! + A-a-g-r-r-h! I was never so angry since the day I was born.” + </p> + <p> + While Matt ranted on, Mr. Skinner's classic features had been slowly + taking on the general color tones of a ripe old Edam cheese, while at the + conclusion of Matt's oration Cappy Ricks' eyes were sticking out like twin + semaphores. He clasped his hands. + </p> + <p> + “By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!” he murmured in an awed voice. “There's a + nigger in the woodpile.” + </p> + <p> + “I very greatly fear,” Mr. Skinner chattered, “that you are mistaken, Mr. + Ricks. Something tells me it's a German!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well!” Matt Peasley sneered. “Skinner, take the head of the + class. Really, I believe I begin to pick up signs of human intelligence in + this sea of maritime ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Matt, quit your jawing and break the news to me quickly,” Cappy + pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you been reading the papers, sir? Australian and Japanese + warships have been hunting for the German Pacific fleet for the past few + weeks, and the Germans have been on the dodge. Therefore, they've been + burning coal. They are only allowed to remain in a neutral port + twenty-four hours, and can only take on sufficient coal and stores to + enable them to reach the nearest German port. Consequently, since they + have been afraid to enter a neutral port, for fear of giving away their + position, it follows that they've had to stay at sea—and naturally + they have run short of coal. A few steamers have cleared from San + Francisco with coal, ostensibly for discharge at Chilean or Mexican ports, + but in reality for delivery to the German fleet at sea, but even with + these few deliveries, there is a coal famine. And now that the Pacific is + getting too hot for it, the general impression is that the German fleet + will try to get through the Straits of Magellan, for, once in the + Atlantic, coal will be easier to get. More ships, you know; more + ship-owners willing to take a chance for wartime profits—and they + say Brazil is rather friendly to the German cause. We will assume, + therefore, that the German secret agents in this country realize it is + inevitable that Von Spee's fleet must be forced into the Atlantic; hence, + in anticipation of that extremity, they are arranging for the delivery of + coal to those harassed cruisers. The agent in Pernambuco is probably in + constant communication with the fleet by wireless; the fleet will probably + come ranging up the coast of South America, destroying British commerce, + or some of the ships may cross over to the Indian Ocean and join the <i>Emden</i>, + raiding in those waters. So the German secret agents charter our huge <i>Narcissus</i>, + load her with ten thousand tons of coal—” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley paused and bent a beetling glance, first at Cappy Ricks and + then at Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “Was she to carry soft coal or anthracite?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” Mr. Skinner quavered. + </p> + <p> + “Search me!” Cappy Ricks piped up sourly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. For the sake of argument we'll assume it's soft coal, + because anthracite has not as yet become popular as steamship fuel. Well, + we will assume our vessel gets to Pernambuco. If, in the meantime, the + German admiral wirelesses his Pernambuco agent, 'Send a jag of coal into + the Indian Ocean,' to the Indian Ocean goes the <i>Narcissus</i>, and + presently she finds a German warship or two or three ranging along in her + course. They pick her up, help themselves to her coal, give Mike Murphy a + certificate of confiscation for her cargo, to be handed to the owners, who + in this case will be good, loyal sons of the Fatherland and offer no + objection—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Cappy Ricks interrupted. “And if, on the other hand, the German + admiral says, 'Send a jag of coal to meet us in a certain latitude and + longitude off the River Plate,' and Mike Murphy objects, that German crew + on our <i>Narcissus</i> will just naturally lock Mike Murphy up in his + cabin and take the vessel away from him! When they're through with her + they'll give her back—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so certain they'll have to lock him up in his cabin in order to + get the ship,” Mr. Skinner struck in, a note of alarm in his voice. “Mike + Murphy is so pro-German—” + </p> + <p> + “Ow! Wow! That hurts,” Cappy wailed. “So he is! I never thought of that. + And now that you speak of it, I recall it was his idea, getting that crew + of Germans aboard! He said it would cut down expenses. Holy mackerel, + Matt; do you think it was a frameup?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do, but—Mike Murphy wasn't in on it. You can bank on + that. No piratical foreigner will ever climb up on Mike Murphy's deck + except over Mike Murphy's dead body. According to the president emeritus + there is more than one kind of Irish, but I'll guarantee Mike Murphy isn't + the double-crossing kind.” + </p> + <p> + A boy entered with a telegram. It was a day letter filed by Mike Murphy in + Norfolk that morning, and Matt Peasley read it aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Sailing at noon. Regret your failure take me into your confidence when + deciding withdraw vessel from neutral trade. If orders send me to either + of ports named in charter party and I am overhauled <i>en route</i>, that + is your funeral. If orders conflict with charter party, as I suspect they + may, that may be my funeral. Regretfully I shall resign at Pernambuco. You + know your own business, and I cannot believe you would go it blind; if you + change your mind before arrival Pernambuco, cable care American Consul and + will do my best for you. + </p> + <h3> + “M. J. M.” + </h3> + <p> + Gappy Ricks sprang into the air and tried to crack his aged ankles + together. + </p> + <p> + “Saved!” he croaked. “By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet! Saved! Bully for Mike + Murphy! Say, when that fellow gets back, if I don't do something handsome + for him—” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley's scowls had been replaced by smiles. + </p> + <p> + “God bless his old Mickedonian heart!” he said fervently. “He thinks the + coal is for that British fleet reported to be <i>en route</i> across the + Atlantic to give battle to the German Pacific fleet; or for Admiral + Craddock's Pacific fleet in case the Germans chase it back into the + Atlantic. He knows that we know he is pro-German and for anything that's + against England—and if he makes up his mind the coal is for the + British fleet he'll resign before delivering it! By Judas, this would be + funny if it wasn't so blamed serious.” + </p> + <p> + “To be forewarned is to be forearmed,” Mr. Skinner quoted sagely. “It is + most fortunate for us that Murphy's suspicions do us a grave injustice. We + know now that he will call on the American consul at Pernambuco and ask + for a cablegram.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and by thunder! we'll send it,” Cappy declared joyously. “Cable him, + Skinner, to fire that German crew so fast one might play checkers on their + coat tails as they go overside.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to heaven I could wireless him to put back to New York and ship a + new crew,” Matt Peasley mourned. “There's just a possibility that German + crew of his may take over the ship on the high seas and not put into + Pernambuco at all!” + </p> + <p> + “We can only wait and pray,” said Mr. Skinner piously. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks slid out to the edge of his chair and, pop-eyed with horror, + gazed at his son-in-law over the rims of his spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Matt,” he declared, “you're as cheerful as a funeral. Here we have this + thing all settled, and you have to go to work and rip the silver lining + out of our cloud of contentment. And the worst of it is, by golly, I think + there's something in that theory of yours after all.” + </p> + <p> + “We should always be prepared to meet the worst, Mr. Ricks,” Mr. Skinner + admonished the president emeritus. “While piracy as a practice practically + perished prior to the—” + </p> + <p> + “Skinner! In the fiend's name, spare us this alliteration and humbug,” + Cappy fairly shrieked. “You're driving me crazy. If it isn't platitude, + it's your dog-gone habit of initialing things!” He placed his old elbows + on his knees and bowed his head in his hands. “If I'm not the original Mr. + Tight Wad!” he lamented. “But you must forgive me, Matt. I got in the + habit of thinking of expense when I was young, and I've never gotten over + it. You know how a habit gets a grip on a man, don't you, Matt? Oh, if you + had only overruled me when I decided to save money by cutting out the + wireless on the <i>Narcissus!</i> I remember now you wanted it, and I + said: 'Well, what's the use? The <i>Narcissus</i> hasn't any passenger + license and she doesn't have to have wireless—so why do something we + don't have to do?' Skinner, you should have known enough—” + </p> + <p> + “I am managing the lumber end of the business, Mr. Ricks,” Skinner + retorted icily. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you're managing. You're my balance wheel. I've raised you + for that very purpose. I've been twenty-five years breaking you in to your + job of relieving me of my business worries—and you don't do it. No, + you don't, Skinner. Don't deny it, now. You don't. I pay you to boss me, + but do you do it? No, sir. You let me have my own way—when I'm round + you're afraid to say your soul's your own. You two boys know blamed well + I'm an old man and that an old man will make mistakes. It is your duty to + watch me. I pay the money, but I don't get the service. When Matt argued + with me about the wireless you sided in with me, Skinner. You've got that + infernal saving habit, too—drat you! Don't deny it, Skinner. I can + see by the look in your eye you're fixing to contradict me. You're as + miserable a miser as I am—afraid to spend five cents and play safe—you + penurious—er—er—fellow! Skinner, if you ever forget + yourself long enough to give three hoots in hell you'll want one of them + back. See now what your niggardly policy has done for us? At a time when + we'd hock our immortal souls for a wireless to talk to Mike Murphy and + tell him things, where are we?” Cappy snapped his fingers. “Up Salt Creek—without + a paddle!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” Matt said soothingly, “As Skinner says, we can only wait and + pray—” + </p> + <p> + “All right. You two do the praying. I'm going to sit here and cuss.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll hope for the best, Mr. Ricks. No more crying over spilled + milk now. I'll figure out when the <i>Narcissus</i> is due at Pernambuco + and cable Mike to let his crew go. And you know, sir, even if he should + not receive our cablegram, we have still one hope left. True, it is a + forlorn one, but it's worth a small bet. The crew of the <i>Narcissus</i> + is not all German. There are—” + </p> + <p> + “Two pro-German Irishmen, two disinterested Native Son Chinamen and a + little runt of a Cockney steward,” Cappy sneered. “And she carries a crew + of forty, all told. Matt, those odds are too long for any bet of mine. + Besides, Reardon and Murphy hate each other. A house divided against + itself, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “They might bang each other all over the main deck,” Matt replied + musingly, “but I'll bet they'll fight side by side for the ship. Of course + we haven't known Terence Reardon very long; he may be a bad one after all; + but Mike Murphy will go far. He's as cunning as a pet fox, and he may make + up in strategy what he lacks in numbers.” + </p> + <p> + “The Irish are so filled with blarney—” Skinner began, but Cappy cut + him short with a terrible look. + </p> + <p> + “There goes some more of our silver lining,” he rasped. “Skinner, what are + you? A kill-joy? Now, just for that, I'm going to agree with Matt. A man + has got to believe something in this world or go crazy, and I prefer to + believe that the ship is safe with those two Hibernians aboard—win, + lose or draw. And I want you two to quit picking on me; I don't want the + word '<i>Narcissus</i>' mentioned in my presence until the ship is + reported confiscated by the British, if her coal is for the Germans, or by + the Germans, if her coal is for the British—which it isn't—or + until Mike Murphy reports at Manila or Batavia and cables us for orders.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm with you there, sir,” Matt Peasley declared. “I'm going to bank on + the Irish, and refuse to believe it possible for the <i>Nar</i>—for + a certain vessel flying our house-flag to be caught by the wrong warship, + a couple of thousand miles off her course and with coal, or evidences of + coal, in her cargo space. Buck up, Skinner. A little Christian Science + here, boy. Just make up your mind no man in authority is going to come + over the rail of the—of a certain vessel—and ask Mike Murphy + or his successor <i>pro tem.</i>, for a look at his papers!” + </p> + <p> + “If she ever is confiscated on an illegal errand,” Skinner mourned, “and + Mike Murphy has nothing more tangible than a dime-novel tale of coercion + as an excuse for being in that latitude and longitude—well, we'll + never get our bully big ship back again!” + </p> + <p> + And for the first time in his life the efficient Mr. Skinner so far forgot + himself as to swear in the office! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Throughout the long, lazy days that the <i>Narcissus</i> rolled into the + South, Captain Michael J. Murphy's alert brain was busy every spare + moment, striving to discover, in the incomprehensible charter his owners + had made for him, what the French call <i>la raison d'etre.</i> Not having + any wireless, he was unable to keep in touch with the stirring events + being enacted in Europe and on the high seas, as news of the said events + filtered by him through space. While on the West Coast, where all the + newspapers are printed in Spanish, he had been equally barred from keeping + in touch with the war, although <i>en route</i> through the Panama Canal + he did his best to buy up all the old newspapers on the Zone. + </p> + <p> + Upon arrival in New York with his cargo of nitrate, his anxiety to make a + record in his first command in steam caused him to stay on the job every + moment the <i>Narcissus</i> was discharging, for Cappy Ricks had impressed + upon him, as he impressed upon every skipper in the Blue Star employ, the + fact that a slow boat is slow paying dividends. Consequently, the worthy + captain had had no time to acquaint himself with the movements of the + various fleets, and when he sent his day letter to his owners on the + morning of the day he sailed from Norfolk for Pernambuco, his action was + predicated, not on what he knew, but on what he felt. The sixth sense that + all real sailors possess warned him that his cargo of coal was not + destined for Batavia nor yet Manila, but for delivery at sea to the + warships of some foreign nation. Devoutly Michael J. hoped it wasn't for + the British fleet, since in such a contingency he would be cruelly torn + between his love and duty. Consequently he resolved that, should the + choice of alternatives be forced upon him, he would steer a middle course + and resign his command. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Mike Murphy knew Matt Peasley and Cappy Ricks to be + intensely pro-Ally in their sympathies, despite the President's + proclamation of neutrality and the polite requests of the motion-picture + houses for their audiences to remain perfectly quiet while Field-Marshal + von Hindenburg, Sir John French and General Joffre came on the screen and + bowed. Under the circumstances, therefore, Murphy found it very difficult + to suspect his owners of conspiring to deliver a cargo of coal to the + German fleet at sea. No, indeed! Matt Peasley and Cappy Ricks were too + intensely American for that; indeed, Cappy was always saying he hoped to + see an American mercantile marine established before he should be gathered + to the bosom of Abraham. + </p> + <p> + From whatever angle the doughty skipper viewed it, therefore, the tangle + became more and more incomprehensible. Cappy and Matt knew full well the + rules of the game as promulgated by their Uncle Samuel, and the dire + penalties for infraction. However, granted that they knew they could + scheme successfully to evade punishment at the hands of their own + government, Mike Murphy knew full well that no man could guarantee + immunity from the right of a belligerent warship to visit and search, or + from confiscation or months of demurrage in a prize court in the event + that his ship's papers and the course the vessel was travelling failed to + justify her presence in that particular longitude and latitude. And with + the huge profits to be made in neutral trade, it seemed incomprehensible + that a sound business man like Cappy Ricks should assume all these risks + for the sake of a little extra money. Surely he must realize that if he + sent her on an illegal errand her war-risk insurance would not hold. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it appeared to Murphy that the charter must have been + consummated with the full knowledge and consent of the Blue Star + Navigation Company, for the veriest tyro in the shipping business could + not have failed to be suspicious of that clause in the charter party, + stipulating a call at Pernambuco for orders. Of course there was the + possibility that this acquiescence had been due to misrepresentation on + the part of the New York agents or rank stupidity on the part of the Blue + Star Navigation Company. But Seaborn & Company were above a shady + deal. In putting through the charter for the Blue Star Navigation Company + it might have occurred to them that all was not as it should be, but that + was none of their business. If they spread their hand and permitted Cappy + Ricks an unobstructed view, it was up to Cappy to decide and order them to + close or reject the charter. As for stupidity on the part of the Blue Star + Navigation Company, Murphy knew full well that stupidity was the crime + Cappy Ricks found it hardest to forgive. Even had Cappy overlooked that + suspicious clause in the charter, because of his age, Matt Peasley's youth + and practical maritime knowledge should have offset Cappy's error; and + even if both had erred, there still remained the matchless Skinner, as + suspicious as a burglar, as keen as a razor, as infallible as a + chronometer. + </p> + <p> + No, it just didn't seem possible that the Blue Star Navigation Company had + gone into the deal with eyes wide open; on the contrary, it seemed equally + impossible that they had gone into it with their eyes shut. Consequently + Michael J. decided to wake them up—provided they slept on the job—and + to give them an opportunity to repent before it should be too late. + </p> + <p> + He felt very much better after sending that telegram, but as the <i>Narcissus</i> + ploughed steadily south at the rate of two hundred and thirty miles a day, + he began to grieve because he had no wireless to bring him a prompt reply; + he berated himself for not waiting at the dock in Norfolk until his owners + should have had an opportunity to answer; he abused himself for his + timidity in questioning the judgment of his owners, for indeed he had been + content to hint when more decisive action was demanded. + </p> + <p> + How Michael J. Murphy yearned to discuss his problem with some one as + loyal and devoted to the Blue Star Navigation Company as himself! His + dignity as master of the <i>Narcissus</i>, however, bade him refrain from + discussing the integrity of his owners with his mates—particularly + with new mates, to whom the house-flag stood for naught but a symbol of + monthly revenue. In fact, of the forty-one men under him, there was but + one with whom he could, with entire dignity, discuss the matter. That man + was Terence Reardon. But even here he was barred, for since he had called + the chief engineer a renegade, the only possible discussion that could + obtain between them now must be anything but academic; in consequence of + which Michael J. Murphy was forced to hug his apprehensions to himself + until the <i>Narcissus</i> steamed slowly into the outer harbor of + Pernambuco. Ten minutes after she dropped her big hook the skipper's + suspicions were crystallized into certainty. + </p> + <p> + Just as she came to anchor the steward appeared on deck, vociferously + beating his triangle to announce supper—for at sea dinner is always + supper. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Schultz,” the captain called from the bridge, “as soon as your men + have had their supper clear away the working boat. I'm going ashore.” + </p> + <p> + “Very vell, sir,” Mr. Schultz replied heartily, and the captain went below + to supper. He was scarcely seated before Mr. Schultz stuck his head in the + dining saloon window and announced that a gentleman who claimed to + represent the charterers was alongside in a launch and desired to come + aboard and speak with him. + </p> + <p> + “Let down the accommodation ladder, Mr. Schultz, and when the gentleman + comes aboard, show him round to my state-room,” the skipper answered. + “I'll meet him there in a pig's whisper. It is probable he has come aboard + with our orders, Mr. Schultz, so never mind clearing away the boat until I + speak to you further about it. Steward, set an extra cover at my right. We + may have a guest for supper.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried round to his state-room and donned a uniform coat to receive + his visitor. Mr. Schultz came presently, bearing a visiting-card upon + which was engraved the name: Mr. August Carl von Staden. Behind the mate a + sailor with a bulging suitcase stood at attention; two more sailors stood + behind the first, a steamer trunk between them, and as Captain Murphy + stepped out on deck to greet his visitor he observed a tall, athletic, + splendid-looking fellow coming leisurely toward him along the deck. The + stranger carried a large Gladstone bag. + </p> + <p> + The captain bowed. “I am the skipper of this big box,” he announced + pleasantly. “Murphy is my name.” + </p> + <p> + Herr von Staden shook hands and in most excellent English, without the + slightest trace of a German accent, expressed his pleasure in the meeting. + The captain cast a glance of frank curiosity at the bag von Staden carried + and at the baggage the sailors had in tow. Von Staden interpreted the + glance and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought you your orders, Captain Murphy. They are contained in + this envelope;” and he handed a blank envelope to the captain. “However, I + happened to know that one of the orders is to provide a berth for me. I'm + to go with you as supercargo.” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't heard anything about such a possibility,” Mike Murphy replied, + with just a shade of formality in his tones. He turned to the first mate: + “Mr. Schultz, will you be good enough to see to it that Mr. von Staden's + baggage is stowed in the owners' suite. Then tell the steward to see that + our guest's quarters are put in order. Mr. von Staden, will you kindly + step into my stateroom here while I read these orders?” + </p> + <p> + Von Staden nodded. Entering the captain's room he sat down on the settee + and lighted a gold-tipped cigarette, while Murphy tore open the envelope. + It contained a cablegram reading as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Von Staden & Ulrich,—Pernambuco, Brazil,—Ornillo + Montevideo. + </p> + <h3> + “BLUESTAR.” + </h3> + <p> + The captain reached for his telegraphic-code book. When decoded the + message read: + </p> + <p> + “Instruct captain to proceed to Montevideo and there await further orders. + </p> + <h3> + “BLUE STAR NAVIGATION COMPANY.” + </h3> + <p> + The cablegram had been filed at San Francisco two days before. Murphy + looked keenly at his guest, who smoked tranquilly and returned the look + without interest. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. von Staden,” the captain announced, “these are strange orders, in + view of the fact that I cleared from New York for Manila or Batavia, via + the Cape of Good Hope. It would be a sure sign of bad luck to the steamer + <i>Narcissus</i> if a British cruiser should pick her up off the coast of + Uruguay.” + </p> + <p> + Von Staden smiled. “You are very direct, captain—very blunt indeed. + This is a characteristic more Teutonic than Celtic, I believe, so I shall + experience no embarrassment in being equally frank with you. Your cargo of + coal is designed for our German Pacific fleet.” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed as much, sir. Nevertheless, my owners did not see fit to take + me into their confidence in this illegal undertaking, Mr. von Staden—” + </p> + <p> + “They did not think it necessary,” von Staden interrupted smilingly. “In + fact, Captain Peasley assured our people in New York that your sympathies + are so overwhelming in favor of our cause we need anticipate no worry as + to the course you would pursue. Moreover, in the event of a judicial + inquiry it would be an advantage if you could say that you had had no + voice in the matter, but had been instructed to obey the orders of the + charterers—of whom we are the agents in Pernambuco. Perhaps this + cablegram will allay your fears,” and he drew an unopened cablegram from + his pocket and handed it to Murphy. It was a code cablegram, signed by the + Blue Star Navigation Company and addressed to Murphy in care of von Staden + & Ulrich. When decoded it read: + </p> + <p> + “Execute the orders of supercargo if possible. It may lead to further + business. Charterers must take the risk. We do not think there is any + risk. Please remain.” + </p> + <p> + This cablegram was signed “Matt.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, captain?” von Staden queried politely. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like this business at all,” the captain replied. “My owners may + think there is no risk, but I'm afraid. England controls the seas—” + </p> + <p> + “We are in possession of the secret code of the British Navy, Captain + Murphy. We know the approximate location of every British warship in the + Atlantic and Pacific—and I assure you there is no risk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boss informs me the charterers assume the risk, so I suppose I + shouldn't worry over the Blue Star Navigation Company's end of the gamble. + They know their own business, I dare say. Evidently they feared I might + want to resign, so I have been asked to remain; and when Captain Peasley + says 'please' to me, Mr. von Staden, I find it very, very hard to refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad, for the sake of our selfish interests, my dear captain, to + find you so loyal to your owners' financial interests,” the supercargo + replied heartily. “Now that you have decided to remain, I need not point + out to you the danger of a resignation at this time. It might lead to some + unlooked-for developments which might prejudice your owners, although I + think they have covered their tracks very effectually. Nevertheless, it is + not well to take the slightest risk—” + </p> + <p> + “Without being well paid for it,” Murphy interrupted sneeringly. “My + owners have been well paid for their risk, but where do I come in? I + haven't been promised double my usual salary, or a split on the profits of + the voyage; and I know if I were to command a vessel loaded with munitions + of war I would not be asked to take her into the North Sea at the + customary skipper's wages. I'd be offered a large bonus.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, my dear captain, that your charterers assume all the risks. + One of them was the risk that you might resign unless you received + adequate compensation. I came aboard prepared to insure that risk,” and he + touched with his toe the Gladstone bag. “What do you say to $5,000?” + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy smiled. “It is pleasant, sir,” he said, “to be paid + $5,000 for doing something one yearns to do for nothing. I am not a hog. + Five thousand dollars is sufficient. How do I get it—and when?” + </p> + <p> + “In gold coin of the United States, or gold certificates of the same + interesting country, my dear captain, and you may have it immediately.” + Again Herr von Staden kicked the Gladstone bag. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it in gold certificates. And in order that my dear old father + and mother may have the benefit of my rascality in case anything + unforeseen should arise to prevent my return, I suggest you hand over the + boodle this minute, and I'll go ashore and express it home.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Murphy, you are a man after my own heart—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a born fool, sir,” Murphy interrupted. “I'm accepting this money + to be a fool, well knowing it is foolish to do it, for still I am taking a + risk. I am thirty-eight years old, Mr. von Staden, and a skipper as young + as that has his future all before him. Set him down on the beach, however, + with his ticket revoked for all time—and his future is behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “In that event,” the supercargo replied, “you might accept my assurance, + without questioning my authority for such assurance, that you would have + no difficulty in procuring a remunerative position ashore. The firm of von + Staden & Ulrich could use you very handily.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. Consider the matter settled. Will you come ashore with + me, sir, and dine, or would you prefer to have supper aboard?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you to be excused from going ashore, captain. I have much to do + to-night. The launch which brought me alongside has a knocked-down + wireless plant aboard, and I am anxious to have it set up on your good + ship <i>Narcissus</i>—a task I shall have to oversee personally. I + shall probably work all night.” + </p> + <p> + “Praise be!” Michael J. Murphy answered heartily. “We'll have some + interest in life now. We can get all the war news, going and coming, can't + we? Have you brought along an operator?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an operator,” the supercargo answered. “By the by, can you fix me up + with a wireless room?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two staterooms and a bath in the owners' suite which you will + occupy. You can take your choice.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. I shall want to sleep close to my instrument.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the bag, counted out five one-thousand-dollar gold certificates + of the United States of America and handed them to the captain. + </p> + <p> + “The grand old rag,” Michael J. murmured. “How many rascals fight under + the flag of old King Spondulics!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you have an Irish chief engineer,” von Staden continued. “While + I understand his sympathies are with us, still it seems only right to + compensate—” + </p> + <p> + “Suit yourself, Mr. von Staden.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man is he, captain?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd hate to tell you. I've had little to do with him, but that little was + enough. We avoid each other as much as possible and never speak except in + the line of duty. I make no bones of the fact that I think he's a scrub.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. von Staden nodded sagely. “Perhaps I'd better wait and get acquainted + with him,” he suggested, and closed his bag. Murphy showed him to his + quarters, which the steward, under the first mate's supervision, was + already setting in order; and, having decided to set up the wireless in + the sleeping-room, von Staden accompanied the skipper round to superintend + the taking on board of the wireless plant from the gasoline launch bobbing + alongside. When the equipment was finally hoisted to the deck of the <i>Narcissus</i>, + Michael J, Murphy boarded the launch and was whisked ashore for the avowed + purpose of sending to his aged parents the fruits of his elastic + conscience. + </p> + <p> + Herr August Carl von Staden stood at the head of the accommodation ladder + and smiled as the launch disappeared into the tropic twilight. Then he + said something in German to Mr. Schultz, who laughed. Evidently it was + very good news, for even the quartermaster at the companion ladder smiled + covertly. It is possible they would not have felt so cheerful had they + known that Michael J. Murphy's “dear old father and mother” had been + sleeping in a Boston cemetery some fifteen years, and that their last + words to Michael had been an exhortation to remember that manliness and + honor must be his only heritage. And as the launch bore him shoreward, he + looked back and grinned at the dim, duck-clad figure of von Staden. + </p> + <p> + “Your agents looked me up, my hearty,” he soliloquized, “and if they did + their work half well, they told you I was an honest man. Only a crook + comes with a bag of gold to talk illegitimate business with an honest man. + I'm banking you're as crooked as a bed spring, and that there's something + fishy about this enterprise. Cappy Ricks isn't fully informed, otherwise + he wouldn't be doing business with a crook!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Arrived ashore, Captain Murphy hurried to the cable office, registered his + cable address, borrowed a code book and sent a code telegram to his owner. + Then, having subsidized the operator liberally to rush it, Michael J. + Murphy set out for a stroll among the limited attractions of Pernambuco. + His cablegram would get through in two hours at the very most, and though + the captain figured the Blue Star offices would be closed when the message + reached San Francisco, still he was not discouraged. He knew the cable + company always telephoned to Mr. Skinner, at his home, all Blue Star and + Ricks Lumber & Logging messages arriving after office hours and before + midnight. Naturally Skinner could be depended upon to have a copy of the + code at home, and if he didn't Murphy knew he would rush down to the + office, no matter what the hour, and decode it there. Of course he would + cable his reply immediately, in which event it might be that the captain + would have an answer shortly after midnight or by breakfast at the latest. + </p> + <p> + He decided, therefore, to return to the cable office about midnight and + await the reply to his cablegram. He had proceeded but a few blocks from + the cable office, however, before a disturbing thought struck him with + such force as to bring him to an abrupt pause. + </p> + <p> + <i>His owners had cabled him in care of von Staden & Ulrich, when in + the telegram sent just before sailing from Norfolk he had instructed them + to cable him in care of the American consul.</i> Murphy's native + shrewdness had made him suspicious of von Staden the instant the latter + had so nonchalantly offered him a bribe of five thousand dollars, for the + proffer of a bribe of that magnitude, without any preliminary bargaining, + did not co-ordinate with Michael's idea of business. Certainly if the + charterers had his owners “fixed,” five thousand dollars was too much + money to give their captain, particularly since there were available any + number of capable rascals eager to do the job for twenty-five hundred, and + the devil take the consequences. + </p> + <p> + At the time von Staden had handed him the two cablegrams from the Blue + Star Navigation Company, no suspicion that they were forgeries had entered + the captain's mind; indeed, Matt Peasley's cablegram to him appeared at + first blush to be an answer to the telegram which Murphy had sent his + owners from Norfolk. In that telegram Murphy had mentioned his suspicions + and hinted at unwarranted risks and the possibility of the circumstances + attending the delivery of his cargo forcing his resignation. Matt's + cablegram handed him by von Staden urged him to remain in the ship and + assured him there were no risks; that if there were, the charterers + assumed them. For the nonce, therefore, the master's mind did not dwell on + any doubts as to the genuineness of the orders he had received, even + though he decided instantly as a precautionary measure to confirm them + before proceeding to carry them out. This, however, was merely because he + was suspicious of von Staden and desired to obviate the possibility of + that individual's double-crossing the Blue Star Navigation Company. + </p> + <p> + Under the circumstances, therefore, he had considered it good policy to + appear to fall readily in line, and, the better to disarm von Staden's + watchfulness, he had demanded extra compensation. The ease with which the + bribe had been secured having crystallized his suspicions, instantly he + had cast about in his ingenious brain for a good sound excuse for going + ashore and cabling his owners. To demand his bribe in advance and then + announce that he would go ashore and express it to those dependent upon + him, in case he failed to return and enjoy it himself, seemed to present a + reason that would not be questioned and accordingly he had done so. + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy removed his uniform cap and thoughtfully scratched his + head. “Now why,” he demanded of the scented night, “did Matt cable me in + care of that German firm when he must have known I would call on the + American consul in the expectation of finding a cablegram there?” He shook + his head. “They've got us winging, Michael,” he soliloquized, “so I + suppose the only thing to do is to play safe, call upon the American + consul immediately if not sooner, and ask if he has a cablegram for us.” + </p> + <p> + And without further ado the worthy fellow sprang into a cab and was + whirled away to the residence of the American consul. Yes, the consul had + a cablegram for him, but it was at his office. Could Captain Murphy not + wait until morning? + </p> + <p> + Most emphatically Captain Murphy could not. That cablegram was important; + it meant a great deal of money and possibly life or death— + </p> + <p> + Regretfully the consul entered the cab with the captain, drove to the + consulate and delivered the cable-gram to the eager mariner, who swore + when he discovered it was in cipher and not code, for this necessitated + immediate return to the <i>Narcissus</i> in order to obtain the key to the + cipher. He thanked the consul and sent the latter home in the cab, while + he hurried for the harbor front and the nearest boat landing. He was + filled with apprehension, for indeed there was something radically wrong + when his owners cabled him in the secret cipher of the Blue Star + Navigation Company—something the company had, doubtless, never found + occasion to do before. For while each vessel of the Blue Star fleet had a + copy of the A.L. code aboard, with the cipher key typewritten and pasted + on the second fly-leaf, not a single Blue Star skipper knew why it had + been pasted there or why the company should have gone to the trouble of + getting up any one of the hundreds of secret ciphers possible to be + developed from the A. L. Telegraphic Code. This was a secret that lay + locked in the breast of Mr. Skinner. It is probable, however, that it had + occurred to him in an idle moment that a secret cipher might come in handy + some day, and Mr. Skinner believed in being prepared for emergencies. + </p> + <p> + The captain bade the launch wait for him at the accommodation ladder, + while he hurried round to his state-room and promptly fell to work on Mr. + Skinner's cipher cablegram. When he had laboriously deciphered it this is + what he read: + </p> + <p> + “Unaccountably failed note suspicious clause charter. Something rotten. We + are playing square game. Think plot deliver coal German fleet South + Atlantic. Discharge your German crew immediately, first notifying + Brazilian authorities and American consul. Have help when you notify them + game is off, otherwise may take vessel away from you. They will stop at + nothing; fleet desperate for coal. Cable acknowledgment these orders; also + cable when orders fulfilled. Very anxious. 'BLUE STAR NAVIGATION + COMPANY.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ah-h-h!” breathed Michael J. Murphy softly, but very distinctly. “So + that's the game, eh?” His big square chin set viciously; subconsciously he + clenched his hard fist and shook it at his enemies. “The cunning Dutch + devils!” he murmured very audibly, and at that precise instant Herr August + Carl von Staden stood in the open doorway. He coughed, and Murphy glanced + up from the translation of the cipher message just in time to note a swift + shadow pass over the supercargo's face, a shadow composed of equal parts + of suspicion, embarrassment and desperation. + </p> + <p> + “You have returned very promptly, captain,” he remarked smoothly, and then + his restless glance fell on the cablegram and beside it the scratch pad + and the two parallel columns of words scrawled on it. A man of far less + intelligence than von Staden possessed would, have realized as quickly + that the first column was composed of cipher words, while the second + column was the translation. From this tell-tale evidence his suspicious + glance lifted to the skipper's face, and he read in Michael J. Murphy's + black eyes the wild rage which no Irishman could have concealed—which + the majority of his race would not even have taken the trouble to endeavor + to conceal. + </p> + <p> + In that glance each learned the other's secret; each realized that the + success of his plans depended on the silence of the other; each resolved + instantly to procure that silence at any cost. Von Staden reached for his + hip pocket, but before he could draw his automatic pistol and cover the + skipper, Michael J. Murphy had hurled ten pounds of code book into the + geometric centre of the supercargo's face. It was the first weapon his + hand closed over, and he did not disdain it. The instant it landed and von + Staden reeled before the blow, Murphy came out of his state-room with a + scuttering rush and von Staden fired as he came. The captain felt the + sting of the bullet as it creased the top of his left shoulder; then his + right fist came up in a blow that started at his hip and landed fairly + under the supercargo's heart. Von Staden grunted once, the pistol dropped + clattering to the deck and he folded up like an accordion. For him the + battle was over. + </p> + <p> + Not so, however, with Mike Murphy. Gone to the winds now was the caution + he would have exercised had the attack been delayed two seconds longer; + forgotten was the shrewd advice of his owners to have help standing by + when the ship cleaning should commence. Michael J. Murphy thought of + nothing but blood, for the fight had started now and he was loath to have + it cease. + </p> + <p> + “You bloody murderer!” he growled. “You'd kill me and steal my ship, would + you?” And with the reckless abandon of a sailor he planted the broad toe + of a number nine boot in Herr von Staden's short ribs, hoping to break a + few, for in the process of working his way up from the bottom Michael had + fought under deep-sea rules too often to be squeamish now. So he kicked + Herr von Staden again, after which a glimmer of reason penetrated his hot + head and he walked to pick up the supercargo's automatic pistol. Then + something landed on him from above and he went down backward. His head + struck the deck with a resounding thump, and Michael J. Murphy had a + through ticket to the Land of Nod and no stop-over privileges. + </p> + <p> + The something which had thus inopportunely dropped on Michael was Mr. + Henckel, the second mate. He had gone up on the bridge to see if the + canvas jacket had been dropped over the brightly polished brass + engine-room telegraph apparatus at each end of the bridge, in order to + protect it from the tropical dew. While thus engaged he had heard the shot + which von Staden fired at the captain, and forthwith had run across the + top of the house and peered over to discover what was happening on the + deck below. Discovering the captain in the act of kicking a distinguished + son of the Fatherland in that fragile section of the human anatomy + frequently referred to as the “slats,” the second mate had stood a moment, + immobile with horror, the while he gazed upon the fearful scene. Then the + captain walked to a spot on the deck directly beneath the position + occupied by his subordinate, and stooped to pick something up. + </p> + <p> + Even their enemies are proud of the dash and gallantry, the utter contempt + for consequences, which animate the German going into battle, and Mr. + Henckel, second mate of the S.S. <i>Narcissus</i>, was as fine a German as + one could find in a day's travel. The instant Michael J. Murphy stooped to + recover von Staden's automatic pistol, therefore, Mr. Henckel saw his duty + and, in the language of the elect, “he went an' done it”—the which + was absurdly simple. He merely leaped down off the house on top of the + captain, and forthwith deep peace and profound silence brooded over the + good ship <i>Narcissus</i>, of San Francisco. + </p> + <p> + It is worthy of remark here that Mr. Terence Reardon who, had he been + present, might have had something to say—not that his action would + indicate that he despised Mike Murphy the less, but that he loved his + owners more—was unfortunately down in the engine-room. Consequently + he failed to hear the shot, and when he came up on deck the victims of the + affray had been collected and taken thence, a seaman with a mop had + removed the profuse evidence which Mike Murphy's rich red blood had + furnished and Mr. Schultz, the first mate, was on the bridge, while Mr. + Henckel was up on the forecastle head with his gang, waiting for the order + to break out the anchor. + </p> + <p> + Presently a seaman came up on the bridge and reported that the light in + Mr. Reardon's state-room had been out fifteen minutes. So Mr. Schultz + waited an hour longer to make certain the chief engineer would be asleep; + whereupon commenced a harsh, discordant tune—the music of the anchor + chain paying in through the hawse pipe. When it ceased Mr. Schultz stepped + to the marine telegraph; a bell jingled in the bowels of the <i>Narcissus</i>; + an instant later all the lights aboard her went out as the first assistant + engineer threw off the switch, and silently in the heavy velvet gloom the + great vessel slipped out of Pernambuco harbor and headed south. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Just about the time the <i>Narcissus</i> was kicking ahead at nine knots, + in distant San Francisco the cable company was getting Mr. Skinner out of + bed to dictate to him over the telephone a message which had just arrived + from Pernambuco. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” murmured the incomparable Skinner as he donned a dressing gown and + slippers and descended to his library to decode the cablegram. “The luck + of the Blue Star flag still holds. That belligerent and highly intelligent + fellow Murphy has received our cablegram, sent him in care of the American + consul, and in accordance with my instructions he is acknowledging its + receipt. Hum-m-m! The first word is 'oriana.' Let me turn to 'oriana.' + Hum-m! 'I have an order presumably emanating from blank.' Ah, yes, the + next word is 'Buestar,' the cable address of the Blue Star Navigation + Company. Well, well, well, the foxy fellow! After wiring us to cable him, + he gets our cable and then cables us to confirm it! Caution is a virtue, + but this brand is too high-priced. The next word is 'osculo'.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner turned to “osculo” and discovered that it meant “I am ordered + to—” The next word in the cablegram was “Montevideo.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” Mr. Skinner gasped. “He has received orders, presumably + emanating from us, ordering him to Montevideo! Can it be possible that Mr. + Ricks or Matt Peasley has sent him a cablegram without my knowledge? I + must read further.” + </p> + <p> + He did, and having done so he discovered that, in addition to being + ordered to Montevideo, Mike Murphy wanted to know if it was all right and + if von Staden and Ulrich—presumably German—were to be trusted; + that he would remain in command at the company's request, although he + considered such request unreasonable, even if it could be granted without + risk. Also, he wanted these instructions confirmed and was anxiously + awaiting an answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm certain of one thing,” Mr. Skinner soliloquized after reading + this extraordinary message: “Murphy has not been to the American consul's + office for the cablegram I sent him several days ago. Evidently there is + mischief afoot. However, there is nothing to be gained by cabling him + again in care of the American consul, so I'll just assume that he has + registered his cable address with the cable company; hence, if I cable him + to his cable address the message will be delivered to him aboard the <i>Narcissus</i>. + And since he says he is anxiously awaiting an answer, I'll relieve his + anxiety with all possible speed and send him an answer immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Mr. Skinner wasted several dollars cabling Mike Murphy that the + Blue Star Navigation had not, to his knowledge, cabled him any + instructions save those sent in care of the American consul; that von + Staden and Ulrich were unknown to him, and to be very careful not to lose + the ship. This message Mr. Skinner dictated over the telephone to the + telegraph office and asked them to rush it. Evidently they did so, for + just as Cappy Ricks arrived in the office the following morning, word was + received from the telegraph company that owing to the departure of the <i>Narcissus</i> + from Pernambuco the night before, the Blue Star Navigation Company's + cablegram had not been delivered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Skinner,” Cappy chirped as he sat in at his desk and lighted a + cigar, “what's the news around the shop this fine morning? Any word from + Murphy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and no,” Mr. Skinner replied, and laid his information before + Cappy for perusal. Cappy read it all twice, then slid out to the edge of + his chair, placed his hands on his knees and looked at Mr. Skinner over + the rims of his spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he said solemnly, “this is certainly hell! Cable + the American consul in Pernambuco and ask him if Murphy received the + cablegram we sent in care of the consulate. And, in the meantime, don't + whisper a word of this disquieting information to Matt Peasley. Time + enough to cross a bridge, Skinner, when you come to it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner promptly filed a cablegram to the American consul, and just + before the office closed they got about forty dollars' worth of reply, + informing them that Captain Murphy had appeared at the consulate greatly + excited the night previous; that he had declared the cablegram awaiting + him might mean life or death—certainly a large sum of money; that he + had been given the cablegram and had gone aboard ship to look up his + cipher key. He had not returned and the ship was not in the harbor. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see the carbon copy of the cablegram you sent Murphy in care of + the American consul,” Cappy demanded. Mr. Skinner with a sinking heart + obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” said Cappy, “do I understand you sent this message in cipher, + which necessitated on the part of our captain a trip back to his ship + before he could decipher it? Why didn't you send him the message in + regular code? He would then have decoded it right in the consulate, or at + best he could have gone to the cable office and borrowed a code book from + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I sent it in our secret cipher,” Mr. Skinner faltered. “It was delicate + business—quite—er—an international complication, as it + were, and in the event of unpleasant developments—Well, how did I + know but that some German might be on the key at the cable office when the + message arrived there for Murphy—” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Skinner, my boy, quite right,” Cappy interrupted sadly. “The + only trouble with you, Skinner, is that you're too danged efficient. You + look so far into the future you're always gumming up the present.” He + sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you think—” Skinner began, but Cappy silenced him with + an autocratic finger. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think, Skinner, I know. Had it not been for your damnable cipher + message, Murphy would have got your warning ashore instead of being forced + to go back to the ship for it. Having got it ashore he would have taken + care to warn the Brazilian authorities and they would have been on watch + and prevented the ship from leaving. As I view the situation, Mike went + aboard, deciphered your message and got ripping mad. Von Staden and Ulrich + were probably aboard, and hot-headed Mike probably undertook to throw them + overboard single-handed—and failed. His body is doubtless feeding + the fishes in Pernambuco harbor this minute, and our lovely—big—<i>Narcissus</i>—the + pride of—the Blue Star fleet—” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell Captain Peasley?” Mr. Skinner faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, tell him. He's bound to find out sooner or later. Skinner, I could + stand the loss of the ship, but what breaks me all up is the thought that + after forty years of honorable business my friends and my enemies might + suspect me of being a filibuster. I, Alden P. Ricks, whose + great-grandfather died at Yorktown, whose grandfather was killed at + Lundy's Lane, whose father won a medal of honor at Chapultepec—I, + Alden P. Ricks, who had to belong to the Home Guard because I was such a + little runt they wouldn't take me in the Civil War—to think that I + should attain to seventy years and even be suspected of staining the flag + of my country for the sake of a few dirty dollars—after all the + Ricks blood that has been shed for that flag! Horrible!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner turned away for, man and boy, he had spent twenty-five years + under Cappy Ricks, and he loved him. He could not bear to see the old man + suffer. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + When Michael J. Murphy returned to consciousness he found himself in his + berth, although for all the effort he made to verify this fact it might + have been Mr. Reardon's. For fully half an hour he lay there, gradually + straightening out the tangle in his intellect, and presently he was aware + that the back of his head was very sore and ached, so he put up his hand + to rub it and found a lump as large as a walnut. His right shoulder was + numb and he was unable to move it, although this would not have surprised + him had he been aware that a hundred and eighty pounds of Teutonic + masculinity had landed on that shoulder with both feet and dislocated it. + As it was, the skipper wondered vaguely if the ship's funnel had fallen + over on him. His right side ached externally, and when he sighed it ached + internally. That was a broken rib tickling his lung, for, while he was in + blissful ignorance of the reason therefor, the chronicler of this tale can + serve no good purpose by concealing the true facts in the case. + Immediately upon regaining consciousness, Herr August Carl von Staden had + insisted upon returning Michael J. Murphy's kicks with compound interest. + </p> + <p> + “Holy mackerel!” the skipper murmured. “I feel like I've been fed into a + concrete mixer. The only injury I can account for is my left shoulder, + where that supercargo shot me.” + </p> + <p> + After spending another half hour in mild speculation on these phenomena he + was aware of an added impediment in breathing, so he put his hand up to + his nose and found it clogged with blood. His luxuriant black mustache + prevented an extended examination of his upper lip, but nevertheless, + something told him it was split. A hard foreign substance lying between + his right cheek and the inferior maxillary he concluded must be the pit of + an olive left over from dinner. Subsequently, however, he discovered it + was one of his own teeth. So he swore a mighty oath and felt considerably + better. + </p> + <p> + “This is certainly mutiny on the high seas and punishable by hanging,” he + soliloquized. “I wonder if Cappy Ricks would know me now;” and he reached + up to turn the switch of the electric light over his berth. He turned the + switch, but the light did not come on, and while he lay considering this + state of affairs, he was aware that something that was not his head was + throbbing in the ship. He decided presently that it was her engines. From + the steady rhythmic pulsations he realized the vessel was being driven + full speed ahead; and since he could not recall having given any orders to + that effect, he was not long in arriving at the correct answer to the + riddle—whereupon Michael J. Murphy did what every shipmaster does + when he loses the ship he loves and finds himself ravished of his + reputation as a sane and careful skipper. He wept! + </p> + <p> + Those who know the breed will bid you beware the Irish when they weep from + any cause save grief or sympathy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks, who claimed to know Mike Murphy's kind of Irish, doubtless + would have been extremely gratified had he been granted a peep at the + battered, bleeding, weeping wreck of his faithful Michael as the pride of + the Blue Star fleet rolled south to meet the grey sea rovers of the + Fatherland and deliver the cargo of coal that meant so much to them. The + sight might have aroused some hope in Cappy's heavy heart, he being by + nature inconsistent and always seeing a profit where others found naught + but a deficit. However, though Cappy was variously gifted he was not a + clairvoyant, in consequence of which he spent a very sleepless night + following the receipt of that windy cablegram from the American consul. He + dined at his club, and when it was time for him to leave and his daughter + sent her car for him, he lacked the courage to go home and face his + son-in-law. So he spent the night at the club and came down to the office + about noon, hoping Matt Peasley would have recovered from the shock by + that time. The latter was waiting for him, and came into Cappy's sanctum + immediately to hold a post-mortem. + </p> + <p> + “Matthew, my dear boy,” said Cappy miserably, “this is terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we should take the matter up immediately with the State + Department,” Matt replied. “There may be a United States warship in those + waters, and she could be instructed by wireless to endeavor to intercept + the <i>Narcissus.</i> We can prove a clean bill of health with those + cablegrams, and get back our ship.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—from our own Government, of course. But, oh, Matt, if old + Johnny Bull ever gets his horns into her we can kiss her good-bye. We + can't bring forward any evidence to alibi that German crew on a ship so + far off her course and loaded with contraband.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know if I were skippering a British warship and picked up the <i>Narcissus,</i> + her owners would find I was born and bred in Missouri,” the honest Matt + admitted. “By the way, have you read this morning's papers?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Matt. I've felt too blamed miserable about this <i>Narcissus</i> + affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the <i>Scharnhorst</i>, the <i>Gneisenau</i>, the <i>Leipzig,</i>, + the <i>Dresden</i> and the <i>Nurnberg</i> met a British fleet under + Admiral Craddock, away down off Coronel, Chile. The British were cleaned + for fair.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “I do tell you. And I'll bet my immortal soul that German fleet is heading + for the entrance to Magellan this minute. If I were a religious man I'd be + praying for clear weather so they'll find the entrance without any + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope they run ashore and drown every man Jack!” cried Cappy fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “I do not. You will note that our charterers tried to induce Mike to go to + Montevideo for orders. That was because they expected to lie snug at + Montevideo and be within striking distance of a designated meeting place + in the South Atlantic when the German fleet should pass through Magellan + from the Pacific. Remember that for several weeks the German fleet has + managed to lose itself in the Pacific, but now that the British fleet has + stumbled onto it and forced an engagement, the Australian and Japanese + cruisers will all be headed for the south coast of Chile to make reprisal. + We know the Germans are short of coal; doubtless some of the fleet have + suffered in the engagement with Admiral Craddock's ships, so it's a safe + bet they'll run into the Atlantic now and raid the Falkland Islands—by + the way, a British possession. They will hope to find coal and stores + there, which, with the cargo of the <i>Narcissus,</i> will enable them to + continue raiding. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they will try to accomplish this before England sends a fleet + to avenge Craddock—and I'm hoping the Germans will succeed, for, if + they do, they will surely be decent enough to run our <i>Narcissus</i> + into some South American port and give us an opportunity to get her back + again. On the other hand, if the Germans delay their departure from the + Pacific, the British will surely get wind of the <i>Narcissus</i> waiting + at Montevideo; and when she comes out they'll just naturally grab her.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're right,” Cappy replied gloomily; “so for the present we're + pro-German. Still, I find that a hard dose to swallow, in view of the fact + that our German crew in the <i>Narcissus</i> has evidently taken the + vessel away from Mike Murphy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure they have done just that, sir; otherwise Mike would have obeyed + our orders. We know he received the orders; hence the only reason he did + not carry them out was because he wasn't permitted to do so. My only hope + is that they haven't killed him, for if he is alive and free, he and + Reardon, with the assistance of the cockney steward and the two Chinese + cooks, might—” + </p> + <p> + “Might what?” + </p> + <p> + “Might steal her back again.” + </p> + <p> + “Matt! It isn't possible, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet Mike Murphy and I could steal her back if we had half a chance. + The odds would be forty to two against our succeeding, but a little + strategy is sometimes to be preferred to great horsepower. I think I could + do it, and I think Murphy will do it—if he only thinks of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How? Tell me how you'd steal her back.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the use?” Matt replied wearily. “I'd have to have help. So will + Mike—and I've just remembered Mike Murphy and Terence Reardon are + the wrong kind of Irish to have together in the same ship. We did our best + to prevent it, but the odds are too long for us; the coal is for the + Germans and we hate England, so why worry? I know Mike Murphy will not + take that view of it; for my sake he'll fight to the last gasp, but he + must have help, and Reardon owes me no such allegiance as Murphy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he owes me something,” Cappy spoke up. “You promised him a hundred + and seventy-five dollars a month and I raised the ante to two hundred. It + was an investment, pure and simple. I was buying loyalty, and by the Holy + Pink-Toed Prophet, I think I'll get it. Come to think of it, there was a + look in Reardon's eyes that I liked, when he took my hand in those greasy + paws of his and said he was a proud man to work for me. Matt, that fellow + is full of bellicose veins. He may not fight for me, but he'll fight for + Mrs. Reardon and the children and that two-hundred-dollar-a-month job, for + it's the first he's ever had and if he loses out it'll be the last he'll + ever get. He was telling me all about his family and how much the job + meant to him, that day we had the <i>Narcissus</i> out on her trial trip.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley's face brightened. “By Jupiter, that puts a different face on + the situation. If Reardon is alive they might get together for mutual + protection.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Cappy piped up, greatly relieved to discover Matt was facing the + tragedy so optimistically, “we might do worse than hope. Wire the State + Department, Matt; and in the meanwhile, cheer up, sonny, and trust in the + luck of Alden P. Ricks. I remember Captain Noah Kendall—peace to his + ashes—used to say to me: 'Mr. Ricks, if you ever fell into Channel + Creek at low tide you'd come up with a pearl necklace wrapped round your + ankle, and you'd be smelling like a spray of lemon verbena.' Cheer up, + Matt! What though the cause be lost, the <i>Narcissus</i> is not lost—yet. + The Celtic troops remain, and from now on my war cry is going to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Ireland uber Alles,” Matt Peasley suggested. + </p> + <p> + “You're blamed whistlin'!” said Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Skinner was called into consultation, and he and Matt Peasley and + Cappy drew up a heart-rending telegram to the Secretary of State, who + consulted with the Secretary of the Navy, who wired the Blue Star + Navigation Company that he was sorry but he didn't have as much as a + rowboat in the South Atlantic to save their steamer <i>Narcissus,</i> and + would they please keep still about it, since a noise like that, unless + absolutely based on facts—and he understood their wail to be based + on suspicion—would tend to create additional friction in an + international complication already strained to the breaking point. + Whereupon Cappy Ricks flew into a rage and immediately dictated a long + letter to his congressman and his senator, urging them to battle to the + last trench in the campaign for a two-power navy. + </p> + <p> + Time passed. Then suddenly the world rocked with the news of the + annihilation of the German Pacific fleet off the Falkland Islands. Cappy + Ricks and Matt Peasley read the horrid tale in the morning papers as they + sat at breakfast, and immediately both lost all interest in food. Like two + mourners about to set out for the morgue to identify the corpse of a loved + one recently killed by a taxicab, they drove down to the Blue Star + offices, where immediately upon arrival something terrible in Mr. + Skinner's face brought on palpitation of Cappy Ricks' heart. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he chattered, “Have you any news?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, sir,” murmured Mr. Skinner brokenly, “but soon! The British + consul wants you to ring him up. He says he's had a wireless from H.M.S. + <i>Panther,</i> off the Falkland Islands, and he thinks it will be of + interest to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is my <i>Narcissus</i> confiscated?” Cappy and Matt cried in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know,” Skinner faltered. “I just didn't have the courage + to pursue the matter further. The British consul said she was captured but + as for con—” + </p> + <p> + “Idiot! Bonehead!” rasped Cappy. “My <i>Narcissus</i> is gone—gone! + Oh, Lord! Matt, you ring up the British consul—I'm an old man—Skinner, + my dear chap, forgive my harsh language. Have you a little drop of whisky + in the office?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Capt. Michael J. Murphy's futile tears of rage having dried almost as + quickly as they came, he crawled painfully out of his berth and lighted a + match, to discover he was a prisoner in his own state-room. He turned + another electric switch, but still the room remained in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Sneaking out of Pernambuco with the lights doused,” he soliloquized. Then + he remembered a little stump of candle he kept in his desk for use when + heating sealing wax, so he lighted the candle and by its meager rays took + inventory of his features in the little mirror over his washstand. + </p> + <p> + “By the Toe Nails of Moses,” he soliloquized, “somebody's sea-boots did + that, and if I ever find out who was wearing them at the time there'll be + a fight or a footrace. I'm a total wreck and no insurance—yes, thank + God! here's the ship's medicine chest.” + </p> + <p> + Having spent the greater portion of an adventurous career far from medical + aid in time of bodily stress, Michael J. was, as most shipmasters are, + rather adept in rough-and-tumble surgery. His compact little library + contained a common-sense treatise on the care of burns, scalds, cuts, + fractures and the few minor physical diseases that sailors are heir to, + and in accordance with immemorial custom he, as master of the ship, was + the custodian of the medicine chest. So he washed the gore from his face, + disinfected his split lip and patched himself up after a fashion. The + bullet wound in his left shoulder proved to be a flesh wound, high up, so + he cleaned that and decided his left wing would be in fair fighting order + within a few days. Then he undressed and said his prayers, with a special + invocation for help from his patron saint, holy Saint Michael, the + archangel. Evidently Saint Michael inclined a friendly ear, for it is a + curious fact that no sooner had his namesake risen from his marrow bones + than a curious sense of peace and comfort stole over him. As in a vision + he saw Herr August Carl von Staden standing on the bridge, bound at ankle, + knee and hand and with a rope round his neck. From the supercargo's neck + the rope led aloft through a small snatch-block fastened to the end of a + cargo derrick and thence to the drum of the forward winch—a device + which had been known to hoist with a jerk objects several tons heavier + than Herr August Carl von Staden! This picture thus conjured in Murphy's + imagination was so real he was almost tempted to recite the litany for the + dying! + </p> + <p> + “'Twould have been better for them had they killed me dead and hove my + carcass overboard,” he decided. “The fact that they didn't, but took the + trouble to carry me to my own bed and lock me in, is proof that they'll + not murder me now—so I'll not worry. I'll have every beer-drinking, + sausage-making son of a seacook begging me for mercy before the week is + out. I'll just lie low and rest up a bit, and by the time we're off Rio + I'll drop on them like a top-mast in a typhoon. Then with the help of the + two Chinamen, the steward and Reardon 'twill not be hard to run her into + Rio. I wonder if that pirate frisked me of my five thousand.” He searched + through his clothing and was amazed to discover that the bills were still + in his possession. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give them back in the morning,” he concluded. “I had a pistol in the + drawer of my desk and a rifle in that locker;” and in the wild hope that + his luck still held, he searched eagerly for both. They were gone. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Michael J. Murphy smiled as he wrapped a wet towel round his + throbbing head, for he had already decided upon his plan of campaign for + regaining command of his ship, a <i>coup</i> for which he required no + weapon more formidable than his native intelligence. As he sank groaning + into the arms of Morpheus, however, even a Digger Indian would have + realized that for the next two weeks the master of the <i>Narcissus</i> + would be unable to defend himself against an old lady armed with a + slipper. Nevertheless, the indomitable fellow, with the amazing optimism + of his race, had already decided to attack and subdue, within four days, + thirty-six husky male enemies; which lends some color to the oft-repeated + declaration that an Irishman fights best when he is on his back with his + opponent feeling for his windpipe. + </p> + <p> + When Michael J. Murphy awoke it was broad daylight and Herr August Carl + von Staden was standing over him. The supercargo was clad in an immaculate + suit of white flannels and was looking as fresh as new paint. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be possible?” Murphy queried in amazement. “Upon my word, friend + pirate, I had flattered myself I'd tucked you away for a couple of days at + least.” + </p> + <p> + “The excellent Mr. Henckel tells me I was out for ten minutes from that + solar-plexus blow you landed,” Mr. von Staden replied in tones of mingled + admiration and friendliness. “And of course you cannot see how sore my + ribs feel. I take it rather ill of you to have kicked me.” + </p> + <p> + “Kicked you! I wish I'd killed you! And, speaking of kicks, somebody + certainly kicked me. Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon recovering consciousness,” the supercargo replied with some + embarrassment, “I was overcome with fury. You were lying on the floor of + your stateroom, where Mr. Schultz and Mr. Henckel had hurriedly tossed you—so + I came in and kicked you.” + </p> + <p> + “I never kicked you in the face,” Murphy complained. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you flattened my nose with your code book.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll admit a good smack on the nose does make a man mad. But you + shot me in the shoulder. By the way, do your lungs hurt when you breathe, + Dutchy?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Do yours?” + </p> + <p> + “A slight tickle. I think you caved in my super-structure. Who jumped on + me from the top of the house?” + </p> + <p> + “The second mate.” + </p> + <p> + “He dislocated my shoulder. I can wiggle my fingers, so I know it isn't a + fracture. Suppose you take off your shoe, sit at the foot of my bed, put + your foot under my right armpit and press, and at the same time pull on my + right arm.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, I'm sure,” declared Herr von Staden in his charming Oxford + accent, and forthwith snapped Michael J. Murphy's shoulder into place with + great dexterity. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” the skipper answered, and wiped the beads of agony from his + white face. “If you'll frisk my trousers over there on the settee you'll + find the five thousand dollars you gave me to sell out my owners. I don't + want it. I never intended to keep it. I was suspicious of you and your + confounded cablegrams, and I had to have a reasonable excuse to go ashore + and cable my owners for confirmation. The bribe furnished that excuse. I + suppose you thought I'd fallen for your game.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess your attitude completely deceived me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for the compliment. And now, if you don't mind, suppose you tell + me something: Was it a German agent who put the bug in my ear about hiring + the crew of that interned German liner in San Francisco?” + </p> + <p> + “I greatly fear it was,” von Staden answered smilingly. “There is an old + man who presides over the destinies of the Blue Star Navigation Company—” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Cappy Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that is the name. He has a reputation for being at once the + most reckless spendthrift and the most painstaking money saver in the + world. He is always preaching economy—” + </p> + <p> + “And well I know it. If he hadn't preached it, Captain Peasley would never + have stood for this rabble your friends wished on me.” + </p> + <p> + The supercargo chuckled. “We wanted the largest vessel we could find,” he + explained; “and when it was reported to us that the Blue Star Navigation + Company's <i>Narcissus</i> was going from San Francisco to the West Coast + and thence to New York with nitrate, we decided to get her. We + investigated you. Your name is Michael J. Murphy; naturally we knew you + were Irish; and the Irish—your kind of Irish—are not + sympathetic toward the cause of Merry England. The same held true of your + chief engineer, Mr. Reardon. We knew of the passion of this interesting + person, Cappy Ricks, for cutting down expenses. We knew you and Reardon + were new to your jobs and would be likely to consider any reasonable plan + for eliminating expense in your respective departments, in the hope of + pleasing your employer. So the suggestion that you ship our people was + made to you and Reardon, and you accepted it with alacrity. The rest was + very easy. We got in touch with your New York agents through some friends + of ours in very good standing there, and they were enabled to charter the + ship merely by offering an extraordinary freight rate. They purchased the + cargo of coal and sold it to us at a nice profit, and we depended on your + national animosity and racial sympathy, seasoned with a liberal cash + subsidy, to enable us to deliver it. We preferred to do the decent thing, + but in the event that you proved unreasonable, we concluded it would be + wise to have our own people aboard and take the vessel away from you. I + admit we tried to trick you with the cablegrams. Why attempt to conceal + the fact now? That was unsportsmanlike. However, if the fat is in the + fire, as you Americans would say, you have put it there by forcing my + hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Very cleverly done,” quoth Michael J. Murphy. “I always admire brains + wherever I find them.” + </p> + <p> + “Men in my line of endeavor are trained to provide for all conceivable + emergencies, captain. I think I provided for all of them in the case under + discussion. Who, for instance, would conceive that you would have taken + the trouble to call upon the American consul for the cipher message that + has caused all this unpleasant row and facial disfigurement?” + </p> + <p> + “You have read the translation, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “It is self-explanatory. You intend delivering my cargo somewhere off the + south coast of Uruguay. May I be pardoned for expressing some curiosity as + to your plans thereafter, my piratical friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Please do not call me your piratical friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're a pirate, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Legally—yes. Morally—no. In times of national necessity one's + patriotism—one's duty to one's country—excuses, in the minds + of all fair men, the commission of acts which ordinarily would bring about + the deepest condemnation. I assure you that if we had had the faintest + hope of doing business in a businesslike way with your owners, we should + have been happy to pay almost any price for their ship, for she carries + ten thousand tons of coal; and you surely must realize, Captain Murphy, + how limited is the number of ships suitable for our purpose under the + American flag. We were desperate—” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Bethmann-Hollweg said something of the same nature with regard + to Belgium,” Murphy replied blandly. “A nation fighting for its life is a + law unto itself, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Self-preservation is the first law of human nature,” the supercargo + replied. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Then we understand each other. While I decline to terminate + the war between August Carl von Staden and Michael Joseph Murphy, + nevertheless under the law you have just cited I believe I'm entitled to + breakfast. I'm starved. I figured on having supper ashore last night, but + after I received that cablegram from my owners I forgot all about food. + Now I'm remembering. I wish you'd send the steward in with about forty + dollars' worth of spoon victuals. My grinders are very loose.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Murphy,” his jailer declared, “do you know you are a very + wonderful man?” + </p> + <p> + “All the Murphys are. It runs in the blood, like a wooden leg.” + </p> + <p> + “I really regret that you are such a wonderful man. If you were not I'd + give you the liberty of the ship. As it is, I crave your pardon for + keeping you a prisoner in your state-room. The exigencies of war, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't mention it, Dutchy. For the second time I ask you: When you have + delivered this cargo of coal, what do you intend to do with my ship?” + </p> + <p> + “We will, in all probability, give you a new crew, and the present crew of + the <i>Narcissus</i> will go aboard one of our warships and thus remove + themselves from the reach of a possible indictment for piracy and mutiny + on the high seas.” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you get a new crew for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Our fleet has sunk a few British tramps in mid-ocean during the past + sixty days. Naturally they removed the crews first. These prisoners are in + our way, and the admiral will welcome an opportunity to load them all + aboard the empty <i>Narcissus</i>, for even prisoners of war must eat, and + the stores aboard our fleet are more valuable than these captured seamen. + In obedience to that first law of human nature they will not object to + working the <i>Narcissus</i> into the nearest South American port.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's comforting; but for heaven's sake don't be too much of a hog + with my cargo. Leave me enough of it to carry my ship to the nearest port. + She burns about thirty-five tons a day—you might get the statistics + from Reardon.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means, captain. Our capture of the <i>Narcissus</i> is merely a + deplorable national necessity. We would not lose her for you for + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “How about a British cruiser picking her up before we make connections + with your fleet?” + </p> + <p> + Herr von Staden shrugged. “That,” he replied, “would be the fortune of + war.” + </p> + <p> + “It would look like the picture of misfortune to me. And how about the + freight on this cargo you've stolen? Don't my owners get something out of + this deal to help pay expenses? You're going to play as fair as you can + with me, aren't you, Dutchy?” + </p> + <p> + “By all means. However, you are evidently in doubt as to the real + situation. Your charterers are responsible to your owners for the freight + money. If they do not pay it Mr. Cappy Ricks can sue them. As for the + cargo, we have not stolen it, since one cannot steal that which one owns. + We paid cash for this cargo before you cleared from Norfolk, for our + go-between would take no risks whatsoever.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Well, I suppose I'll have to grin and bear it. By the way, don't + forget to take back your blood money. It's in my trousers pocket.” + </p> + <p> + Von Staden was genuinely distressed. “Are you quite certain you want me to + do that?” he queried. “Five thousand dollars is quite a sum for a poor sea + captain to toss aside so contemptuously. Why not accept it as compensation + for that broken rib, and that bullet I put through your left shoulder, the + dislocated right shoulder, the loose teeth and the split lip? In fact, I + am so certain five thousand dollars will not cover your personal injuries + I am willing to be a sport and add something to the sum.” + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy grinned—rather a horrible grin it was, owing to + his swollen lip and jaw. + </p> + <p> + “Dutchy,” he said, “listen to me: All the money in the world couldn't make + me be untrue to my salt. And if you have any lingering notion that I'm not + going to collect a million dollars' worth of satisfaction for the way + you've acted aboard my ship, I can only say that as a fortune-teller + you'll never earn enough money to keep yourself in cigarettes. You say you + have been trained to provide for all conceivable emergencies, so I'm + advising you, as a friend, to brace yourself for the surprise of your life + before you're a week older. Have you pondered the possibility of sudden + death aboard the S.S. <i>Narcissus?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Should we be overhauled by a British cruiser I should take a + short cut to eternity. One naturally dislikes the thought of being hanged + for a pirate. It would be a reflection on one's family. As for sudden + death by violence at the hands of any member of the crew of this + steamship, I should be willing to risk quite a sum of money that no such + tragedy will be enacted.” + </p> + <p> + “Just why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll be safe in this stateroom until I am ready to turn your + command back to you, and a man with two shoulders in the condition of + yours is hardly likely to try battering down this stout state-room door.” + </p> + <p> + “Correct. And I'm a trifle too thick in the middle to think of crawling + through the state-room window.” + </p> + <p> + “And if,” the supercargo continued, “you have any idea of calling the + engine-room on that speaking tube and soliciting aid from Mr. Reardon, + please be advised that for the present Mr. Reardon has been relieved from + duty in the engine-room.” + </p> + <p> + “So you've got Reardon locked up, too?” Murphy queried. “Well! Well! I'd + hate to think of being locked up and that man Reardon free. However, you + need not have worried. I'd die before I'd ask that fellow for help—and + he'd die before he'd give it.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand from the first mate. However, I thought it prudent to + guard against a temporary truce and an alliance for the common interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Dutchy,” said the skipper, “you're pretty smart.” + </p> + <p> + Von Staden smiled most companionably. “I also took the precaution to + remove some weapons from your apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “Take anything from me, Dutchy, except my honor, my pipe and tobacco, and + my ship. Take any one of those four, however, and may the Lord have mercy + on your soul. Please hand me that book entitled <i>Backwood's Surgery</i> + till I see what's good for a broken rib; then send the steward for my + breakfast order. After that—well, after that you might make your + will, Dutchy.” + </p> + <p> + “I did that in Pernambuco,” the delightful Herr von Staden replied, “so + your advice is wasted.” + </p> + <p> + He handed the skipper the book on surgery and went out, carefully locking + the door behind him. He returned presently and stood beside the steward, + who thrust his head through the state-room window and desired to know the + captain's choice of breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “A bowl of mush and milk, three soft-boiled eggs and a pot of coffee. No + toast. Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + When the steward returned with the order he was accompanied by Mr. + Schultz, the first mate. The sight of the traitor threw Mike into a + furious rage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Schultz,” he said ominously, “the things I'm going to do to you would + make the devil blush.” + </p> + <p> + “So?” Mr. Schultz replied soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to hang von Staden. He's a pirate, and the rule of the Seven + Seas is that a skipper hangs a pirate whenever he can lay hands on him. + And you know me, Mr. Schultz. I'm a devil for etiquette aboard ship. As + for you, you're only guilty of mutiny, so I'll content myself with tricing + you up to the shrouds and flogging you with a cat soaked in brine.” + </p> + <p> + And so on, <i>ad libitum, ad infinitum</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schultz was frankly mystified. Being a German, he did not understand + the Irish, although in view of the fact that during the war he had room in + his head for but one thing—the Fatherland—perhaps the skipper + might have pardoned his mate the glance of contempt and utter disgust + which the latter now bent upon him. Here was a man, Mr. Schultz told + himself, who, having stipulated his price and struck a bargain, had + demonstrated beyond cavil that he was not a gentleman, for he had refused + to stay bought. More, he had basely attacked his benefactor. + </p> + <p> + “So?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Out, you blackguard, and leave me alone!” Murphy yelled. + </p> + <p> + “It iss an order dot I stay und see dot der steward shall mayg no + conversations vatsoefer,” Mr. Schultz declared firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Verboten, eh?” sneered the skipper. He had once been to Hamburg, and + naturally he had acquired the word most commonly used in the German + language. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ja</i>,” Mr. Schultz replied placidly, but with an air of finality + that left no room for further argument. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + In the course of the afternoon, having chewed the bitter cud of reflection + and reviewed his situation from every possible angle, Mike Murphy came to + the conclusion that, for all Terence Reardon's religious backsliding, he + might be fairly honest in money matters and possessed of a sense of + loyalty where his owners' interests were concerned. Also, having found + Herr von Staden bluffing in one instance it occurred to the captain he + might be discovered bluffing in another—so he resolved to + investigate. Accordingly at an hour when he knew Terence should be in the + engine room he took up the speaking-tube at the head of his bed and blew + into it. But no shrill whistle signalled his desire in the engine room, + and though Michael blew until he was red in the face and his lips hurt him + cruelly, reluctantly he came to the conclusion that Herr August Carl von + Staden had the situation very well in hand and Terence Reardon in the + latter's state-room under lock and key. + </p> + <p> + He was right in one particular: von Staden had the situation very well in + hand, but he did not have Terence Reardon under lock and key. Murphy had + been balked in making connections with the unsuspecting Terence for the + reason that a little ball of cotton waste had very carefully been tucked + into the engine-room howler a few inches at the back of the whistle at the + chief's end of the tube. Hence, in the event that one sought to whistle up + the other, he merely wasted his breath. Having learned, on the very + excellent authority of both men in the case, that they despised each other + and were not on speaking terms, von Staden decided that the chance of + Terence Reardon's listening to Michael J. Murphy's tale of piracy and + mutiny was so vague as to be almost negligible. However, he was + painstaking and careful in all things and never ran any unnecessary risks; + consequently, just to be on the safe side, he had instructed the first + assistant to plug the speaking-tube leading to the skipper's room. And in + order to discourage the captain from, seeking an interview with the chief, + von Staden had told the former that the chief was a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon was too important a personage to be deprived of his liberty + when nothing was to be gained by such action. If he could be kept in + ignorance of the state of affairs aboard the <i>Narcissus</i>, he would + continue to attend to business; if the worst came to the worst his + friendship would be a better asset than his hatred. If he grew suspicious + and demanded a showdown, Herr von Staden would give it to him without + reservation and stuff his mouth with gold; then, if the chief declined to + listen to reason, it would be time enough to lock him up. While the + supercargo would not hesitate to sacrifice his life, his liberty, or his + honor for his country, he was nevertheless desirous of being a gentleman + if accorded the opportuniby. And it must be admitted he had found Mr. + Reardon amusing and vastly entertaining, for the very first night aboard, + after Mr. Schultz had introduced him to the chief and he had presented the + latter with a good cigar, Mr. Reardon, under the spell of the witchery + cast by the sea and the night, had sat on deck and told the German + wonderful tales of the fairies in Ireland—this while the skipper was + ashore. In particular he told von Staden the tale of the fairy queen with + the iron hand. + </p> + <p> + “Her hand,” said Terence, “was as beautiful as ye'd find in a day's + thravel, an' 'twas herself that'd dhrive men crazy afther wan look at her. + An' she was good to the poor, but divii a bit av love did she have for a + redcoat. Whin she'd take human form an' a bowld buck av a British dragoon + would come making love to her, 'tis herself would say to him: 'Captain, + alannah, would ye oblige me wit' a dhrink av wather?' An' whin he turrned + to dhraw the wather, she'd breathe on her hand—like that—an' + immejiately 'twould turn to iron an' wit' wan blow she'd knock his brains + out. Sure they found the bodies all over Ireland, but divil a man, woman, + or child could they ever convict av the murrder. For why? Why, sure, the + minute she'd killed a redcoat she'd breathe on her hand ag'in, an' + immejiately 'twas flesh an' blood ag'in!” + </p> + <p> + No, decidedly it would not do to imprison this excellent fellow. Von + Staden had read fairy tales as a boy, but never had he met a man who could + tell them like Terence Reardon. A hard-headed, highly intelligent chief + engineer of a big tramp steamer telling tales of the fairies! Von Staden + couldn't understand it. It was so childish—and yet there was nothing + childish about Terence Reardon. The German wondered if Terence Reardon + believed in the fairies and finally he asked him point-blank if he did; + whereupon Terence turned a solemn eye upon him and replied: + </p> + <p> + “Why, av course I do not. Do you think I'm a blubber-jack av a bhoy? But + isn't it pleasant to talk about thim whilst wan has nothing betther to do? + Sure, whin I'm lonely at night I think up new fairy tales to tell to the + childhren whin I come home from a v'yage.” + </p> + <p> + So that was the Irish of it! Strangely enough it did not occur to the + practical German that an individual with an imagination like that, on such + an expedition as the present, was the most dangerous person imaginable to + be given the freedom of the ship. + </p> + <p> + So passed twelve days and nights. Mr. Schultz kept in his pocket the key + to the captain's state-room, and consequently was always present when the + little cockney steward brought the prisoner his meals, tidied up the + state-room and made up the captain's bed. The captain spent most of his + time lying on his uninjured side and remained very quiet, for the + fractured rib, which had received no attention, was causing him a great + deal of suffering. Neither did the bullet wound in his shoulder heal + cleanly, for the reason, unknown to the captain, that the bullet had + carried with it into the muscle a fragment of Michael J.'s undershirt. + </p> + <p> + However, his physical sufferings were as nothing compared with those he + experienced mentally. He had hoped to be in fair fighting condition within + a week at the latest. Wrapped in paper and tucked away in the back of the + ship's safe he had a silver-hilted stiletto he had taken away from a + cutthroat who had tried to rob him once in Valparaiso—and with this + weapon he had planned to cut away the lock on the state-room door. And + once outside— + </p> + <p> + What Michael J. Murphy did not know was that when one has dislocated one's + shoulder one will do very little wood-carving during the three subsequent + weeks. It almost broke the skipper's heart to think he had made a threat + in good faith, and was balked from making it good. + </p> + <p> + During this entire period Mr. Reardon was going about his duties as usual, + in absolute ignorance of the state of affairs about the ship, for he was + an innocent, trustful sort of fellow, and to a born romanticist like + Terence the fairy tale which Mr. Schultz had spun at breakfast the morning + after leaving Pernambuco was not at all difficult of assimilation. It + appeared—according to Mr. Schultz—that the skipper had gone + ashore for a night of roystering, and upon returning to the ship about + midnight, in a wild state of intoxication, had become involved in an + altercation with the launchman over the fare. In the resultant battle the + skipper, in his helpless condition, was being terribly beaten by the + vicious Pernambucan; hence one could scarcely blame him for drawing a + pistol and shooting the launchman—fatally, according to Mr. Schultz. + Of course, after that, to have lingered longer inside the three-mile limit + would have been sheer insanity, so Mr. Schultz, taking matters into his + own hands, had uphooked and skipped with doused lights from the + jurisdiction of the Pernambuco police. + </p> + <p> + “And how did the skipper come out of all this?” Mr. Reardon had inquired + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “He iss in rodden shape,” Mr. Schultz had declared. “Von of hiss angles + vos brogen, und he vos cut mid a knive—preddy deeb, but noddings to + worry aboud. Der only drouble iss der dooty of navigading der shib falls + double on der segond mate und me.” + </p> + <p> + “Make him pay ye over-time out av his own wages, the wurthless vagabone!” + Mr. Reardon had urged. “May he walk wit' a limp for the rest av his days—bad + cess to him! I've a notion, Misther Schultz, that lad'll never comb his + hair grey.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schultz nodded lugubriously; then he glanced up and caught the little + cockney steward staring at him so balefully, that he realized he must have + speech in private with the steward. Consequently he lingered at table + until Mr. Reardon finished his breakfast and went below; whereupon Mr. + Schultz intimated to the steward, in his direct blunt fashion, that for + the remainder of the voyage, Riggins—for that was the steward's name—was + to consider himself deaf, dumb and blind; the penalty for reconsideration + within the hearing of Mr. Reardon being a swift and immediate excursion, + personally conducted by Mr. Schultz, to Davy Jones's locker! Following + this earnest exhortation, Riggins, never a robust person mentally or + physically, came abruptly to the conclusion that this was one of those + occasions where silence, if not exactly golden, was at least to be + preferred to great riches. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + IT may appear strange that during the days and nights Michael J. Murphy + lay on his bed of pain Terence Reardon did not once pass the little open + window of the skipper's state-room. Not, however, that the latter watched + for him, for he did not. He believed that Reardon, like himself, was a + prisoner; although, had the chief passed the window and had the captain + observed his passing, the complacence of Herr von Staden and his patriotic + company would have received a jar much earlier in the voyage. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, however, for Murphy's plans, the chief's stateroom was + located in the after part of the house and on the side opposite the + skipper's, and following their brief spat through the speaking-tube, + Terence Reardon had confined himself exclusively to his engine-room and + that portion of the ship along which he must of necessity pass when going + to and from his state-room. He told himself it was the part of wisdom for + one of his ferocious temper to avoid the occasions of sin. Certainly it + would be hard to pass the skipper's state-room without looking in, + particularly since in these warm latitudes the door would probably be + open; for should the skipper be within at the time, they would + peradventure scowl at each other, and he is a fool indeed who cannot + foretell the future when a thousand generations of natural enemies + exchange “the black look.” Terence remembered his boy Johnny, a youth who, + according to Mrs. Reardon, should never be a marine engineer, but the + finest lawyer that ever pouched a fat fee. And there was Mary Agnes and + Catherine Bertram. Next year they would begin taking piano lessons, and in + the fullness of time, no matter how hard the pull, both should go to the + state university and acquire the education made to fit their father's + head, but by force of circumstances denied him. And at the thought Terence + looked at his hard black hands and set himself resolutely to face a life + sentence of rattling ash hoists, roaring furnaces and the soft sucking + sounds of the pistons. Two hundred dollars a month—and the union + scale was a hundred and fifty! Ah, no, he dared not trifle with that job. + He must, at all hazard, avoid friction with the skipper, for what would + Mrs. Reardon say if Cappy Ricks forced him to roll the bones with Mike + Murphy—one flop and high man out? Mr. Reardon could close his eyes + and see Mike Murphy roll out a “stiff,” while with trembling hand the + Reardon rolled five sixes! + </p> + <p> + The <i>Narcissus</i> had been out of Pernambuco harbor four days before + Mr. Reardon, upon comparing the sun—which all are agreed rises in + the east—with the direction in which the ship was headed, and then + extracting the cube root of the resultant product, and subtracting it from + the longtitude and latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, decided that there + must be something wrong with Mr. Schultz's navigation. So he spoke to Mr. + Schultz about it, and was laughingly informed that they were traveling on + a great circle. Thereupon Mr. Reardon remembered that at sea a ship + traveling on the arc of a great circle, for some mysterious reason + repudiates the old geometrical theorem that a straight line is the + shortest distance between two points. He recalled that vessels plying + between San Francisco and Yokohama describe a great circle which brings + them well up toward the Aleutian Islands, So he was satisfied with the + explanation, this being his first voyage into the South Atlantic anyhow; + but he continued to observe the sun each morning, and still the vessel's + head held far to the south. A suspicion that all was not as it should be + slowly settled in Mr. Reardon's head, and though he said nothing, he used + his ejes and ears. A dozen times a day, as the ship rolled steadily south, + he was tempted to take down the speaking tube and confide his suspicions + to the master, confined in his state-room by reason of deep—but not + serious-knife wounds. Each time he was on the point of yielding, however, + he remembered that Mike Murphy had called him a renegade—so he + refrained. + </p> + <p> + The installation of the wireless plant and the presence aboard the ship of + Herr von Staden had failed to arouse his suspicions the first day out. + True, the wireless could not have been connected with the electric light + plant below without Mr. Reardon's knowledge and consent, but when he asked + Mr. Schultz about it the latter replied that Cappy Ricks must have changed + his mind about installing wireless on the <i>Narcissus</i>, for he had + cabled to the agents of the charterers in Pernambuco to have a wireless + plant and a competent operator waiting for the vessel upon arrival. It was + Mr. Schultz's opinion that the owners had evidently arrived at the + conclusion that it was wise to have a wireless aboard during war times. + Personally, Mr. Schultz approved of the innovation. + </p> + <p> + So did Terence Reardon, for that matter. He found the new wireless + operator a charming fellow, possessed of talents far superior to those of + the young men who ordinarily pound the brass at sea. Indeed, after the + second day out, Mr. Reardon would have been heartbroken had anything + happened to that wireless. For Herr August Carl von Staden sat at the key + almost continuously, eavesdropping on the war news, and Mr. Reardon never + came to the wireless room that the operator did not have some news of an + overwhelming British defeat! + </p> + <p> + As the voyage proceeded, however, and Mr. Reardon's mind grew a trifle + uneasy, reluctantly he began to view Herr von Staden and the wireless with + apprehension. He asked the affable operator how much the Marconi company + charged the <i>Narcissus</i> for his services and the rental of the + wireless plant, and von Staden, momentarily stumped, replied that the + tariff was two hundred dollars a month; whereupon Reardon knew he lied, + for the charge is one hundred and forty. The German, realizing instantly + that he was not on the target, added: “That is, for a first-grade operator + and a plant like this. Of course we furnish cheaper operators and less + powerful plants, Mr. Reardon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So that's the way av it?” the chief replied, and immediately went to + his state-room for the purpose of thinking it over. Eventually he came to + the conclusion that all was not as it should be, but that, nevertheless, + it was no affair of his. He was paid to obey signals given him from the + bridge. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis no business av mine, afther all,” he soliloquized. “For why should I + be puttin' dogs in windows? He's paid to navigate the ship, an' didn't + Cappy Ricks tell me to mind me own business? And yet, there's something + wrong in this ship. I feel it in me bones.” + </p> + <p> + He felt it with a force that was almost violent when Mr. Schultz called + down through the speaking-tube late one afternoon and told him to put her + under a dead-slow bell. That meant they were practically heaving to, and + steamers only heave to at sea in fine weather when they have reached a + certain longitude and latitude and plan to keep an appointment. On the + instant there was a strong odor of rat in Terence Reardon's engine room, + but his “Very well, sir,” contained no hint of his surprise and suspicion. + He gave his orders to the firemen to bank the fires, and when this had + been done he informed his engine-room crew that they might all go on deck + for five minutes and get a breath of fresh air. Nothing loath, they + scrambled up the steel stairway—and the instant the last man was out + of earshot Terence Reardon sprang to the speaking-tube to whistle up the + skipper in his room. + </p> + <p> + Now, undoubtedly the cool and calculating Herr August Carl von Staden had + been carefully trained to take into consideration, when planning his + strategy, every conceivable contingency that might possibly arise. It is + probable that the German secret service never turned out a more finished + graduate than Herr von Staden; but the fact remains, nevertheless, that + there are certain contingencies over which no human being has control. One + of these is Newton's law of gravitation; another, an equally immutable law + to the effect that water will seek its own level; a third, the + vindictiveness of an outraged Irishman; and a fourth, the very natural + tendency of any man, not excepting Mr. Terence Reardon, to be profoundly + surprised and intensely curious when certain phenomena, which we shall now + proceed to explain, take place in the engine room where he is chief. + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy, having only the day before again essayed the task of + whistling up the engine room, and having, by reason of the ball of cotton + waste with which the tube had been plugged by the first assistant + engineer, again failed to receive the courtesy of a reply from any one, + had, to put it mildly, been annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my bullies,” he soliloquized as he hung up the tube, “you + wouldn't speak to me when I wanted to speak to you; so now the first time + one of you wants to speak to me I'll hand you a surprise, and I'll hand it + to you right in the mouth.” And forthwith Michael J. had carefully poured + down the speaking tube the contents of the basin in which he had just made + his morning ablutions! He longed to do something nasty, and he succeeded + admirably. + </p> + <p> + As we have already remarked, water seeks its own level. It ran down the + speaking-tube until it encountered the cotton waste plug; whereupon, due + to the hydrostatic pressure, the plug gave way and was forced down to the + tightly closed mouth of the tube, and the suds backed up behind it. It was + pretty warm in the engine room, and most of the water had evaporated by + the time Terence Reardon took down the looped tube and opened it for the + purpose of putting his lips to the mouthpiece and blowing heartily through + it. However, there was about a gill of water left in the tube. + </p> + <p> + Now, as everybody knows, water running down a slope of seventy-five or + eighty degrees comes rather fast. Consequently Mr. Reardon had no time to + dodge. + </p> + <p> + Why be squeamish? He got a mouthful and was very nauseated for half a + minute. Also he cursed, we regret to record, and was very, very angry. + Carefully he drained the devilish tube, wiped it clean with some fresh + waste, and racked his brain for the right thing to say to Michael J. + Murphy. Finally he hit upon something he concluded would about fill the + bill, so he put his lips to the mouthpiece once more and whistled up the + skipper. To his surprise, however, his breath didn't seem to get anywhere: + in fact, it was directed back in his face rather forcefully; so he + investigated and discovered the mouthpiece was only half open. Upon + endeavoring to open it fully he sensed an obstruction in the back of it, + so he unscrewed the mouthpiece and drew forth a ball of dirty, + sour-smelling cotton waste. + </p> + <p> + He gazed a moment in speechless wonder. Then: “I'll whistle that dirrty + Tomfool, until he answers me in self-defense,” he announced'to the main + motor, and forthwith blew a mighty blast. Almost instantly Michael J. + Murphy yelled: “Hullo!” + </p> + <p> + “Murphy,” Terence Reardon announced calmly and very distinctly, “you're a + contimptible dhrunken ape!” + </p> + <p> + “Holy Moses! Reardon, is that you?” the astounded Murphy demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It is-as you'll discover whin you're able to come on deck an' give me the + satisfaction I'll demand for the dirrty dab av wather an' cotton waste you + put in the tube, knowin' that the firrst time I took it down to spheak to + you, ye blackguard, in the line av djooty—which is the only reason I + would spheak to you—I'd get it full in the mouth. Ye dirrty, lyin', + schamin', dhrunken murrderer!” + </p> + <p> + He paused to let that stream of adjectival opprobrium sink in. Silence. + Then: + </p> + <p> + “I poured the contents of my washbasin in the tube, I'll admit, but I did + not plug it with cotton waste. One of your assistants did that, chief, and + as for the water, as God is my judge, I didn't intend it for you—” + </p> + <p> + “Who else would ye be afther insultin' if it wasn't me? Are ye not + friendly wit' me assistants?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Reardon, and listen to what I'm going to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + And then the tale was told. When it was done Terence Reardon grunted. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” he said. “I knew it! I felt in me bones there was something + wrong aboard this ship. An' so ye were not dhrunk an' disordherly at + Pernambuco?” + </p> + <p> + “The liars! Did they tell you that? Reardon, it's only the mercy of heaven + they didn't murder me. I'm lying here, helpless and crippled in my + state-room, with the key turned in the lock. They've stolen my ship from + me, and I can tell by the roll of her she's practically hove to under a + dead-slow bell this minute. We've reached the rendezvous—we're + waiting for the German fleet to deliver the coal; and oh, man, man, if + we're caught by a British cruiser we'll lose the ship! They'll confiscate + her, chief. Wirra! Wirra!” he cried, breaking into the forgotten wail of + his childhood. “How can I ever face Matt Peasley and Cappy Ricks after + this? Reardon, man, they'll think we stood in with the Germans and let + them do it. We're both Irish—they know we're both pro-German—” + </p> + <p> + “What's that you said?” Terence demanded sharply. “Me pro-German. Me? I <i>was</i> + pro-German—yis—wanst!” + </p> + <p> + Fell a silence. + </p> + <p> + Now, for the benefit of the uninitiated, be it known that there is a + certain curse employed by the Irish and by no other race on earth. + Whenever you hear an Irishman employ it, you know instantly—provided, + of course, you are Irish yourself—just what kind of Irish that + Irishman is. You cannot mistake it. There is no possible chance. It is + only brought forth with the dust of the centuries on it, so to speak, to + grace a fitting occasion. Terence Reardon felt that such an occasion was + now at hand. As naturally, as inevitably, therefore, as the suds ran down + the speaking-tube, that curse climbed up it—softly, distinctly, and + with a wealth of feeling in the back of it: + </p> + <p> + “God put the curse av Crummle on thim!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon, of course, referred to the late Oliver Cromwell. Any one who + has ever read the sorry history of Erin knows what the amiable Oliver did + to the Irish. Consequently such an one will have no difficulty in + estimating the precise proportions of bad luck Terence Reardon prayed + might be the immediate heritage of the crew of the S.S. <i>Narcissus</i>. + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy blinked rapidly, for all the world as if Mr. Schultz had + entered at that moment and struck him a terrific blow on top of the head. + A more dazed Irishman than he never threw an ancient egg or a defunct cat + at an alleged Celtic comedian with green whiskers. He was absolutely + staggered—but not for long. The Irish come back very quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Shame on you, Terence Reardon!” he declared. “And you with a Masonic ring + on your finger.” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be!” cried the delighted Terence. “Sure are you wan av us?” + </p> + <p> + “One of you!” Mike Murphy fairly shrieked. “The minute I'm out of this + room you'll apologize or fight for thinking I'm a renegade.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Naboclish!</i>” laughed Terence Reardon, slipping into the Gaelic and + out again. “The divil a Mason am I! Sure that ring ye saw on me finger + that day in the office av the owners belonged to me second assistant in + the <i>Arab</i>. He'd lost it in the engine room, an' a mont' afther he'd + left I found it. Not knowin' what ship he was in, 'twas me intintion to + take the ring over to the Marine Engineers' Association an' lave it for + him wit' the secreth'ry; and to make sure I wouldn't forget it I put it on + me finger—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you knew, Terence, that with the likes of me round you'd not be + liable to forget it,” Mike Murphy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “As for you, ye divil,” Terence continued, “faith, what wit' yer English + tweeds an' the fancy cut av thim, an' yer lack av the brogue an' the broad + <i>a</i> av ye, I thought, begorra, ye were a dirrty Far Down! God love + ye, Michael, but 'tis the likes av you I'm proud to be ship-mates wit'.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said you were from Belfast, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am. I was borrn there, but me parents—the Lord 'a' merrcy on + their sowls—moved back to Kerry.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Michael, me poor lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever drink on duty? I don't mean with your superiors—” + </p> + <p> + The chief chuckled. He knew what Murphy was alluding to. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he replied, “wit' me equals.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a pity, Terence, that man Schultz has the key to my state-room in + his pocket. Now if you could manage to tap that Dutchman on the head with + something hard and heavy, take the key out of his pocket and throw him + overheard, you could let me out of this purgatory I'm in. Then I wouldn't + be surprised if the sight of me and the absence of Mr. Schultz would put a + bit of heart in that little cockney steward—and maybe he'd bring a + drink to hearten you for what's ahead of you this night.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what might that be, avic?” Terence demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to steal the ship back from them, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Michael. 'Tis not a small thing ye ask me to do, but the divil + a more willin' man could ye find to ask. Have ye figured out the plan av + campaign? Sure what wit' the suddenness av it all I'm all in a shweat wit' + excitement.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be cold enough before morning, Terry, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to you, Michael! Dyin' is wan thing I cannot afford to do, + although be the same token they tell me ould Ricks has a kind shpot in the + heart av him for the widow an' the orphan—particularly av thim that + dies in his service! As I say, I cannot afford to get kilt, but in back av + that ag'in I cannot afford to lose the best job I ever had. An' afther + all, 'tis a poor man that won't fight for a fine, kind gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the fine, kind gentleman! It serves him right for letting us get + into this fix. He can afford the loss of the ship, but you and I, Terence + Reardon, cannot afford the loss of our honor and self-respect. For the + sake of the blood that's in us we can't afford to let a lot of Dutchmen + steal our ship and cargo.” + </p> + <p> + “Whist!” Reardon warned. “Hurry up. Me crew is comin' below ag'in.” + </p> + <p> + “Make it a point to pass by my state-room window after dark. You'll find a + scrap of paper on the sill. Help yourself to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I will,” Mr. Reardon promised fervently, and the tube closed with + a click. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + TERENCE Reardon's preparations for the night's work began the instant he + hung up the speaking-tube. The <i>Narcissus</i> carried three assistant + engineers, in consequence of which Mr. Reardon was not required to stand a + watch unless he so elected; although from force of habit acquired in the + days when he had been chief of the <i>Arab</i>—a little + three-thousand-ton tramp—and perforce had to stand a regular watch, + he found it very difficult not to spend at least eight hours in every + twenty-four in the engine room. When, eventually, he came to a realization + that his job was not to make the engines behave, but to see that they + behaved properly, he spent more of his time on deck, and put in only a few + hours below during the watch of the third assistant engineer—the + third assistant being a young man in whom the chief reposed exactly that + degree of confidence a chief engineer should always repose in a third + assistant. Mr. Reardon, therefore, was at liberty to leave the engine-room + whenever he felt so disposed; and following his illuminating conversation + with the captain he felt very much disposed to leave immediately. + </p> + <p> + He went first to his state-room, where he bathed, changed into new + under-clothes and socks, donned a freshly laundered suit of faded + dungarees—old, faded, well-washed dungarees, by the way, always + appearing neater and cleaner than new ones—and shaved; for if + Providence willed it that lie should die to-night. Mr. Reardon was + resolved to be in such a highly sanitary condition that “those upon whom + should devolve the melancholy duty of laying him out”—which phrase, + in the Hibernian sense, means those who should dispose his limbs, close + his eyes, tie up his black jowls with a towel and fold his hands—alas, + so white in death, at last! across his still breast—might be moved + to remark that, notwithstanding the nature of the deceased's vocation, + they could not recall ever having seen a cleaner corpse. + </p> + <p> + Having attended to his pre-dissolution toilet, Mr. Reardon next sat in at + his littered desk, swept a space clear of tobacco crumbs, ashes, pipes and + some old copies of the <i>Cork Eagle</i>, and sat down to write a farewell + letter to his wife, hoping that, even though his enemies should slay him, + yet would they have sufficient respect for the dead to mail that letter to + Mrs. Reardon. And, in order that he might not anger his posthumous + benefactors, he mentioned nothing of the state of affairs aboard the ship. + He merely stated that she might never see him again, in which event she + was to call upon the owners and ask them to invest for her the proceeds of + his life insurance policy, since they could and would invest it to better + advantage than she. Then he spoke of his grief at the thought of the + children being forced to forego their college education and suggested that + she ask Cappy Ricks to give Johnny a place in his office; also, should the + owners offer anything as compensation for the loss of her husband, she was + to accept it, for, as God was his judge, she would be entitled to it! This + last sentence Terence underscored for emphasis; that was as close as he + came to saying that if he died it would be in defense of his owner's + interest. Then he commended her to the comfort of her religion and + subscribed himself: “Your loving and devoted husband, Terence P. Reardon, + Chief Engineer S.S. <i>Narcissus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Having set his small affairs in order against a hasty exit from this vale + of hatreds, Mr. Reardon, in unconscious imitation of all the condemned men + who had preceded him on the voyage across the Styx, repaired to the dining + saloon and partook of a hearty meal. He realized he had undertaken a + contract that would require the employment of weapons more formidable than + his hard fists, and devoutly he wished that, like the fairy queen, he had + but to breathe on them to metamorphose them into pig iron. He pictured the + slaughter aboard the <i>Narcissus</i> when he should wade into the + conflict. Finally he made up his mind that, in lieu of an iron hand or + two, he would use his favorite monkey wrench, for he had no firearms + whatsoever; although, had somebody presented him with a one-man machine + gun with full directions for using, Mr Reardon would have recoiled in + horror from it. Firearms were highly dangerous. They killed so many + people! + </p> + <p> + He left the table long before the others had finished. There was no one on + deck as he emerged from the dining saloon, so he walked leisurely round + past the captain's cabin, whistling the “Cruiskeen Lawn” to let Mike + Murphy know who was coming. Evidently Michael assimilated the hint, for + there was an envelope on the little window sill as Terence hove abreast of + it. He snatched it swiftly away and continued round to his own state-room. + </p> + <p> + The envelope contained Michael J. Murphy's plan for campaign worked out to + the most minute detail, by reason of his absolute knowledge of the customs + aboard the ship. Mr. Reardon read the remarkable document and sat lost in + admiration; a twinkle leaped to his eyes and a cunning, rather deadly + little smile came sneaking round the corners of his broad chin. + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, but 'tis a beautiful schame,” he soliloquized. “Who but that lad + could have t'ought av it? An' here I've been shpendin' the past two hours + borrowin' trouble.” + </p> + <p> + He read and reread the plan of attack, in order to familiarize himself + with the details; then he held a match to the document and destroyed it. + He considered a moment, and then performed a similar service to his + farewell letter to Mrs. Reardon, for the chief engineer of the S.S. <i>Narcissus</i>, + of San Francisco, had made up his mind not to die—to-night! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Schultz, the first assistant, and Mr. von Staden were engaged in + coffee and repartee when Terence Reardon thrust his head in at the dining + saloon window. He was mildly excited. + </p> + <p> + “Be the Great Gun av Athlone!” he declared. “I've just been bit be a + bedbug—an' I t'ought there wasn't a bedbug in the ship!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schultz looked up, horrified. “Chieve,” he said, “dot is rodden news. + Bedbugs! <i>Ach!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “An' well you may '<i>Ach</i>,' Misther Schultz. Let a colony av bedbugs + move into the <i>Narcissus</i> an' Terence P. Reardon will move out. + There's only wan thing to do, Misther Schultz, an' that is to tackle the + divils before we're overwhelmed be the weight av numbers. Have ye a bit av + sulphur in yer shtore-room, Misther Schultz—the kind that comes in + balls an' is used to burrn in shtate-rooms to kill bedbugs?” + </p> + <p> + When Terence Reardon put that innocent query to the first mate he knew + very well Mr. Schultz would reply in the negative—which he did—for + the reason that Michael J. Murphy had privately informed Mr. Reardon that + the little cockney steward, Riggins, had charge of the bedbug ammunition. + Riggins, who had been standing with his back against the wall, eyeing Mr. + Schultz sourly, now spoke up and said he had some sulphur. + </p> + <p> + “More power to ye, Riggins!” Mr. Reardon declared heartily. “Then do ye, + like the good lad, give me two or three balls av it. I'll burn them in me + shtate-room to-night, wit' the door an' window locked, an' be morrnin' + sorra bedbug will be left alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” Riggins replied. “Might Hi arsk, Mr. Reardon, where you + hintend passin' the night?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll shleep in me auld aisy-chair abaft the house an' next the funnel, + where I'll be snug an' warrm,” Mr. Reardon replied, for he desired an + excuse to be on deck all night without arousing the suspicions of Mr. + Schultz or von Staden. + </p> + <p> + The steward, having finished serving those who ate in the dining saloon, + stepped out on deck and started for his own room. Mr. Reardon remained by + the window a minute, discoursing on the curse of bedbugs aboard a ship, + and then with a sigh followed the steward leisurely. Mr. Schultz appeared + undecided whether or not to accompany him in the capacity of censor, but + finally concluded to remain and finish his coffee, for if Riggins had + decided to enlighten the chief as to the real reason for the skipper's + indisposition he had had frequent opportunity to do so during the past ten + days. It did not seem likely, therefore, that he would run any risks at + this late date. To Mr. Schultz, Riggins appeared to be a man who could be + depended upon to remember which side his bread was buttered on and who + supplied the butter. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the steward's state-room, Mr. Reardon helped himself to the + entire box of bedbug exterminator and addressed Riggins very briefly: + </p> + <p> + “Riggins, ye're a child av Johnny Bull, are ye not?” + </p> + <p> + Riggins, without the slightest trace of embarrassment, admitted his + disgrace. + </p> + <p> + “An' bein' what ye are,” Mr. Reardon continued, “would ye do somethin' av + great binifit to England?” + </p> + <p> + Riggins replied that inasmuch as he had lost two brothers at the Battle of + the Marne, that ought to indicate bally well where the Riggins tribe stood + on the subject of defense of the realm. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” Mr. Reardon murmured. “Even if misguided in their pathriotic + motives, shtill yer brothers were brave min, an' for that I respect thim. + Now, thin, Riggins, ye rabbit, listen to me: In a momint av surpassin' + innocince Captain Murphy an' mesilf swallowed a cute suggestion from a lad + whose back I'll break in two halves whin the <i>Narcissus</i> gets back to + San Francisco. 'Why not save expinse,' says he, 'an' ship the crew av this + German liner that's interned over in Richardson's Bay?' Riggins, to make a + long shtory short, we have thim this minute, an' the dear God knows that + even if shipped at the German scale av wages that gang'll prove a dear + crew to the Blue Star Navigation Company if you an' I, Riggins, fail to do + our djooty. They've half murdered the captain, shtolen the ship an' cargo + from him, an' run her t'ousands av miles off her course to deliver the + coal to the German fleet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my bloody ol' Aunt Maria!” gasped the horrified Riggins. + </p> + <p> + “What I want to know from you, Riggins, is this: Will ye help me shteal + the ship back to-night? We're runnin' almost due south, an' that + good-for-nothin' von Staden has been in communication wit' the fleet all + day long. I feel it in me bones. If we get the ship back we'll head due + west for the coast av South America an' hug the three-mile limit-an' the + devil scoort them thin. Riggins, ye gossoon, what for the cause av Merry + England? They wouldn't take ye for a gift in the British Arrmy, for I + doubt if ye'd weigh ninety pounds soakin' wet an' a rock in yer hand, but + for all that, here's an iligant opporchunity for ye to serrve yer + counthry, an' should worrd av yer brave action reach the king—bad + cess to him—he may call ye Sir Thomas Riggins an' make ye + consul-general av the Cannibal Islands. + </p> + <p> + “Out wit' it, Riggins. Yer king an' counthry calls ye, an' be the same + token so do Michael J. Murphy an' Terence P. Reardon. What'll ye give, + Riggins, to preserve the seas to Britain?” + </p> + <p> + “Me 'eart's blood, that's wot!” Riggins replied quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I accept the sacrifice in the name av His Majesty, King Jarge! Be on deck + at ten o'clock sharp, waitin' close undher the shtarboard companion + leadin' to the bridge. Whin I come out on the shtarboard ind av the bridge + an' whistle 'O'Donnell Abu,' do ye—” + </p> + <p> + “S'help me, chief, I never 'eard of the blighter before,” Riggins + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “God forgive me!” Mr. Reardon murmured <i>sotto voce</i>. “I'll have to do + it. Well, thin, Riggins, whin I come out on the shtarboard ind av the + bridge an' whistle 'God Save the King'—troth, I'll gamble that's one + blighter ye've hearrd tell av—do ye run up into the pilot-house an' + take the wheel. I'll not whistle until we have the deck to ourselves, + wit'out fear av intherruption, an' ye must come quick an' take the wheel, + else the vessel'll fall off into the trough av the sea an' commince to + wallow—which same'll wake up the second mate an' bring him an' von + Staden on deck to see what's wrong wit' her. An' until I'm ready to call + on those lads I'm not wishful to have them call on me! Remimber, Riggins: + Wan jump an' ye're into the pilot-house; then howld her head up to the sea—an' + lave the rest to me. Gwan wit' ye now, or that skut, Schultz, will be + gettin' suspicious av us.” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Schultz came along ten minutes later he found Mr. Reardon very + busy calking with oakum the cracks round the door and window of his + state-room, through which little wisps of yellow smoke were curling. Mr. + Schultz was so completely deceived that he hurried round to his own + quarters and pawed over his own mattress and bedding in a vain search for + bedbugs. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + At eight o'clock Mr. Schultz relieved the second mate on the bridge, and + five minutes later Terence Reardon, for the first time invaded that + forbidden territory. “Bad cess to me!” he complained plaintively. “I'm the + picthur av bad luck. I've a leaky connection below an' divil a bit av red + lead. Could ye lind me a dab av red lead from yer shtore-room, Misther + Schultz?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schultz marvelled that any man could force his mind to dwell on red + lead, leaky pipe connections, sulphur and bedbugs in a ship like the <i>Narcissus</i> + at a time like this. He had met a few innocents in his day, but this Irish + engineer was most innocent of all. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Mike!” he replied, and grinned at his feeble play on words. “<i>Und</i> + as I gannot leave der bridge yet, here iss der key to der store-room. Helb + yourself, mine <i>Freund, und</i> den gif me der key back.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye addie-pated son of sin!” Mr. Reardon soliloquized as he took the key + and departed. “Faith, a booby birrd has more sinse nor you! D'ye suppose I + didn't wait until ye were on djooty before axin' ye, well knowin' ye'd + lind me the key an' I'd be alone in yer shtore-room!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon was in the store-room less than two minutes. When he emerged + he carried a daub of red lead on an old spoon, as Mr. Schultz, looking + down on the dimly lighted main deck, observed. What he did not observe, + however, was the chief's action in tossing the spoon overboard the instant + he passed beyond the range of Mr. Schultz's vision. It is probable, also, + that the mate would have been disturbed could he have seen Mr. Reardon in + his state-room, with the door locked, removing from beneath his dungaree + jumper several fathoms of light, strong, cotton signal halyard, two + five-foot lengths of half-inch steel chain, and a strip of canvas. His + pockets also gave up two padlocks, with keys to fit. This loot Mr. Reardon + very carefully hid in the space under his settee, after which, with due + thanks, he returned the key to Mr. Schultz. + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the evening until nine-thirty Terence spent in the + wireless room with Herr von Staden. Then he retired, very low in spirits, + to his state-room, to make his preparations for wholesale assault with a + deadly weapon—possibly wholesale murder! He cut the signal halyard + into short lengths; then he cut the piece of canvas into strips about two + inches wide and secreted the halyard and canvas strips here and there + about his person. Then he descended to the engine room and selected his + monkey wrench from the tool rack on the wall, helped himself to a handful + of cotton waste, and returned to his state-room mournfully keening “The + Sorrowful Lamentation of Callaghan, Greally and Mullen, killed at the Fair + of Turloughmore.” + </p> + <p> + “Wirra,” he murmured presently, “but 'tis a terrible thing to hit an + unsuspectin' man wit' a monkey wrench! An' that divil von Staden, for all + his faults, is not a bad lad at all at all. An' I'd give five dollars—yes, + seven an' a half—if he were bald an' shiny on any other shpot save + an' exceptin' the shpot I have to hit him. Ochone! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Come tell me, dearest mother, what makes me father shtay + Or what can be th' reason that he's so long away?' + 'Oh, howld yer tongue, me darlin' son, yer tears do grieve me sore, + I fear he has been murdhered in the fair av Turloughmore!' +</pre> + <p> + “Sure, I haven't got the heart to dhrive the head av this monkey wrench + into that bald shpot. If he'd hair there I wouldn't mind.” Mr. Reardon + sighed dismally. “I'll have to wrap a waddin' av waste around me weapon, + so I'll neither kill nor mangle but lay thim out wit' wan good crack— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'It is on the firrst av August, the truth I will declare, + Those people they assimbled that day all at the fair, + But little was their notion that evil was in shtore, + All by the bloody Peelers at the fair av Turloughmore.' +</pre> + <p> + “I must practice crackin' the divils! Sure, 'twould be an awful thing to + have the sin av murrder on me sowl—not that 'tis murrder to kill a + Dutchman that's a self-confessed pirate into the bargain. Shtill, 'tis a + terrible t'ought to carry to the grave—” + </p> + <p> + Wham! Mr. Reardon brought his padded wrench down on his defenseless bed. + “Too harrd,” he told himself. “Sure a blow like that on top av the head + would knock out the teeth av the divil himself! Less horse-power, + Terence!” + </p> + <p> + Wham! He tried it again, this time with better results. For five minutes + he beat the bedclothes; then his spirits rose and, like the mercurial Celt + that he was, he chanted blithely a verse from “The Night Before Larry Was + Stretched”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Though, sure 'tis the best way to die, + Oh, the divil a betther a-livin'! + For sure whin the gallows is high, + Your journey is shorter to heaven; + But what harasses Larry the most, + An' makes his poor sowl melancholy, + Is to think av the time whin his ghost + Will come in a sheet to sweet Molly! + Oh, sure, 'twill kill her alive!'” + </pre> + <p> + He slipped the short, heavy monkey wrench up his right sleeve, walked out + on deck and stood at the corner of the house, smoking placidly and gazing + down on the main deck forward. The look-out on the forecastle head was not + visible in the darkness, but Mr. Reardon was not worried about that. “For + why,” he argued to himself, “should I go lookin' for the skut whin if I + wait a bit he'll come fluttherin' into me hand?” + </p> + <p> + He did. At five minutes after ten Mr. Schultz hailed the look-out in + German, and although Mr. Reardon spoke no German, yet did he understand + that order. Mr. Schultz, a victim of habit, desired the look-out to go to + the galley and bring up some hot coffee for him and the helmsman. It was + the custom aboard the <i>Narcissus</i>, as it is in most Pacific Coast + boats, for the cook, just before retiring, to brew a pot of coffee, drain + off the grounds and leave it to simmer on the galley range where, at + intervals of two hours during the night, the watch could come and help + itself. + </p> + <p> + Terence Reardon knew that the look-out, after heating the coffee and + bringing a few cups up on the bridge, would return to the galley and + partake of a cup and a bite himself. + </p> + <p> + The man came down off the forecastle head, crossed the main deck and + disappeared in the galley. In about ten minutes Mr. Reardon saw him climb + up the port companion to the bridge; a minute later he came down. Mr. + Reardon waited until he was certain the fellow was sipping his coffee in + the galley; then with the utmost nonchalance he went up on the bridge and + hailed Mr. Schultz, who was standing amidships blowing on a cup of coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Begorra,” he complained, “Divil a wink can I shleep to-night. I've been + sittin' wit' the wireless operator all evenin', an' now, thinks I, he's + weary listenin' to me nonsinse, so I'll go up on the bridge an' interview + Misther Schultz. If I—be the Rock av Cashel! What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Vot? Vere?” Mr. Schultz exclaimed, and set down his cup of coffee. He was + all excitement, for he had been looking for the flash of a searchlight for + the past hour and he wondered now if the unsuspecting Reardon had seen it + first. + </p> + <p> + “Over that way.” Mr. Reardon pointed off the port bow. “Did ye not see + that light?” + </p> + <p> + “A light. <i>Gott im Himmel!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Ye can't see it now,” Mr. Reardon replied soothingly. He stepped round to + the back of the mate and permitted his trusty monkey wrench to slip down + into his hand. “But if ye continue to look in that direction, Misther + Schultz, ye'll see not wan light but several.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Donnerwetter!</i> I gannot see dem,” Mr. Schultz protested, wondering + if there might not be some defect in his eyesight. + </p> + <p> + “Have no fear. Keep lookin' that way an' ye'll see thim,” Mr. Reardon + reassured him. “Ha-ha, ye divil!” he crooned—and struck. + </p> + <p> + “I'll gamble ye saw the lights I promised ye,” he breathed into the ear of + the unconscious mate as he deftly caught the falling body and eased it + noiselessly to the deck to avoid calling the attention of the helmsman to + the interesting tableau going on behind him. Quickly he gagged Mr. Schultz + with a strip of canvas; then he tied his hands behind him and bound him at + ankle and knee with the short lengths of signal halyard. As a final + attention he “frisked” the mate and removed his keys and a heavy automatic + pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Lie there now, me jewel,” he said, and trotted out to the starboard end + of the bridge, whistling shrilly “God Save the King.” When the swift + patter of feet along the deck warned him that the steward was coming, he + walked back amidships and opened the little sliding trap in the roof of + the pilot-house, which on the <i>Narcissus</i> was set just below the + bridge. The quartermaster's head was directly beneath the trap. “Oh-ho, me + laddybuck!” Mr. Reardon murmured, and dropped his padded monkey wrench on + that defenseless head. Instantly the quartermaster staggered and hung + limply to the wheel. + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to me, I'll have to hit ye agin,” Mr. Reardon complained—and + did it. Then he slid through the trap into the pilot-house, steadied the + wheel with one hand and unlocked the pilot-house door with the other to + admit the steward. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me pink!” that astounded functionary exclaimed as he gazed at the + quartermaster lying beside the wheel. + </p> + <p> + “I will—if ye don't take howld av this wheel an' do less talkln',” + Mr. Reardon replied evenly. “Bring her round very slowly, me lad, an' in + the intherval I'll wrap up me little Baby Bunting on the floor forninst + ye.” + </p> + <p> + When the quartermaster had been duly wrapped <i>a la</i> Mr. Schultz and + dragged clear of the wheel, Mr. Reardon returned to the bridge and with + brazen impudence set the handle of the marine telegraph over to full speed + ahead. He hummed “Colleen Dhas Cruthin Amoe” as with a light heart he + skipped down to the galley and found the look-out eating bread soaked in + coffee. Mr. Reardon nodded and said “Good nicht, <i>amigo</i>” for his + voyages had taken him to many ports and he was naturally quick at picking + up foreign languages. The fellow, concluding Mr. Reardon desired a cup of + coffee also, turned to the rack to get him a cup. + </p> + <p> + “How dare ye ate up the owners' groceries in this shameful manner?” Mr. + Reardon demanded. “Do ye not get enough at mess that ye must be atin' + between meals? Shame on you—” + </p> + <p> + One tap did the trick. “'Tis a black way to repay a kind t'ought,” Mr. + Reardon observed to his victim as he bound and gagged him; “but war is + war, an' a faint heart an' a weak stomach never shtole a ship back from + forty German pirates!” + </p> + <p> + He closed the galley door on the unfortunate look-out and climbed up on + the boat deck to get Michael J. Murphy out of prison. Cautiously he + unlocked the state-room door with the key taken from Mr. Schultz, and the + skipper came forth. Mr. Reardon led him under an electric light and gazed + upon him wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Begorra, Michael, me poor lad,” he whispered, “be the look av the white + face of you I'm thinkin' ye ought to be in bed instid av out raisin' + ructions.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm weak; I have a fever,” Murphy replied. “Still, half that fever may be + plain lunatic rage. Did you find a gun on the mate?” + </p> + <p> + “I did. Take it, Michael, I'll have nothin' to do wit' it.” + </p> + <p> + The skipper grasped the weapon eagerly. “The ship is headed due west + undher full speed,” Terence explained, “an' the mate, the quarter-master + an' the look-out have all received evidence av me affectionate regard. + Next!” + </p> + <p> + “Von Staden. He kicked me and broke my ribs, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Wit' the greatest joy in life, Michael. The skut's busy in the wireless + room.” + </p> + <p> + So they went to the wireless room. Von Staden was taking a message as they + entered; at sound of their footsteps he turned carelessly and found + himself looking down the muzzle of the captain's automatic. + </p> + <p> + “Will ye take it peaceably, ye gossoon, or must I brain ye wit' this + monkey wrench?” Mr. Reardon queried fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “And take your hand off that key, you blackguard. No S O S,” Murphy + ordered. + </p> + <p> + The supercargo stared at them impudently. “This,” he said presently, “is + one of those inconceivable contingencies.” + </p> + <p> + “Your early education was neglected, Dutchy. However, don't complain and + say I didn't give you warning. Terence!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Michael?” + </p> + <p> + “All well-regulated ships carry a few sets of handcuffs and leg irons. If + you will put your hand in my right hip pocket, Terence, lad, you'll find a + pair for present emergencies. They were in my desk and I concluded to + bring them along.” + </p> + <p> + “An' a pious t'ought it was, Michael.” + </p> + <p> + So they handcuffed Herr August Carl von Staden and gagged him, after which + Mr. Reardon, leaving the skipper to guard his prisoner, ran round to his + own room and got the two lengths of chain and the padlocks. When he + returned, Michael J. Murphy kicked his unwelcome supercargo to the mate's + store-room and Mr. Reardon locked him in among the paint pots, pipe, old + iron and other odds and ends which accumulate in a mate's store-room. + </p> + <p> + They went next to the door of the forecastle. It was open—and, what + was better, it opened inward. Also, it was of steel with a stout brass + ring on the lock, this ring taking the place of what on a landsman's door + would have been a knob. + </p> + <p> + Terence Reardon and Michael J. Murphy listened. From within came a medley + of gentle sighs, snores and the slow, regular breathing of sleeping men. + Softly Mr. Reardon closed the door, turned the ring until the latch + caught, drew a section of chain through the ring in such a manner as to + prevent the latch from being released, passed the ends of his chain round + the steel handrail along the front of the forecastle and padlocked them + there. + </p> + <p> + “Now, thin,” Mr. Reardon announced, “that takes care av the carpenter, the + bos'n, four seamen, two waiters an' the mess bhoy. Do ye wait here a + minute, Michael, lad, whilst I run up on the bridge and give that + unmintionable Schultz the wanst over.” + </p> + <p> + The weak, half-dead Murphy sat down on the hatch coaming and waited. The + chief was away about ten minutes and the captain was on the point of + investigating when Mr. Reardon appeared. + </p> + <p> + “That unfortunate divil had come to, an' was lookin' an' feelin' cowld + whin I wint up on the bridge,” he explained, “so I wint to me room an' got + a pair av blankets to wrap round him where he lay. It's wan thing to tap a + man on the head, but 'tis another to let him catch his death av cowld.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Murphy smiled. Ordinarily he would have laughed at the whimsical + Terence, but he didn't have a good laugh left in him. His lung was + hurting, so he suspected an abscess. + </p> + <p> + They returned to the boat deck, and with his rule Mr. Reardon carefully + measured the exact distance between the ship's rail and the center of the + doors of the state-rooms occupied by the mates and assistant engineers. + This detail attended to, they went to the carpenter's little shop and cut + two scantlings of a length to correspond to the measurements taken, and in + addition Mr. Reardon prepared some thin cleats with countersunk holes for + the insertion of screws. He worked very leisurely, and it was eleven + o'clock when he had everything in readiness. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothin' to do now until midnight, whin the watch in the ingine + room is changed,” Mr. Reardon suggested, “so lave us go to the galley. Wan + av me brave lads is in there, an' if he's not dead intirely, faith, I'm + thinkin' I might injoy a cup av coffee!” + </p> + <p> + So they went to the galley and found the look-out glaring at them. He made + inarticulate noises behind his gag, so Mr. Reardon, much relieved, found + seats for each of them and poured coffee. Then he filled his pipe, crossed + his right leg over his left knee and puffed away. He was the speaking + likeness of Contentment. And well he might be. + </p> + <p> + The first assistant engineer had been driving the <i>Narcissus</i> for an + hour at full speed at right angles to the course he believed she was + pursuing. He would, being totally ignorant of the change of masters, + continue to drive her at full speed until midnight, when he would come off + watch, tired and sleepy, and go straight to his state-room. The second + assistant would go direct from his state-room to duty in the engine-room + and continue to drive the <i>Narcissus</i> at full speed until four + o'clock, and inasmuch as it would be quite dark still when the third + assistant came on at four o'clock to relieve the engineer on watch, there + was not the slightest doubt in the minds of Murphy and the chief but that + the deception could go on until breakfast. However, that would interfere + with their plans. Long before that hour the men locked in the forecastle + would have discovered their plight, and the noise of the discovery might + reach below decks and bring up, to investigate, just a few more husky + firemen and coal passers than even the redoubtable Terence Reardon could + hope to cope with successfully. + </p> + <p> + “By four o'clock we'll be more than fifty miles off the course Schultz was + holding her on,” the captain suggested. “In all likelihood the German + admiral wirelessed his last position and the course he was steering, and + von Staden gave Schultz his course accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, we're not a moment too soon at that,” Mr. Reardon replied. + “Schultz was lookin' for searchlights whin I tapped him. Be the Toe Nails + av Moses ye're right, Michael. We'll be so far off that course be daylight + they won't even see our shmoke. D'ye think that little handful av bones, + Riggins, can manage the wheel until we've claned up the ingine-room gang? + We can relieve him wit' wan av the Chinamen then.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him he'll have to stick it out. And by the way, Terence, come to + think of it, you had better run forward and remove the sidelights; then + unscrew all of the incandescent lamps on deck until the contact is lost. + You can screw them in again just before the watch is changed, so they + won't suspect anything, and unscrew them again after we have the watch + under lock and key. The fleet may be too far away to see our smoke by + daylight, but they may be close enough to see our lights to-night! Tell + Riggins to darken the pilot-house. The binnacle light is enough to keep + him company.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for ye,” Terence replied, and hurried away to carry out Murphy's + instructions. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + At twelve o'clock the second assistant engineer, hurrying along the deck + to relieve the first assistant on watch, found Mr. Reardon leaning over + the rail meditatively puffing his old briar pipe. In answer to the + former's query as to what kept the chief up so late, the latter replied + that he was burning sulphur in his room to kill bedbugs. + </p> + <p> + “The good Lord forgive me the lie,” he prayed when a few minutes later he + was called upon by the first assistant, hurrying off watch, to repeat the + same tale. + </p> + <p> + The first assistant and his watch had a shower-bath and turned in. They + were not interested in the workings of the deck department in the dark; + they could not know that the vessel's course had been changed; they + thought only of getting to sleep. Mr. Reardon waited until one-thirty A. + M. to provide against possible sleepless ones, and then crept aft on + velvet feet. The <i>Narcissus</i> had very commodious quarters in her + stern, where her coolie crew had been housed in the days when she ran in + the China trade; and when the Blue Star Navigation Company took her over + these quarters had been fitted up to accommodate the engine room crew. In + the same manner, therefore, that he had imprisoned the men of the deck + department in the forecastle, Mr. Reardon now proceeded to imprison the + men of the engine department in the sterncastle. This delicate mission + accomplished, he went up top-side and measured the diameter of the + ventilators, in order to make certain that the thinnest of his German + canaries could not fly the cage via that difficult route. Having satisfied + himself that he had no need to worry on this score, he made his way + forward again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Michael, me poor lad,” he announced as he rejoined the skipper, + “I'll tell you wan thing—an' it isn't two. The crew av the <i>Narcissus</i> + off watch at this minute will never come on watch ag'in—in the <i>Narcissus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The skipper smiled wanly. “I'm sorry you must take all the risks and do + all the work, Terence,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Gwan wit' ye, Michael. Sure if I had a head on me like you, an' a college + edication in back av that ag'in, I'd be out playin' golf this minute wit' + Andhrew Carnegie an' Jawn D. Rockefeller—ayther that, or I'd have + been hung for walkin' away wit' the Treasury Buildin'.” + </p> + <p> + They discussed the remaining details of that portion of the ship cleaning + still before them. “Remember, Terence,” Mike Murphy warned the chief, + “when the blow-off comes at four o'clock and the uproar commences fore and + aft, we have the means to keep them quiet. I'll go forward and you go aft. + When we threaten to throw burning sulphur down the ventilators and + suffocate them, they'll sing soft and low!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon chuckled. “An' Schultz t'ought I was afther bedbugs whin I + asked the shteward for the sulphur,” he replied. “Shtill an' all, + Michael,” he added, a trifle wistfully, “I could wish for a bit more + excitement, considerin' the size av the job.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Terry, you may get it yet. I'm dizzy and weak, chief; I'm + fearful I'll not be able to last out the night—and these Germans are + desperate. Suppose we go forward now, while I'm able, and awaken Mr. + Henckel. It's high time he relieved Mr. Schultz, and he'll be waking + naturally if we let him oversleep much longer.” + </p> + <p> + The subjugation of Mr. Henckel was accomplished without the slightest + excitement or bloodshed. Mr. Reardon rapped at his door and Mr. Henckel + replied sleepily in German. The skipper and the chief merely lurked, one + on each side of his state-room door, until he stepped briskly out; + whereupon the captain jabbed him with the gun while Mr. Reardon shook the + monkey wrench under his nose. Indeed, Mr. Reardon had the gag in the + second mate's mouth even while it hung open in surprise. They bound him + hand and foot, and Mr. Reardon picked him up and tucked him gently in his + berth, for, as the chief remarked to him, he was as safe there as anywhere + and far more comfortable, although Mike Murphy objected and was for + putting him in the mate's store-room with von Staden, whom they had put in + the dirtiest and most unwholesome spot aboard the <i>Narcissus</i>, for + two reasons: In the first place, he had kicked Michael J. Murphy and shot + him through the shoulder; and in the second place, he was the cleanest + German and the most wholesome pirate they had ever seen, and they figured + the contrast would annoy him. Mr. Reardon, however, objected to this plan. + He argued that von Staden would be glad of Mr. Henckel's company, and was + it not their original intention to keep that laddybuck von Staden in + solitary confinement? It was. They closed the state-room door on Mr. + Henckel, and left him to meditate on his sins while they repaired to the + carpenter's little shop, to return to the boat deck presently with the + scantlings and cleats Mr. Reardon had prepared. + </p> + <p> + With the scantling the chief shored up the doors to the state-room + occupied respectively at the time by the first and third assistant + engineers; then he screwed the cleats into place at top and bottom, so the + scantling could not slip. Not for worlds would he have used a hammer to + nail them into place, for that would have spoiled the surprise for the + objects of his attentions. Throughout the entire operation he was as + silent as a burglar, although by way of additional precaution the captain + stood by with drawn pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Now thin, Michael,” Mr. Reardon whispered as they pussy-footed away, + “there are six fine Germans below in the ingine room, an' two Irishmen an' + half an Englishman on deck. The Chinee cooks don't count, for sure the + poor heathens would only get excited and turrn somebody loose if we asked + them to do anything desperate. And, as ye know, wan good Irishman—and + bad luck to the man that says I am not that—can keep a hundhred + Germans from comin' up out av that ingine room. Go to yer bed, Michael, + an' lie down until I call ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Better take this automatic,” Murphy suggested, and showed him how to use + it. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Reardon resolutely refused to abandon his monkey wrench, although + he consented to carry the automatic to Riggins in the pilot-house. The + estimable Riggins had been steering a somewhat erratic course, for he + found it impossible to keep his eye on the lubber's mark while the bound + quartermaster glared balefully at him from the floor. Indeed Riggins had + been pondering his fate should that husky Teuton ever get the upper hand + again; hence, when he found himself in a state of preparedness and was + informed that he must stick by the wheel until relieved, the prospect did + not awe him in the least. The present odds were counterbalanced by the + strategic position held by the minority, and Riggins was content. + </p> + <p> + On his way back to his state-room, there to rest until the final call to + arms, Michael J. Murphy concluded it would be well to search the quarters + of the second mate and Herr von Staden for contraband of war. So he did, + with the result that he unearthed in von Staden's room the rifle and + revolver which belonged to the <i>Narcissus</i>, and under the second + mate's pillow he found another automatic pistol. He confiscated all three + weapons by right of discovery, and hid the rifle in the galley, the last + place anybody would think of looking for it. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Mr. Reardon proceeded further to strengthen his position + by closing the port entrance to the engine room and shoring up the door + with a stout scantling, cleated at top and bottom to hold it securely in + place. Then he donned Mr. Schultz's heavy watchcoat, dragged round from + the lee of the house the upholstered easy-chair Mrs. Reardon had insisted + upon his taking to sea with him for use in his leisure moments, placed + this chair on deck just outside the starboard entrance to the engine room, + loaded his pipe, laid his trusty monkey wrench across his knee and gave + himself up to the contemplation of this riot we call life. He resembled a + cat watching beside a gopher hole. By half-past three o'clock he had + finished figuring out approximately the amount of money Mrs. Reardon would + have in the Hibernia Bank at the end of five years—figuring on a + monthly saving of fifty dollars and interest compounded at the rate of + four per cent. So, having satisfied himself that Johnny would yet be a + lawyer and the girls learn to play the piano, Mr. Reardon heaved a sigh + and reluctantly went to call Michael J. Murphy for the final accounting. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + At ten minutes to four Mr. Uhl, the second assistant, a man of some thirty + years and ordinarily possessed of a disposition as placid as that of a + little Jersey heifer, ordered one of his firemen to go and call the watch + to relieve them. Mr. Reardon, his monkey wrench firmly grasped in his + right hand, knew that at exactly ten minutes to four Mr. Uhl would issue + that order—so he was on the spot to receive the fireman as the + latter came leisurely up the greasy steel stairway. As the fellow emerged + on deck he paused to wipe his heated brow with a sweat rag and draw in a + welcome breath of cool fresh air. He did not succeed in getting his lungs + quite full, however, for Michael J. Murphy, lurking beside the door, + thrust the barrel of his gun in the fireman's ribs, effectually curtailing + the process of respiration practically at once. From the other side of the + door the chief engineer stepped out and wagged his bludgeon under the + fireman's nose. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ach!</i>” Mr. Reardon coughed, and grimaced pleasantly. “<i>Schmierkase + und Sauerkraut</i>, ye big shtiff! <i>Vat wilse du haben</i>, eh? <i>Zwei + bier?</i> Damn the weather, as Misther Schultz would say.” + </p> + <p> + He laid his finger on his lips, enjoining silence; then with the same + finger he pointed sternly onward, and the fireman took the hint. In the + clear space aft the house and next to the funnel Mr. Reardon bound and + gagged him and laid him tenderly on his back to await developments. + </p> + <p> + “Now thin, Michael,” he said to the skipper, “lave us go back an' see can + we catch another. At four o'clock, whin this lad fails to return, Misther + Uhl, the omadhaun, will sind up another man to see what the divil ails the + firrst man.” + </p> + <p> + And it was even so. This time it was the oiler. + </p> + <p> + At five minutes after four a coal passer came up the stairs, and he was + swearing at the delay in being relieved. Something told Mr. Reardon this + fellow would make trouble, so without warning he hit the coal passer a + light rap “to take the conceit out av him.” Two minutes later the coal + passer had joined his fellows beside the funnel. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter after four Mr. Uhl scratched his head and said something very + explosive in German. He started up the stairs, got halfway up—and + came down. It had occurred to him very suddenly that three men had already + gone up the stairs and had failed to return. He called a fireman and gave + him some very explicit orders in German; whereupon the man disappeared in + the shaft alley. Five minutes later he returned, pop-eyed with excitement + and the bearer of a tale that caused Mr. Uhl to arch his blond eyebrows + and murmur dazedly “<i>So?</i>” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes passed. Mr. Reardon glanced interrogatively at Michael J. + Murphy. “I think the divils are suspicious,” he whispered. “We should have + had another be now. Have a care now, Michael. Whin they come they come + wit' a rush an'—” + </p> + <p> + A pistol shot echoed through the ship. It came up from forward. Three more + followed in rapid succession—a scream—a shout! + </p> + <p> + “May the divil damn me!” Terence Reardon cried in a horrified voice. “I + clane forgot the little companion hatch at the ind av the shaft alley. + They've crawled down the shaft alley an' up on deck at the very sterrn av + the ship!” + </p> + <p> + He dashed aft towards the spot where his prisoners were laid out close to + the funnel. As he turned the corner of the house he observed that the + electric lamp which he had so carefully screwed out of its socket had been + screwed in again, and by its light Terence beheld no less a person than + Mr. Uhl cutting the halyards that bound the oiler. The fireman had already + been cut loose, but the potent effects of Terence Reardon's blow with the + wrench still remained; though conscious, the man was unfit for combat. The + coal passer, evidently the first man to be rescued by Mr. Uhl, was + standing by. + </p> + <p> + “Gower that, ye divils!” Mr. Reardon shrieked, and charged, swinging his + monkey wrench with all his horsepower. He missed his first stroke at Mr. + Uhl, who very deftly stabbed him high up on the hip for his carelessness; + then the chief swung again, and Mr. Uhl was out of the fight. + </p> + <p> + Not so the big coal passer, however. He planted in Terence Reardon's face + as pretty a left and right—hay-makers both—as one could hope + to see anywhere outside a prize-ring; whereupon the chief took the count + with great abruptness. The fireman reached for the monkey wrench—and + at that instant the weak, pale-faced skipper lurched around the corner of + the house and his automatic commenced to bark. + </p> + <p> + It was not a time for sentiment. Michael J. Murphy glanced once at Terence + Reardon's bloody, upturned face, and the glazed eyes thrilled him with + horror. The chief engineer was dead! That meant that Michael J. Murphy + would soon be dead, too. Well, they had fought a good fight and lost, so + nothing now remained for him to do save slaughter as many of the enemy as + possible and go to his accounting like a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + He turned his back on the heap of bloody, prostrate men, stepped over a + little rivulet of gore that ran rapidly toward the scupper as the ship + heeled to port, then hesitated and started back as she heeled to + starboard. He was vaguely conscious that Mr. Uhl had shut down his engines + before coming on deck and that in consequence the ship had lost headway + and was beginning to wallow. In his weak state her plunging caused him to + stagger like a drunken man. As he crossed to the port side of the ship and + gazed down the deck he noticed that the incandescent lamps had all been + screwed back in their sockets, and by their brilliant light he beheld one + of the firemen in the act of removing the scantling from before the first + assistant's door. Just as the door swung open the captain fired, but + evidently missed, for the man sprang nimbly into the state-room for + safety. + </p> + <p> + If the great European War has proved nothing else to date, it has + demonstrated one comforting thing about the German people: one does not + grow impatient waiting for them to carry the fight to him. The fireman had + no sooner entered the first assistant's state-room than the first + assistant came out. He was wearing his pajamas and a piece of young + artillery, and without the slightest embarrassment he commenced shooting + at Michael J. Murphy, who, not to be outdone in politeness while he could + stand and see, promptly returned the compliment. + </p> + <p> + The first assistant's first shot nipped a neat little crescent out of Mike + Murphy's large red right ear; his second ripped clean through the inside + of the skipper's left leg. + </p> + <p> + “High and then low,” was the thought that capered through Mike Murphy's + brain. “God grant he don't get me through the middle! That's what comes of + fast shooting—so I guess I'll go slow.” + </p> + <p> + The electric lamp over his head was shattered and the fragments scattered + round him as he leaned against the corner of the house and took careful + aim at the first assistant, who missed his next shot by a whisker and died + in his tracks with two cartridges still in his gun. + </p> + <p> + Dazedly Michael J. Murphy advanced along the deck, stepped over the body + and entered the state-room. In the corner the fireman crouched, hands + uplifted in token of surrender, so the skipper closed the door and shored + it up again with the scantling. Mechanically he picked up the first + assistant's huge revolver, broke it, removed the cartridges and threw them + overboard. Then he slipped a clip of seven cartridges into his automatic + and staggered round to Mr. Henckel's state room. + </p> + <p> + The door was open. The bird had flown. + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy went in and sat down on Mr. Henckel's settee, for he was + very weak and dizzy; and at least nobody could shoot at him in there. + “Come, come, Michael,” he croaked, “no going out this voyage. You have + work ahead of you. Pull yourself together and let us count noses. Now + then, there were two firemen, two coal passers, one oiler and Mr. Uhl on + watch. Terence killed Mr. Uhl with the monkey wrench, I killed the big + coal passer, I think I killed the oiler, and one fireman was out of the + scrap from the beginning. Then I killed the first assistant and locked the + other fireman in his room. That leaves Mr. Henckel and a coal passer to be + reckoned with. Now there was some shooting up forward and somebody was + hit. That means Riggins shot somebody or somebody shot Riggins. The second + mate probably went forward to let the men out of the forecastle, while the + fireman went aft to let the engine-room gang out of the sterncastle. They + haven't had time to do it yet; they'll have to pry those rings out of the + door with a crowbar. I'll go aft and drive the fireman forward; when I + have them bunched I'll argue with them.” + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the break of the house and looked down on the deck aft. The + lights had been turned on and a man was just raising a short crowbar to + attack the door, from behind which came shouts and cries of anger and + consternation. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy rested his automatic on the deck rail and fired twice at the + man in front of the sterncastle door. The fellow fled at once dashing + along the deck, zigzag fashion, to distract the skipper's aim, and + disappeared in the dark entrance to the starboard alleyway. So Michael J. + Murphy slid down the companion and followed into the alleyway, firing two + shots for luck as he came. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had he disappeared into the murk amidships when Terence Reardon + rolled groggily down the companion after him. Terence had no means of + ascertaining which alleyway the skipper had charged into—and he did + not care. Blind with fury he lurched into the port alleyway; in + consequence of which the fugitive, fleeing ahead of the captain down the + starboard alleyway and thinking to turn down the port alleyway and double + back to complete his labors at the sterncastle door, bumped squarely into + the chief engineer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon said no word, but wrapped his arms round the man and held the + latter close to his breast. + </p> + <p> + Thus for a moment they stood, gripping each other, each wondering whether + the other was friend or foe. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Reardon decided that even if his nose was bloody he could not + possibly be mistaken in the odor of a fireman just come off watch. He had + lost his monkey wrench in the <i>melee</i> on the upper deck—the + defunct Mr. Uhl having fallen upon it, thereby obscuring it from Mr. + Reardon's very much befogged vision, but his soul was still undaunted, for + Mr. Reardon, in common with most chief engineers still in their prime, + firmly believed that he could trounce any fireman he saw fit to employ. He + bit suddenly into the fireman's cheek just where the flesh droops in a + fold over the lower jaw, and was fortunate enough to secure a grip that + bade fair to hold; then he crooked his leg at the back of his opponent's + and slowly shoved the fellow's head backward. They came down together, Mr. + Reardon on top, content for once to hold his man helpless—and rest—while + his enemy's shrieks of pain and rage resounded through the ink-black + alleyway. + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy heard that uproar and halted. After listening a few + seconds he came to the conclusion that a German was in deep distress, and + that hence it was no part of his business to interfere. Besides, he had + business of his own to attend to. He could hear a chain rattling up + forward, and while it was too dark to see who or what was doing the + rattling, he found Mr. Henckel guilty on mere suspicion, and fired at the + sound; whereupon somebody said “<i>Ach, Gott!</i>” in tones of deep + disgust, two little flashes of fire cut the dark, and two bullets + whispered of death as they flew harmlessly down the alleyway. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Mike Murphy returned the salute, firing at the other's flashes; + then he fell to the deck and rolled over into the scupper to escape the + return fire, which was not slow in coming. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder where the devil he got that gun,” was Murphy's comment. “Mr. Uhl + must have had it in his pocket and lent it to him.” + </p> + <p> + There was profound silence within the forecastle, and pending the + destruction of his attacker Mr. Henckel judged it imprudent to make any + further attempts at a delivery. He required time to formulate a plan of + attack, and in the interim he desired shelter. Mike Murphy heard the + patter of feet, the patter ceasing almost as soon as it commenced—and + he smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “He's hiding,” the captain soliloquized. “Now, where would I take shelter + if I were in his fix? Why, back of the hatch-coaming, of course—or + the winch.” He had a sudden inspiration and called aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Riggins! Riggins! Answer me, Riggins. This is Captain Murphy calling + you.” + </p> + <p> + “'Ere, sir,” came the voice of Riggins from the pilot-house above. The + voice was very weak. + </p> + <p> + “Climb out of the pilot-house, Riggins, to the bridge, turn on the + searchlight and bend it down here on the deck till I get a shot at this + scoundrel. Don't be afraid of him, Riggins. It's Henckel and he can't + shoot for beans. Get the light fair on him and keep it on him; it'll blind + him and he won't be able to shoot you.” + </p> + <p> + “The dirty dawg!” snarled Riggins wearily. “'E come up on the bridge a + while—ago—an' I drove 'im off—but 'e plugged me, sir—through + the guts, sir—an' me a married man! Wot in 'ell'll my ol' woman—say—” + </p> + <p> + And that was the last word Riggins ever spoke. True, he managed to crawl + out of the pilot-house and up the short companion to the bridge; he + reached the searchlight, and while Mr. Henckel and Mike Murphy swapped + shots below him he turned on the switch. + </p> + <p> + “Bend it on the deck, Riggins. On the deck, my bully, on the deck,” Mike + Murphy pleaded as the great beam of white light shot skyward and remained + there; nor could all of Murphy's pleading induce Riggins to bend it on the + deck, for Riggins was lying dead beside the searchlight, while ten miles + away an officer on the flying bridge of H.M.S. Panther watched that finger + of light pointing and beckoning with each roll of the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Something awf'lly queer, what?” he commented when reporting it to his + superior. + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” the superior replied laconically. “It can't be the Dresden and + neither is it one of ours. We'll skip over and have a look at her, Reggie, + my son.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy had two shots left in his automatic, and he was saving + those for daylight and Mr. Henckel's rush, when a searchlight came + nickering and feeling its way across the dark waters. Slowly, slowly it + lifted and rested on the big blunt bows of the <i>Narcissus</i>, hovered + there a few seconds and came slowly aft, and as it lighted up the main + deck Mr. Henckel rose from behind the hatch-coaming. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Deutschland uber Alles!</i>” he yelled joyously—and rushed. + </p> + <p> + Terence Reardon, having pounded his firemen into insensibility, had crept + down the port alleyway, and, unknown to Captain Murphy and Mr. Henckel, he + had, from the opposite side of the deck, watched the flashes of their + pistols as they fired at each other. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to flank that fella an' put a shtop to this nonsense,” Mr. + Reardon decided presently, and forthwith crept across the deck on his + hands and knees until he reached the hatch-coaming. Mr. Henckel lurked + just round the other corner of the coaming, so close Mr. Reardon could + hear him breathing. And there the crafty chief had waited until Mr. + Henckel rose for his charge—whereupon Mr. Reardon rose also. + </p> + <p> + “Ireland upper always, ye vagabone!” he yelled, and launched himself at + Mr. Henckel's knees. It was a perfect tackle and the second mate went down + heavily. + </p> + <p> + In an emergency such as the present all Terence Reardon asked was good + fighting light. Fighting in the dark distressed him, he discovered, for + while polishing off the fireman in the black alleyway he had missed one + punch at the fellow's head, and had been reminded to his sorrow and the + ruin of his knuckles, that the deck of the Narcissus was of good Norway + pine. However, H.M.S. Panther was scarcely three cable lengths distant + now, and the officer on her flying bridge could see that some sort of a + jolly row was in progress on the deck of the Narcissus; so he kept the + searchlight on the combatants while Mr. Reardon bent Mr. Henckel's back + over the hatch-coaming, took his automatic away from him, and proceeded to + take a cast of the mate's features in the vulcanite butt of the weapon. + And vulcanite is far from soft! + </p> + <p> + When Terence Reardon had completed his self-appointed task he stood up, + hitched his dungarees, spat blood on the deck, and stood waving from side + to side like a dancing bear. His face was unrecognizable; his dungarees, + so neat and clean when he donned them the night before, were now one vast + smear of red, and he grinned horribly, for he was war mad! + </p> + <p> + “Next!” he croaked, and turned to the master for orders. + </p> + <p> + But Michael Joseph Murphy was out of the fight. He lay prone on the deck, + conscious but helpless, and because his broken rib was tickling his lung + the froth on his lips bore a little tinge of pink. Only his eyes moved—and + they smiled at Terence Reardon as the triumphant exiles of Erin faced each + other. + </p> + <p> + Terence Reardon turned and shook his battered fists full into the rays of + the searchlight. He was magnificent for one brief instant; then the + war-madness left him, and again he was plain, faithful, whimsical, + capable, honest Terence P. Reardon, chief engineer of the S.S. Narcissus, + who considered it a pleasure to discourse on the fairies when he had + nothing more important to do. Now that the fight was over and the German + fleet had overhauled them at last, he had time to think of Mrs. Reardon + and the children and his best job gone for ever—tossed into the + discard with his honor as a faithful servant. + </p> + <p> + He sat down very suddenly on the hatch-coaming and covered his terrible + face with his terrible hands. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Norah! Norah!” he cried—and sobbed as if his heart must break. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + When Captain the Hon. Desmond O'Hara, of H.M.S. Panther, boarded the + steamer Narcissus via the Jacob's ladder Mr. Reardon hove overside at his + command, he paused a moment, balanced on the ship's rail, and stared. + </p> + <p> + “My word!” he said, and leaped to the deck, to make room for a + pink-and-white middy. The pink-and-white one stared and said “My aunt!” + Then he, too, leaped to the deck, and a stocky cockney blue-jacket poked + his nose over the rail. + </p> + <p> + “Damn my eyes!” said this individual. “'Ere's a bloomin' mess!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that person?” Captain Desmond O'Hara demanded, pointing to the + semiconscious Mr. Henckel, who was moaning and saying things in his mother + tongue. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Mr. Reardon with a familiar wink, “was a fine, decent German + until I operated on him!” + </p> + <p> + “So I observed. And who might you be?” + </p> + <p> + “Me name is Terence P. Reardon, an' I'm the chief engineer av the United + Shtates steamer <i>Narcissus</i>, av San Francisco.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! An Irish-American, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon looked down at the deck, smiled a cunning little smile and + looked up at Captain O'Hara. “Well, sor,” he declared, “I had me hyphen + wit' me whin I shipped; as late as yestherd'y afthernoon 'twas in good + worrkin' ordher; but what wit' the exertion av chasin' our Gerrman crew + round the decks, faith I've lost me hyphen, an' I'm thinkin' the skipper's + lost his too. That's him forninst ye. For the prisent he's in dhrydock + awaitin' repairs, which leaves me in command av the ship. And since he's + in no condition to go to his shtate-room an' unlock the ship's safe, an' + sorra wan av me knows the combination, the divil a look will ye have at + our papers. I'll save time an' throuble for us all be tellin' ye now that + we've ten t'ousand tons av soft coal undher deck, that we cleared from + Norfolk, Virginia, for Manila or Batavia, Pernambuco for ordhers, an' that + we're a couple av t'ousand miles off our course. So confiscate the ship + an' be damned to ye! Only I'm hopin' ye'll not be above takin' a bit av + advice from wan who knows. There's a Gerrman fleet not far off, an' if ye + shtop to monkey wit' us, faith ye may live to regret it—an' ye may + not.” + </p> + <p> + Captain the Hon. Desmond O'Hara smiled sweetly. “Divil a fear,” he said, + in no way cast down. “We met the beggars off the Falklands yesterday and + sunk them all but the Dresden. She slipped away from us in the dark, + making for the mainland, and we were looking for her when we saw your + searchlight cutting up such queer didos, so the Panther dropped behind to + investigate. Had it not been for your searchlight we would have missed + you.” + </p> + <p> + “An' be the same token a little dead Englishman signalled ye.” Mr. Reardon + gave another hitch to his dungarees. “Sor,” he said doggedly, “I never + t'ought I'd live to see the day I'd want to cheer a British victh'ry—but + I do.” He glanced down at his right hand and shook his head. “Englishmen + that ye are,” he continued, “I'll not offer ye a hand like that—much + as I want to shake hands wit' ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, don't let that worry you, Mr. Reardon. I'm not an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “In the divil's name, you're not an—an—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm an Irishman! My name is Desmond O'Hara.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon was fully aware that here was a grand specimen of the kind of + Irish he had been taught to despise—the Irish that take the king's + shilling, the gentlemen Irish that lead the king's cockneys into battle. + And yet, strange to say, no thought of that entered his head now. He + stepped up to Captain O'Hara, looked round cautiously as if expecting to + be overheard, winked knowingly and whispered, as he jerked a significant + thumb toward the unhappy Mr. Henckel: “Sure 'tis the likes av us that can + take the measure av the likes av thim.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied Captain O'Hara, and reached for Terry Reardon's awful + hand. “It is!” + </p> + <p> + Together they lifted Michael J. Murphy into a boson's chair, the jackies + unslung a cargo derrick, Mr. Reardon went to the winch, and the skipper + was hoisted overside into the <i>Panther's</i> boat and taken aboard the + warship for medical attention. Just before Mr. Reardon hoisted him he drew + the chief's ear down to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “About von Staden,” he whispered. “I thought I wanted to see him hung. + Legally he's a pirate; but, Terence, he was raised wrong; you know, + Terence—<i>Deutschland ueber Alles</i>. These Dutch devils thought + it was all right to steal our ship—national necessity, you know. Let + von Staden out of the mate's store-room and tell him the English have us—that + his fleet is gone. Then turn your back on him, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon followed orders. “Captain Murphy ordhered me to let ye out,” + he explained to the supercargo, “an' towld me to turrn me back on ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Please thank him for me,” von Staden replied gently. “I scarcely expected + such kindness at his hands. You may turn your back now, Mr. Reardon.” + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Reardon turned his back, and, despite the rush of the British + jackies to stop him, Herr August Carl von Staden reached the rail. “<i>Deutschland + ueber Alles!</i>” he shouted defiantly—and jumped. He did not come + up. + </p> + <p> + Captain the Hon. Desmond O'Hara removed his cap. “They die so infernally + well,” he said presently, “one hates to fight them—individually. + Yesterday the <i>Nuernberg</i> fell to us. We outranged her, and when she + was out of action and sinking, with her men swimming and drowning all + round her, the <i>Panther</i> was stripped of life preservers in two + minutes. Some of my lads went overboard to help the Boche.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reardon remembered he had wrapped waste round the head of his monkey + wrench and curtailed his indicated horse-power when tapping individuals; + yet, when he fought them in bulk, with what savage joy had he struck down + Mr. Uhl, a poor, inoffensive devil and the victim of a false ideal of + national honor! Mr. Reardon was quite sure he despised Englishmen; yet the + tears came to his eyes when the jackies carried poor little Riggins away + from the searchlight, and he prayed for eternal rest for the soul of his + late assistants, for he had learned in a night, as he fought with tooth + and fist and monkey wrench, what those who fight with tongue and + typewriter will never learn—that racial and religious animosities + are just a pitiful human bugaboo—in bulk. Only that valiant minority + that sheds its blood for the heartless majority can ever know this great + truth—and the pity of it—that warriors never hate each other. + </p> + <p> + They are too generous for that. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Capt. Matt Peasley, with his heart in his throat, called up the British + consul at San Francisco. Cappy Ricks, looking very pale and unhappy, + sagged in his chair, while Mr. Skinner stood by, gnawing his nails and + looking as if he would relish being kicked from one end of California + Street to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” Matt Peasley began. Cappy Ricks shuddered and closed his eyes. + “Is this the British consul's office?... This is Captain Peasley, of the + Blue Star Navigation Company... Yes... About our steamer <i>Narcissus</i>... + You say the consul is on his way down to our office... Thank you... + Goodbye.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks sighed like an old air-compressor. “I hope I live till he gets + here,” he declared feebly. “Deliberate race, the British. No pep. Never + get anywhere in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + As if to give the lie to Cappy's criticisms, the British consul was + admitted at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he announced as the heart-broken trio gathered round him, “I + have some very grave news for you.” His voice was vaguely reminiscent of + that of the foreman in a quarry who calls upon a lady to inform her that + her husband has just been caught in a premature blast and that the boys + will be up with the pieces directly. “Your steamer <i>Narcissus</i>, + loaded with ten thousand tons of coal, has been captured a hundred miles + north-east of the Falkland Islands by His Majesty's cruiser <i>Panther</i>. + In view of your vessel's clearance—” + </p> + <p> + A low moan broke from Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “Tightwad!” he reviled. “Old Alden P. Tightwad, the prince of misers! He + thought he'd add a couple of ten-dollar bills to his roll, so he + encouraged his skipper to hire a lot of interned Germans to work his ships + in neutral trade! He was penny-wise and pound-foolish, so he cut out the + wireless to save a miserable hundred and forty dollars a month. Bids are + invited for the privilege of killing the damned old fool—Skinner! + What are you looking at?” + </p> + <p> + “N-n-nothing!” stammered Mr. Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “I won't be looked at that way, Skinner. I have my faults, I know—” + </p> + <p> + “Ssshh!” Matt Peasley interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “And I won't be 'sshh-ed' at either. I lost the ship. I admit it. I O.K.'d + the charter, and Murphy did his best to save her for us and couldn't. I'm + the goat, but if it busts me I'll reimburse you two boys for every cent + you have lost through my carelessness—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mr. Ricks,” the consul interrupted. “Pray permit me to + proceed. The circumstances attending this case are so very unusual—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mister British Consul, I shall not argue the matter with you. + You're too bally deliberate, and, besides, what's the use? The ship is + gone. Let her go. We'll build another twice as big. Of course I could give + you an excuse, but if I did you'd think I was old Nick Carter come to + life. We'll just have to take it up through our State Department, present + our alibi, and try to win her back in the prize court.” + </p> + <p> + “She will never be sent to a prize court, Mr. Ricks. It doesn't require a + prize court to decide the case of the steamer <i>Narcissus</i>. The + evidence is too overwhelming. There could not possibly be a reversal of + the decision of our admiral.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner sat down suddenly to keep from falling down. The consul + continued: “The commander of the <i>Panther</i>, Captain Desmond O'Hara—by + the way, an old schoolmate of mine—has sent me a long private report + on the affair; by wireless, of course, and in code. It appears that in + Pernambuco harbor your German crew overpowered the captain—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Cappy, Matt and Skinner in chorus. “You admit that?” + </p> + <p> + “We do, Mr. Ricks. And last night your chief engineer, Mr. Terence + Reardon, with the aid of the steward, one Riggins—a British subject + and unfortunately killed in the affray—and Captain Murphy + overpowered the German crew—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ricks!” gasped Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Matt!” shrilled Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cappy!” yelled Matt Peasley. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense,” laughed the British consul. “They stole her back, + gentlemen, and when Captain O'Hara found her rolling helplessly and + boarded her, she was a shambles. Dead men tell no tales, Mr. Ricks—yet + it was impossible for any fair-minded man to doubt the testimony of the + dead men aboard your <i>Narcissus</i>! Her killed, wounded and prisoners + formed a perfect alibi. In the meantime, Mr. Reardon and Captain Murphy + are aboard the Panther, receiving medical attention, and will be returned + to duty in a few weeks; the <i>Narcissus</i> is proceeding to meet the + other ships of our fleet. She will coal them at sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you've confiscated her cargo?” Matt Peasley demanded. + </p> + <p> + “We should worry about the cargo if they give us back our vessel,” Cappy + Ricks declared happily. “We haven't received our freight money, of course, + but by the time I get through with the charterers they'll pay the freight + and ask no questions about the coal.” + </p> + <p> + “We confiscated it, Mr. Ricks,” the British consul continued, “for the + reason that it was German coal. The supercargo who boarded the vessel at + Pernambuco told your captain his people had paid cash for it to the + charterers. But we're going to give you back your vessel because we + haven't any moral right to keep her, since her owners have committed no + breach of international law. The supercargo left fifteen thousand dollars + behind him when he jumped overboard, but Captain O'Hara declined to + confiscate that. At Captain Murphy's suggestion it will be forwarded to + the widow of the man Riggins. Captain O'Hara especially requested that I + call upon you and inform you that you have two of the finest Irishmen in + the world to thank for your ship.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mister Consul. By the way, can you reach Captain O'Hara by + wireless? If you can, I should be glad to pay for a message if you will + send it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell him the Blue Star Navigation Company thanks him for the + courtesy of his message, but that it does not agree with his statement + that we have two Irishmen to thank for our ship. We think we have three! I + know the Irish. The scoundrels never go back on each other in a fight.” + </p> + <p> + The consul laughed. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he said, as he took up his hat preparatory to leaving, “your + ship is now equipped with wireless—a fine, powerful plant such as + they use in the German Navy. The supercargo brought it aboard at + Pernambuco.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley, the Yankee, came to life at that. “Has that been + confiscated, too?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “No, captain. However, we have confiscated that German crew of yours—” + </p> + <p> + “Hallelujah!” yelled Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “—and loaned you a crew of British seamen from the tramp <i>Surrey + Maid</i>. The <i>Scharnhorst</i> torpedoed her off the coast of Chile, and + we found her crew on board one of the German transports when we captured + them after the fleet was destroyed. You're all fixed up, from skipper to + cabin boy—” + </p> + <p> + “Wireless operator, too?” Matt Peasley cried. + </p> + <p> + The consul nodded. “He's got a steady job,” the youthful president + declared, and turned to Cappy Ricks for confirmation of this edict. But + Cappy, the pious old codger, had bowed his head on his breast and they + heard him mutter: + </p> + <p> + “O Lord, I thank Thee! All unworthy as I am, Lord, thou loadest me with + favors—including a wireless plant, free gratis!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Long after the British consul had departed Cappy Ricks sat alone in his + office, dozing. Presently he roused and rang for Mr. Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” he said, “Matt reports that the late Riggins made an allotment + of his wages to his wife when he shipped aboard the <i>Narcissus</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Riggins's wages hereafter shall constitute a charge against the <i>Narcissus</i> + while Mrs. Riggins lives and while the Blue Star Navigation Company can + afford to give up seventy dollars every month. Attend to it, Skinner. + Another thing, Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to do something for Murphy and Reardon. Now then, Skinner, + you've never had a chance to be a sport heretofore, but you're a + stockholder in the Blue Star Navigation Company now, and as such I feel + that I should not use my position, as owner of a controlling interest in + the stock of the company, to give away the property of the company in an + arbitrary fashion. So I'm going to leave it up to you, Skinner, to suggest + what we shall do for them. I believe you will agree with me that we should + do something very handsome by those two boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, sir, quite so. Well, to start off with, Mr. Ricks, I think we + ought to pay their hospital bills, if any. Then I think we ought to give + each of them a handsome gold watch, suitably engraved and with a small + blue star—sapphires, you know—set in the front of the case.” + </p> + <p> + “You feel that would about fill the bill, eh, Skinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, next Christmas I think we ought to give them each a month's + salary.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! You do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I think that would be a very delicate thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy sighed. Poor Skinner! Victim of the saving habit! Decent devil—didn't + mean to be small, but just couldn't help it. A bush-leaguer—Skinner. + Never meant for big company— + </p> + <p> + “In addition—” Skinner began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Skinner, my boy. Go on, go on, old horse. Now then, in addition—” + </p> + <p> + “It seems like the wildest extravagance, Mr. Ricks, but those men have + fought for their ship and I—remember, Mr. Ricks, this is only a + suggestion—I think it would be a very—er—tactful thing + to do to—er—” + </p> + <p> + “It'll choke him before he gets it out,” Cappy soliloquized. Aloud he + said: “Go on, Skinner, my dear boy. Don't be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “At a time like this, when freights are so good and vessel property pays + so well, it seems to me—that is, if you and Matt have no objection—that + we ought to give Mike and Terence a—er—a little piece of the + <i>Narcissus</i>—the ship—er—they love—say—er—a—ten-thousand-dollar + interest—each—” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Skinner! You came through at last, didn't you? The + president emeritus agrees with you, Skinner, and it is so ordered. + </p> + <p> + “Now skip along and wireless the glad news to Mike and Terence. Tell them + when they have the coal out to proceed to Rio and load manganese ore.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + In due course Captain Michael J. Murphy and Mr. Terence Reardon came off + the dry dock, the sole visible evidence of that unrecorded second naval + engagement off the Falkland Islands being a slight list to starboard on + the part of the Reardon nose, and a notch in Murphy's right ear. Mr. + Skinner had had a local jeweler prepare the presentation watches against + the day of the home-coming of the warriors of the Blue Star, and on a + Saturday night Cappy gave a banquet to Mike and Terence, and every + employee of the Ricks' interests who could possibly attend, was present to + do the doughty pair honor and cheer when the awards for valor were duly + made by Cappy and congratulatory speeches made by Mr. Skinner and Matt + Peasley. It was such a gala occasion that Cappy drank three cocktails, + battened down by a glass or two of champagne, and as a result was ill for + two days thereafter. When he recovered, he announced sadly and solemnly + that he was about to retire—forever; that nothing of a business + nature should ever be permitted to drag him back into the harness again. + Then he bade all of his employees a touching farewell, packed his golf + clubs, and disappeared in the general direction of Southern California. He + was away so long that eventually even the skeptical Mr. Skinner commenced + to wonder if, perchance, the age of miracles had not yet passed and Cappy + had really retired. + </p> + <p> + Alas! On the morning of December 24th, Cappy suddenly appeared at the + office, his kindly old countenance aglow like a sunrise on the Alps. + Immediately he cited Mr. Skinner to appear with the payrolls of all of the + Ricks enterprises and show what cause, if any, existed, why there should + not be a general whooping up of salaries to the deserving all along the + line. The Ricks Lumber & Logging Company had already declared a + Christmas dividend; the accounts of every ship in the Blue Star fleet had + been made up to date and a special Christmas dividend declared, and, in + accordance with ancient custom, Cappy had appeared to devote one day in + the year to actual labor. Christmas dividend checks and checks covering + Christmas presents to his employees were always signed by him; it was his + way of letting the recipients know that, although retired, he still kept a + wary eye on his affairs. + </p> + <p> + He had writer's cramp by the time he finished, but while the spending + frenzy was on him he would take no rest; so he seized a pencil and, while + Mr. Skinner called off the names of the deserving and the length of time + each had spent in the Ricks service, Cappy scrawled a five, a ten or a + twenty beside each name. Thus, in time, they came to the first name on the + Blue Star pay roll. + </p> + <p> + “Matthew Peasley, president; salary, ten thousand dollars a year; length + of service, four months,” Mr. Skinner intoned. “How about a raise for + Captain Matt?” + </p> + <p> + Cappy laid down his pencil and looked at Skinner over the rims of his + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” he said gravely, “you're only drawing twelve thousand a year, + and you've been with me twenty-five years! And here I'm giving this boy + Matt ten thousand a year and he's been on the pay roll only four months. + Why, it isn't fair!” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, he was three years in the Blue Star ships that—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't consider that at all when raising salaries. The salaries of ship's + officers are fixed and immutable anyhow, and when considering raises for + my employees. I can take into consideration only the length of time + they've been directly under my eye. Cut Matt's salary to five thousand a + year and let him grow up with the business. His dividends from his Ricks + L. & L. and Blue Star stock will keep him going, and he hasn't any + household bills to keep up. He and Florry live with me, and I'm the goat.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear Matt will not take kindly to that program, Mr. Ricks—particularly + at this time, when every ship in the offshore fleet is paying for herself + every voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Cappy demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Mr. Skinner replied hesitatingly, “perhaps I have no business to + tell you this, because the knowledge came to me quite by accident; but the + fact of the matter is, Matt is going to build himself an auxiliary + schooner—” + </p> + <p> + “Good news!” Cappy piped. “That's the ticket for soup! An auxiliary + schooner with semi-Diesel engines, four masts and about a million-foot + lumber capacity would be a mighty good investment right now. Every yard in + the country that builds steel vessels is filled up with orders, but our + coast shipyards can turn out wooden vessels in a hurry; and, with + auxiliary power, they'll pay five hundred per cent on their cost before + this flurry in shipping, due to the war, is over. I don't care, Skinner—provided + he builds a ship that's big enough to go foreign—” + </p> + <p> + “But this isn't that kind,” Mr. Skinner interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “No other kind will do, Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + “This is to be a schooner yacht—” + </p> + <p> + “A what!” Cappy shrilled. + </p> + <p> + “A yacht—eighty-five feet over all—” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty-five grandmothers! Why, what the devil does that boy want of a + yacht? How much money does he intend to put into her?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, Mr. Ricks; but we can be reasonably certain of one thing; + Matt Peasley will not build a cheap boat. She'll have a lot of gewgaws and + gadgets, teak rail, mahogany joiner-work—at the very least, she'll + cost him thirty thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” Cappy declared solemnly, “he might as well put the money in a + sack, go down to Clay Street Wharf and throw the money overboard! The + other night I saw a couple of soldiers having a pleasant time in a + shooting gallery, but what the president of the Blue Star Navigation + Company wants with a thirty-thousand-dollar yacht beats my time. Why, he + has more than thirty good vessels to play with all week, and yet he wants + a yacht for Sunday! Skinner, my dear boy, that is wild, wanton + extravagance.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dare say Matt thinks he can afford the extravagance.” + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, no man can afford it. Extravagance may reach a point where it + becomes sinful. And I say it's a crime to put thirty thousand dollars into + a yacht when the same thirty thousand, invested in a good vessel, will + yield such tremendous returns. Skinner, my boy, how did you find out about + this yacht nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + “I was looking through Matt's desk for a letter I had given him to read, + and I ran across the plans. Thinking they were Blue Star plans, I looked + them over; there was a letter from the naval architect attached—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy threw down his pencil. + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet,” he cried in deep disgust, “I thought I + was going to have a Merry Christmas—and now it's spoiled! Good Lord, + Skinner! To think of a man throwing away thirty thousand dollars, not to + mention the upkeep and interest after he's thrown it away—” + </p> + <p> + “You've just this very day thrown away about thirty thousand dollars you + didn't have to,” Mr. Skinner reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “I do have to. I've got to keep all my boys happy and satisfied and up on + their toes, or what the devil would happen to us? They're my partners when + all is said and done, and how am I going to face my Maker if I don't give + my partners a square deal? There's a vast difference between justice and + extravagance. Skinner, you don't suppose Matt's like every other shellback + of a skipper? Why, he's only twenty-five years old; and if he's got the + blue-water fever again, after a year ashore, there'll be no standing him + at thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's got it, sir,” Mr. Skinner opined firmly. “Did you ever see an + old sailing skipper that didn't get it? You remember Burns, who had the <i>Sweet + Alferetta</i>? His father died and left him a million dollars, and five + years later he came sneaking in here one day, told you he was tired + clipping coupons and that if you wanted to save his life you'd give him + back the <i>Sweet Alferetta</i> and a hundred dollars a month to skipper + her! He sold his interest to his successor for two thousand dollars when + he fell into the fortune—and five years later he bought it back for + three thousand, just so he could have a job again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Cappy admitted; “they all get the blue-water fever—after + they've left blue water. I never knew a sailor yet who wouldn't tell you + sailoring was a dog's life; but I never knew one who quit and quite + recovered from the hankering to go back. I think you're right, Skinner. + This yacht is just a symptom of Matt's disease. He realizes his business + interests tie him to the beach; but if he has a sailing yacht that he can + fuss round with on week-ends in the bay, and once in a while make a little + cruise to Puget Sound or the Gulf of Lower California, he figures he'll + manage to survive.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of yachts,” Cappy continued, “the case of old Cap'n Cliff Ashley + suggests a cure for this boy Matt. Cap'n Cliff was a Gloucester fisherman, + with the smartest little schooner that ever came home from the Grand Banks + with halibut up to her hatches. He couldn't read or write and he'd never + learned navigation; but he'd been born with the instincts of a homing + pigeon, and somehow whenever he pointed his schooner toward Gloucester he + managed to arrive on schedule; and any time he got a good fair breeze from + the west, like as not he'd run over to England and sell his catch there. + </p> + <p> + “Like most of his breed, Cap'n Cliff had to have a fast boat; he had to + keep her as immaculate as a yacht in order to be happy, and he was never + so happy as when he'd meet a squadron of the New York Yacht Club out on a + cruise and sail circles round the flagship with his little old knockabout + fish schooner. On such occasions old Cap'n Cliff would break out a long + red burgee with M.O.B.Y.C. in white letters on it. On one of his trips to + England he hooked up with a big schooner wearing the ensign of the Royal + Yacht Club and dassed 'em to race with him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, it happened that the late King Edward was aboard his yacht + that day, and you know what a sport he was in his palmy days. Cap'n Cliff + cracked on everything he had in the way of plain sail and, after holding + the King even for a couple of hours, he put his packet under gaff topsails + and fisherman's staysail and broke out the balloon jib, bade Edward + good-bye in the International Code—and flew! About six hours after + Cap'n Cliff came to anchor, the King loafed up in his yacht, dropped + anchor, cleared away his launch, and came over to visit Cap'n Cliff and + shake hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “'My dear sir,' says Edward, pointing aloft to the red burgee with + M.O.B.Y.C. on it, 'pray to what yacht club do you belong?' + </p> + <p> + “'My own bloomin' yacht club, your majesty,' says Cap'n Cliff; and if he + hadn't been a Yankee fisherman the King would have knighted him on the + spot! + </p> + <p> + “And that remark, Skinner, my dear boy, clears the atmosphere in the case + of our own dear Matthew. He shall have his own blooming yacht club, only + his yacht shall carry cargo and pay her way.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean I'm going to send him to sea for one voyage, once a year, which + will break up that blue-water fever and save Matt thirty thousand dollars + as an initial investment, and about ten thousand a year upkeep and + interest. All that boy needs to cure him, Skinner, is the old <i>Retriever</i>, + totally surrounded by horizon and smelling of a combination of tarred + rope, turpentine, wet canvas, fresh paint, green lumber and the stink of + the bilge water. Lordy me, Skinner, it puts them to sleep and they wake up + feeling perfectly bully! Where's the <i>Retriever</i> now, Skinner, and + who is in charge of her destinies?” + </p> + <p> + “She's due on Puget Sound from the West Coast. Captain Lib Curtis has + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! Well, now, Skinner, you listen to me: The minute he reports + his arrival you wire Lib to put the old harridan on dry dock and slick her + up until she looks like four aces and a king, with everybody in the game + standing pat. Can't have any whiskers on her bottom when Matt takes her + out, Skinner, because if the boy's to enjoy himself she's got to be able + to show a clean pair of heels. Then write Lib to wire his resignation and + give any old reason for it. Have him resign just before the vessel is + loaded and ready for sea, and tell him to insist on being relieved + immediately. Of course, Skinner, Matt will get busy right away, looking + for the right skipper to relieve Captain Curtis—and about that time + the president emeritus will shove in his oar and ball things up. Every + doggoned skipper Matt recommends for the job is going to have his + application vetoed by Alden P. Ricks, and—er—ahem! + Harumph-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “And you stick by me, Skinner. Follow all my leads and don't trump any of + my aces; and just about the time Matt begins to get good and mad at my + doggoned interference—you know, Skinner, my boy, I'm only a + figurehead—you cut in and say: 'Well, for heaven's sake! You two + still squabbling over a skipper for the <i>Retriever?</i> Matt, why don't + you save the demurrage and take her out yourself—eh?'” And Cappy + winked knowingly and prodded his general manager in the ribs. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that plan's kind of poor—eh, Skinner? I guess it won't work—eh? + Particularly when I come right back and say: 'Well, he might as well, for + all the use he is round this office. Here I go to work and appoint him + president of the Blue Star and he won't stay in the office and'tend to the + president's business. Yes, sir! Leaves all that to you and me, Skinner, + while he degrades himself doing the work of a port captain.'” + </p> + <p> + “All of which is quite true, Mr. Ricks,” Mr. Skinner affirmed. “He will + not stay in the office—and he's getting worse. Two-thirds of his + time is spent round the docks.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, two-thirds of his time in 1915 will not be spent round the docks, + Skinner. Play that bet to win! We're going to have a busy old year in the + shipping game in 1915, and a busier one in 1916 if that war in Europe + isn't over by then. A voyage in the <i>Retriever</i> will fix the boy up, + Skinner, and he'll stick round the office and put over some real business. + Yachts! Hah! What does a business man want of a yacht?” + </p> + <p> + “You overlooked one very important detail, Mr. Ricks,” Skinner ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I overlook nothing, Skinner—nothing. His wife shall accompany him + on the voyage. I shall implant the idea in her head, beginning this very + night as soon as I get home. I'll just tell her she isn't and never will + be a true sailor's true love until she takes a voyage with her husband. + Romantic girl, Florry! She'll about eat that suggestion, feathers and all, + Skinner. She'll do the real work for us. Always remember, my boy, that an + ounce of promotion is worth enough perspiration to float the <i>Narcissus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But what shall we do for a port captain?” + </p> + <p> + “I've ordered Mike Murphy—via Matt, of course—to take a + vacation under full salary and recover from the wounds he received + walloping that German crew on the <i>Narcissus</i>. About the time Matt + leaves in the <i>Retriever</i>, Mike will be ready to go to work again or + commit murder if we don't give it to him; so we'll slip him a temporary + appointment as port captain. I'm going to make it permanent some day, + anyhow. I suppose you've noticed that Mike Murphy has a crush on your + stenographer; and I don't see how he's going to put anything over if he + never gets a chance to see the girl!” + </p> + <p> + “I really hadn't noticed it, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was a ten-cent piece you'd notice it,” Cappy retorted. “And now + that matter is settled, how about this port steward? Is he a grafter? If + not, raise him five dollars a month. He's been with us only a year.” + </p> + <p> + Late that afternoon, after Cappy had made the rounds of his office, + distributing his checks and wishing all hands the merriest of Christmases, + he paused at last at Mr. Skinner's desk and laid a thousand-dollar check + thereon. + </p> + <p> + “Not a peep out of you, Skinner—not a peep!” he cautioned his + general manager. “No thanks due me. You've earned it a thousand times over—and + then some. Hum-m! Ahem! Harumph-h-h! By the way, Skinner, my dear boy, I + forgot to mention to you another little idea that's in the back of my + head.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean about sending Matt to sea for a voyage?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. The sea is a wonderful institution, Skinner—wonderful! It + promotes health and strength; and—er—damn it, Skinner, my dear + boy, have you ever observed that there isn't a married skipper in our + employ that hasn't been lucky? Many well-known authorities prescribe a sea + voyage—” + </p> + <p> + “What for, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + Cappy thrust his thumb into Skinner's ribs, winked, bent low, and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Too slow, Skinner; too slow. I'm getting old, you know—I can't wait + for ever. And if the experiment succeeds—Skinner, my dear boy, + you're next! You've been married more than a year now—” + </p> + <p> + “I fail to comprehend—” + </p> + <p> + “Grandson!” Cappy whispered. “Grandson!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mr. Skinner. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + One of the remarks most frequently heard on California Street was to the + effect that whenever Cappy Ricks girded up his loins and went after + something he generally got it. His scheme to get Matt Peasley to sea for + one voyage, accompanied by Florry, worked as smoothly as a piston; and on + the fifteenth of January the Peasleys went aboard the <i>Retriever</i> at + Bellingham and towed out, bound for Manila with a cargo of fir lumber. + Matt made the run down in sixty-six days, a smart passage, waited a week + in Manila Bay before he could secure a berth and commence discharging, + discharged in a week, loaded a cargo of hemp, with a deckload of hardwood + logs, and was ready for the return trip to San Francisco on April + twenty-fourth, on which day he towed out past Corregidor. + </p> + <p> + His wife, however, was not with him on the return voyage. Following a + family conference, it was decided that Florry should return home on the + mail steamer—which action Cappy Ricks considered most significant + when Matt apprised him of it by cable, but failed to state a reason. The + president emeritus, immediately upon receipt of this information, trotted + into Mr. Skinner's office and laid Matt Peasley's cablegram on the + latter's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Skinner, my dear boy,” he piped, rubbing his hands together the + while, “what do you know about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you—er—suspect—er—something, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “Suspect? Not a bit of it. I know! Neither Florry nor Matt would dream of + permitting the other to come home alone if there wasn't a third party to + be considered. Paste that in your hat, Skinner. It isn't done.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy was right, for the same steamer that bore his daughter home carried + also a brief letter from his son-in-law conveying the tidings of great + joy. The old man was so happy he went into Mr. Skinner's office and struck + his general manager a terrible blow between the shoulders, after which he + declared it was a shame that his years and reputation for respectability + denied him the privilege of chartering a seagoing hack and painting the + town red! + </p> + <p> + The <i>Retriever</i> crept slowly up the China Sea on the first of the + southwest monsoon. At that period of the year, however, the monsoon is + weak and unsteady; and after clearing the northern end of Luzon the <i>Retriever</i> + kicked round in a belt of light and baffling airs for a week. Then the + monsoon freshened somewhat and the <i>Retriever</i> once more rolled + lazily away on her course, with young Matt Peasley humming chanteys on her + quarter-deck and pondering the mystery that confronts all mankind in their + first adventure in fatherhood. Would it be a boy or a girl? He was + expressing to himself for perhaps the thousandth time the hope that it + would be a boy, when from the poop he saw something he did not relish. + </p> + <p> + It was the ship's cat coming across the deckload toward him, in his yellow + eyes a singularly pleased expression and in his mouth a singularly large + rat. + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley stepped below, found an old glove and drew it over his right + hand, after which he returned to the quarter-deck. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Tommy!” he called; and pussy came, to be seized by the tail and, + still holding fast to his prey, cast overboard. + </p> + <p> + “It's bad luck to do that to a black cat, sir,” the mate informed him. + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley's eyes were blazing. + </p> + <p> + “And it's worse luck still for any mate aboard my ship who neglects to put + the rat-guards on the lines when the vessel is lying at the dock,” he + growled. “You lubberly idiot!” + </p> + <p> + “But I did put the rat-guards on the lines,” the mate protested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know you did; but I had to remind you of it,” Matt replied. “You + didn't get them on in time—and now the Lord only knows how many rats + we have aboard. Ordinarily I don't mind rats, but an Oriental rat is + something to be afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they carry the germs of bubonic plague, you farmer!” And Matt + very carefully removed his glove and cast it overboard after the cat. “And + it's a cold day when you can't find an occasional case of plague in the + Orient. The cat caught the rat and mauled it round; hence the cat had to + go, because I never permit in my cabin a cat that has been on intimate + terms with an Oriental rat. And now I bet I know what's wrong with that + fo'castle hand that went into the sick bay the day before yesterday. He + complained of swelling in the glands of his neck and groins.” + </p> + <p> + The cook left the forward deckhouse and came aft over the deckload. At the + break of the poop he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Peasley,” he announced, “Lindstrom is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell everybody to keep away from him,” Matt ordered. He turned to the + mate. “Mr. Matson,” he announced, “the first duty of a murderer is to get + rid of the body. Go forward and throw Lindstrom's body overboard; then + stay forward. If you come aft until I send for you I'll blow your brains + out!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + When the <i>Retriever</i> was out from Manila seventy days Cappy Ricks + remarked to Mr. Skinner that Matt would be breezing in most any day now. + On the eightieth day he remarked to Mr. Skinner that Matt was coming home + a deal slower than he had gone out. The efficient Skinner, however, cited + so many instances of longer passages from Manila to San Francisco that + Cappy was comforted, although he was not convinced. “You make me a + type-written list of all those vessels and their passages, Skinner,” he + cautioned; “and when you can't think of any more authentic cases fake up a + few. Florry's beginning to worry. She knows now what it means to be a + sailor's wife, and if that doggoned Matt doesn't report soon 111 know what + it means to be a sailor's father-in-law. I wish to Jimminy I hadn't sent + Matt out with the <i>Retriever.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Ninety days passed. Cappy commenced to fidget. A hundred days passed, and + Cappy visited the hydrographic office and spent a long time poring over + charts of the air currents in the China Sea, along the coast of Asia and + in the North Pacific. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he quavered when he returned to the office; “I'm a + most unhappy old man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner forgot for an instant that he was a business man and, with a + sudden, impulsive movement, he put his long, thin arm round the old man + and squeezed him. + </p> + <p> + “If you didn't think so much of him, sir,” he comforted Cappy, “you'd + worry less. She really will not be overdue until she's out a hundred and + twenty days.” + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” Cappy piped wearily, “don't try to deceive me. I've been in the + shipping game for forty-odd years, boy. I know it's about six thousand + miles from San Francisco to Manila, and if a vessel averages ninety miles + a day she's making a smart passage. Matt made it down in sixty-six days, + and he ought to come back in sixty, because he has fair winds all the way. + Skinner, the boy's a month overdue; and if he never shows up—if he + stays out much longer—Florry'll break her heart; and my grandson—think + of it, Skinner!—think of the prenatal effect on the child! Oh, + Skinner, my dear, dear boy, I want him big and light-hearted and + sunny-souled like Matt—and to think this is all my doing—my + own daughter! Oh! Oh, Skinner, my heart is breaking!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner fled to his own office and did something most un-Skinner-like. + He blinked away several large bright tears; and while he was blinking them + the telephone bell rang. Mechanically Mr. Skinner answered. It was Jerry + Dooley, in charge of the Merchants' Exchange. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Skinner,” said Jerry, “I've got some bad news for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The-the-<i>Retriever</i>—” Skinner almost whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I thought I'd tell you first, so you could break it to the old + man gently. The Grace liner <i>Ecudorian</i> arrived at Victoria this + morning and reports speaking the <i>Retriever</i> eight hundred miles off + the coast of Formosa. The vessel was under jib, lower topsail, foretopmast + staysail, mainsail and spanker. She was flying two flags—an inverted + ensign and the yellow quarantine flag. The <i>Ecudorian</i> steamed close + alongside of her, to windward. Captain Peasley was at the wheel—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” Mr. Skinner almost sobbed. “What was wrong with her, Jerry? + Hurry up, man! Hurry up! Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “He was alone on the ship, Mr. Skinner. Bubonic plague! Killed the entire + crew! Matt was the only man immune, and he's sailing the <i>Retriever</i> + home alone!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious Providence! Why didn't the <i>Ecudorian</i> take him off?” + </p> + <p> + “Credit them with offering it,” Jerry replied. “He wouldn't come. He + declined to jeopardize the people aboard the steamer and he wouldn't + abandon the <i>Retriever</i> with her full cargo; so what could they do? + They had to sail away without him.” + </p> + <p> + Gently Mr. Skinner broke the news to Cappy Ricks; for, of course, the + United Press dispatches had carried it to the later afternoon editions and + it would be useless for Mr. Skinner to attempt to lie kindly. Cappy, with + bowed head, heard him through; when finally he looked up at Skinner his + eyes were dead. + </p> + <p> + “Quite what I expected of him, Skinner,” he said dully. “And I'd rather + have him die than dog it! This report from the <i>Ecudorian</i> helps + some, Skinner. It will do to keep hope alive in my Florry—and every + two weeks until the boy is born we'll—we'll—Oh, Skinner—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I'll attend to it. Leave everything to me, Mr. Ricks. I'll have + wireless reports and telegrams and cablegrams from every port on earth + telling of ships having spoken the <i>Retriever</i>, with the skipper well + and hearty, and sending messages of good cheer to his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you won't be—er—stingy, Skinner? You'll send out + the <i>Tillicum</i> to find him and tow him in, won't you? And you'll have + real telegrams—spend money, Skinner! I'll have to bring those + messages home to Florry—” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, Mr. Ricks. And I'll start right in by slipping fifty dollars + to each of the waterfront reporters on all the papers. They're good boys, + Mr. Ricks. I'll tell them why I have to have the service. Mrs. Peasley + must have our fake reports confirmed in the papers—” + </p> + <p> + “For work like that the marine reporters should have more money,” Cappy + suggested wearily. His old hand reached out gropingly, closed over Mr. + Skinner's and held it a moment childishly. “You're a very great comfort to + me, Skinner—very great indeed! And you'll come home with me + to-night, won't you, Skinner? I'm a little afraid—I want you near + me, Skinner—in case I can't get away with it to Florry.” + </p> + <p> + His dry, dead eyes studied the pattern in the office carpet. + </p> + <p> + “Two mates, a cook and ten A. B.'s!” he murmured presently. “One man, even + a Matt Peasley, cannot do the work of thirteen men. No, Skinner; it isn't + done. One man simply cannot sail a barkentine.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Skinner was not listening. He was on the long-distance phone + calling the master of the <i>Tillicum</i>, just about finishing discharge + of a cargo of nitrate at San Pedro. And presently Cappy heard him + speaking: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ricks, listen! Grant, of the <i>Tillicum</i>, says Matt would go up + the China Sea on the southwest monsoon... Yes, captain. You say—ah, + yes; quite so... Grant says he'd edge over until he got into the Japan + Stream, and that would add a knot or two an hour to his speed... Yes, + Grant. Speak up! ... Grant says, Mr. Ricks, that about the middle of + September or the first of October Matt would run out of the southwest + monsoon into the northeast monsoon—that's it, Grant, isn't it? He'd + get them about off Formosa, eh?... Yes, Grant. Then he'd run into the + prevailing westerly winds and run north on a great circle about five + hundred miles below the Aleutian Islands—I see, Grant. All right! + Fill your oil tanks and take an extra supply on deck, head into the North + Pacific... Yes; use your own judgment, of course. Mine's no good... Yes; + and bring a lot of disinfectants and a doctor, so it'll be safe to put a + few men aboard when you find her and put your hawser on her ... Yes, + Grant. If you find her you'll not have reason to regret it. Good-bye! Good + luck!” + </p> + <p> + “While the <i>Tillicum</i> is on this wild-goose chase, Skinner,” Cappy + said wearily, “she is chartered by the Blue Star Navigation Company to + Alden P. Ricks personally, at the prevailing rates. The stockholders + mustn't pay for my fancies, Skinner. You'll see to that, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + <i>Excerpt from the log of Captain Matt Peasley relief skipper of the + American barkentine Retriever; Manila to San Francisco.</i> + </p> + <p> + May Third.—Seaman Olaf Lindstrom died to-day, following an illness + of thirty-six hours. He was taken with chills and fever on the morning of + the second, complained of a severe headache and vomited repeatedly. + Removed him from the forecastle to a spare room in the forward house, + which on the <i>Retriever</i> has always been used as a sick bay. While + being supported along the deck he collapsed, and when the mate undressed + him and put him to bed he complained of soreness in his groins. I examined + them and found them slightly swollen. Treated him for ague—calomel, + salts, quinine and whisky, and one-fortieth-grain strychnine hypodermic + solution to keep up his heart action when the fever registered one hundred + and four and higher. He grew steadily worse. Could not find anything in my + Home Book of Medicine that exactly described his symptoms, and was at a + loss to diagnose Lindstrom's case until I discovered the ship's cat with a + rat it had just killed. + </p> + <p> + There were no rats aboard the <i>Retriever</i> when she left San + Francisco. I recalled that the first night we tied up to the dock in + Manila a dirty little China Coast tramp lay just ahead of us; and as I + passed her on my way uptown I saw a rat run down her gangplank. She had + rat-guards on her mooring lines. We had just tied up to the dock and I + returned immediately and instructed the mate to be sure to put the + rat-guards on our mooring lines, and not to use any sort of gangplank. + When I returned to the vessel later that night I found that the mate had + neglected to put on the rat-guards and logged him for it. Before we left + the dock a Chinaman died of bubonic plague aboard that tramp, and the port + health authorities put the vessel in quarantine immediately and prevented + further spread of the disease. + </p> + <p> + When I saw the ship's cat with a rat, therefore, I knew we had some of + that rotten China Coaster's plague rats aboard. Accordingly threw cat and + rat overboard just as the cook announced Lindstrom's death. Upon looking + up the information on plague, I am now convinced we have it aboard—that + Linstrom died of it. First Mate Olaf Matson wrapped himself in my old + bathrobe, gloved his hands and threw Lindstrom's body overboard, following + it with the gloves and bathrobe. + </p> + <p> + I am, in a measure, prepared for plague. When I learned we had lain close + to a vessel with a case of plague aboard I laid in some plague medicine, + on general principles and just to have an anchor out to windward. At the + English drug store on the Escolta I bought a tiny bottle of Yersin's + Antipest Serum and another of Haffkine's Prophylactic Fluid. It was all + they had on hand and it wasn't much; but—it is enough to save me—and + I intend to be saved if possible. I cannot afford to die now. I do not + know how old the Haffkine's Fluid is; and the older it is, the longer it + takes to render one immune. The antipest serum will render me immune + immediately, but the duration of the immunity thus granted lasts, at the + most, only fifteen days. I must, therefore, first take a hypodermic + injection of antipest serum to render me immune immediately and the next + day follow with an injection of Haffkine's Fluid, which gives permanent + immunity, but not for a week or longer when used alone. + </p> + <p> + There is this devilish thing about it to be considered, however: I may at + this moment be inoculated with plague, for the period of incubation is + from three to seven days—and I've fondled that cat every day since + we left Manila. If I am already infected and do not know it, and while in + that condition take an injection of the antipest serum, the book says the + serum will immediately bring on a fatal and virulent attack of the plague! + On the other hand, if I am not inoculated and take the antipest serum I am + safe. + </p> + <p> + The question before the house, therefore, is: Shall I take it or shall I + not? And if I do take it shall I be saving my life or committing suicide? + I am like the fellow in the story who was forced to drink from one of two + glasses of wine. He knew one of them contained poison, but he didn't know + which one it was! I shall make my will and flip a coin to decide the + issue. + </p> + <p> + May Fourth.—Two a.m. Mate reports another sick man in the + forecastle. Wish I had some formaldehyde gas. Have told mate to sprinkle + chloride of lime in Lindstrom's bunk and to dust the walls and floors of + the forecastle and sick bay with it. That is the only disinfectant I have + aboard in quantity. + </p> + <p> + At midnight I flipped the coin—heads I'd take it; tails I wouldn't. + The coin fell heads—and I took it. + </p> + <p> + Four a.m.—Mustered the crew and gave them a lecture on bubonic + plague. I have sufficient antipest serum for four men. After explaining + that it was Hobson's choice, I asked the men to draw matches, held in the + hand of the first mate, to see who should be the lucky ones. They all + decided to take a chance and go without it, with the exception of two + seamen and the mates, who, learning that I had taken it, decided to follow + suit. Accordingly I inoculated them with the antipest serum. + </p> + <p> + Five p.m.—Inoculated myself with Haffkine's Fluid. + </p> + <p> + Seven-thirty.—Seaman Ross died. Mr. Matson threw the body overboard. + No services. + </p> + <p> + Midnight.—Mr. Matson is down with it. + </p> + <p> + May Fifth.—Mr. Matson very ill and delirious. Cook moping round like + a drunken man; complains of severe headache. Wind blowing lightly from + south-west. Everything set. Inoculated second mate and the two seamen with + Haffkine's. + </p> + <p> + May Sixth.—Mr. Matson died at noon today. Cook down with it; also + another seaman, and Mr. Eccles, the second mate. Have altered ship's + course and am running for Hongkong. Winds light and baffling. Have not + made thirty miles today. Calm at midnight. Mr. Eccles died just as the + watches were being changed. I now feel that I have escaped; so examined + Mr. Eccles' body. He went so fast I am curious. No swelling of the glands + at all. Am inclined to think his was pneumonic or septicaemic. Threw him + overboard myself. + </p> + <p> + May Seventh.—Light and baffling airs all day; monsoon blowing in + weak puffs. Another seaman ill. So ends this day. + </p> + <p> + May Eighth.—Cook died at noon. No buboes on him either. He turned + kind of black. I was chief undertaker. No airs to speak of. Ship barely + making steerage way. So ends this day. + </p> + <p> + May Ninth.—Seaman Peterson died early this morning. Do not know + exact hour. Found him dead in his berth. Another funeral; no services. + Monsoon freshening. Made forty-eight miles today. Two more seamen on sick + report; and, to add to my worries, they are the very two I inoculated with + the antipest serum and Haffkine's. Is this stuff worthless? + </p> + <p> + May Tenth.—Seamen Halloran and Kaiser died within an hour of each + other this evening—Halloran at nine-thirty and Kaiser at + ten-eighteen. Put both bodies overboard immediately. + </p> + <p> + I have four seamen left, and am doing the cooking, navigating, nursing and + undertaking. Wind freshening hourly. Made seventy-two miles today. Glad + Florry and Cappy Ricks cannot see me now, although, for some fool reason, + I have a notion I shall see them again. If I were going to get plague it + would have developed before now. I feel quite safe, but most unhappy and + worried. + </p> + <p> + Midnight.—Seaman Anderson down with it. Jumped overboard to save me + the bother of throwing him overboard about the day after to-morrow, which + is a courtesy I did not expect of Anderson. I am obliged to him. I am + exhausted and so are my three remaining seamen. We cannot handle the + canvas now, so have taken in the foresail, royals, and topgallant sails, + hauled down the flying jib and got the gaff topsail off her, leaving her + under the jib, fore-topmast staysail, upper and lower fore-topsails, + main-topmast staysail, mainsail and spanker. Hove her to and turned in. + </p> + <p> + May Eleventh.—After a horrible breakfast, which I cooked, got under + way again. Monsoon blowing nicely, but under the small amount of canvas I + am forced to carry cannot make more than six miles an hour. Have decided + not to run to Hongkong. If I am to lose my three remaining seamen I shall + have lost them long before I sight land, and the tug or steamer that hooks + on to me off Hongkong will stick me with a terrific salvage bill. If I'm + going to be stuck I prefer to be stuck closer to home, and if I manage to + keep these three men the four of us can sail her home. I'll take a chance + and run up the coast of Asia with the Japan Stream until I reach the + northeast monsoon. I'm certain to be spoken and can send word to Florry. + In a pinch, at this season of the year, I can sail her home alone. + </p> + <p> + May Fifteenth.—I am alone on the ship. Into the Japan Stream, + monsoon blowing the sweetest it ever blew. Lucky thing for me I had the + forethought to trim her down; otherwise I should have had to cut away a + lot of canvas. And how Cappy Ricks would scream at the sail bill later on! + We were hove to overnight when Borden and Jacobsen died, on the + thirteenth. McBain complained of a headache and vertigo on the morning of + the fourteenth; so I laid to until he died, last night. I was not with him + when he passed. What good would it have done? I had breakfast; and after + breakfast I found him in his berth, dead. I tossed him overboard, and + every last rag of clothing, dunnage and blankets aboard, with the + exception of those in my own cabin. Then I burned sulphur in the + fore-castle, the galley, the cook's room and the stateroom formerly + occupied by the mates, closed the doors, and hoped for the best. Slept a + lot that day and night; and at eight this morning slacked off my spanker + and main sheets, checked in my foreyard and topsail by taking the the + braces to the donkey engine, and was off for home. + </p> + <p> + Have established my commissary in the lee of the wheel box. Set up a small + kerosene stove I found in the storeroom, and get along nicely. It is quite + an art to fry eggs with one hand and steady the wheel with the other, but + I managed it three times today. To-morrow I will cook enough at breakfast + to last me for luncheon and supper; hence will only have to heat some + coffee. + </p> + <p> + Logged fifty-one miles by eight o'clock; then lashed the wheel and let her + take care of herself while I got steam up in the donkey and hauled in my + spanker and mainsail; then I slacked off my foreyard and topsail yards, + hove her to on the port tack, hung three red lights on the forestay to + show she wasn't under command, set my alarm clock and turned in. I have to + smile at the ease with which one man—provided he is a sizable man + and able to stand strain—can sail a barkentine before the wind in + fair weather. I am not worried. I am not going to have bubonic plague. It + is horribly lonely, but I am due for fair winds—and I should worry. + </p> + <p> + Even if I should get a blow and have to take the lower topsail off her, I + can lower the yard by the topsail halyards until it rests on the cap; then + I'll skip aloft and run a knife along the head of the topsail and let it + whip to glory. After that it may blow and be damned! All the clothes the + old girl is wearing now will never take the sticks out of her. I've + trimmed her down to jib, lower topsail, fore-topmast staysail, mainsail + and spanker. Wish I dared carry the foresail. However, I must play safe. + It is awful, though, to be in a ship as fast as the <i>Retriever</i> and + have to crawl the way I'm crawling. Crawl all day and sleep all night! + Well, sometimes I can crawl all day and night and sleep half a day. We + shall see. I used to be able to stand considerable before I hit the beach + and got soft. The necessity for firing the donkey every night would soon + exhaust my fuel supply; but I have a deck-load of hardwood logs! + {Illustration: (<i>Excerpt from the log of Cap't Matt Peasley</i>) “I am + alone on the ship—all the rest are now dead”—} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + Four months had passed since the <i>Ecudorian</i> had spoken Matt Peasley + off the coast of Formosa; during that period no further news had been + received in Cappy Ricks' office, although the diligent Skinner, aided and + abetted by the waterfront reporters, managed to have a piece of cheering + information for Florry about every two weeks. And, in order to forestall + any possibility of some garrulous girl friend, with a male relative in the + shipping business, “spilling the beans,” as Cappy expressed it, the old + man had taken a house in the country, and came to the office only twice a + week to mourn for his lost Matthew and glean what little comfort he could + from the empty words of hope Mr. Skinner dispensed so lavishly. + </p> + <p> + “If we can only keep Florry buoyed up with hope until the baby comes!” + Cappy would groan. “She's worried; but, strange to say, Skinner, she + hasn't the slightest idea he's in any danger. Those fake cablegrams and + reports of ships speaking Matt—each time closer to home—have + done the trick, Skinner. Of course the boy's dead, and I killed him; but + Florry—well, she took a trip on the <i>Retriever</i> and knows how + safe she is, and I've had a lot of old sailing skippers down to visit me, + and primed them to tell her just how they would get away with such a + proposition as Matt's—and how easy it would be. Besides, she knows + Matt had some plague prophylactic aboard—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I've told her she mustn't show the white feather—for your + sake,” Mr. Skinner interrupted; “and I think she's sensible enough to know + she mustn't permit herself to show it—for the baby's sake.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy bowed his head and shook like a hooked fish. + </p> + <p> + “When the baby's two weeks old I'll tell her,” he moaned. “Oh, Skinner, + Skinner, my dear boy, this is going to kill me! I won't last long now, + Skinner. All my fault! I had to go butting in. That girl's heart is + breaking with anxiety. When she comes down to breakfast, Skinner, I can + see she's been crying all night.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible!” Mr. Skinner murmured. “Horrible! We can only hope.” + </p> + <p> + On the twelfth of September Florry's baby was born. It was a boy, and a + bouncing boy at that; and Cappy Ricks forgot for the moment he had + rendered that baby fatherless, and came up to the city to report the news + to Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Skinner, my dear boy,” he announced with just a touch of his + old-time jauntiness, “little Matthew just arrived! Everything lovely.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner was about to formulate suitable phrases of congratulation when + the telephone bell rang. It was Jerry Dooley up at the Merchants' + Exchange; and he was all excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Skinner,” he cried. “The <i>Retriever</i> is passing in!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Mr. Skinner shrieked. “It isn't possible!” + </p> + <p> + “It is! She's coming in the Gate now—she's right under the lookout's + telescope; and there's only one man on deck—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner turned to Cappy Ricks, put his arms round him and jerked the + old man from one end of the office to the other. + </p> + <p> + “He's safe, he's safe, he's safe, he's safe!” he howled indecorously. + “Matt's sailing her in. He's sailing her in—” + </p> + <p> + “You scoundrel!” Cappy shrilled. “Be quiet! Is she sailing in or towing—” + </p> + <p> + “She's sailing in.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks slumped down in his chair, his arms hanging weakly at his + sides. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Skinner,” he barely whispered, “Matt's alive, after all. Nobody else + would have the consummate crust to sail her in but him. Any other skipper + under heaven would have hove to off the lightship and sent in word by the + pilot boat to send out a tug. Oh, Lord, I thank Thee! I'm a wicked, + foolish, bone-headed old man; but Lord, I do thank Thee—I do, + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Cappy Ricks and Mr. Skinner, in a fast motorboat, came + flying up the bay and caught sight of the <i>Retriever</i> loafing lazily + past Fort Mason. On she came, with a tiny bone in her teeth; and suddenly, + as Cappy peered ahead through the spray that flew in over the bows of the + launch and drenched him to the skin, the <i>Retriever's</i> mainsail was + lowered rapidly. The vessel was falling off by the time the mainsail was + down and Cappy and Mr. Skinner saw Matt run aft, steady the wheel and + bring the vessel up on the wind again. She was now under spanker and the + headsails. Matt lashed the wheel and again ran forward, pausing at the + main-topmast-staysail halyards to cast them off and permit the sail to + come down by the run. + </p> + <p> + On to the topgallant forecastle Matt Peasley leaped, praising his Maker + for patent anchors on the <i>Retriever</i>. With a hammer he knocked out + the stopper; the starboard anchor dropped and the red rust flew from her + hawsepipe as the anchor chain screamed through it. With his hand on the + compressor of the windlass, Matt Peasley snubbed her gently to the + forty-five fathom shackle, cast off his jib halyards to let the jib slide + down the stay by its own weight, raced aft, and gently lowered the spanker + as the American barkentine <i>Retriever</i>, with the yellow flag flying + at the fore, swung gently to anchor on the quarantine grounds, two hundred + and twenty-one days from Manila. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks turned to his general manager. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty work, Skinner!” he said huskily. “I guess there's nothing wrong + with that boy's health. Damn! The quarantine boat will beat us to it! + Matt's throwing the Jacob's ladder over the side for them.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't board her until she passes quarantine—” Mr. Skinner began; + but Cappy silenced him with a terrible look. + </p> + <p> + “The word can't, Skinner, was eliminated from my vocabulary some fifty + years ago. We can—and I will! You needn't; but I've simply got to! + Hey, you!”—to the launchman—“kick her wide open and show some + speed.” + </p> + <p> + Despite the warning cries from the quarantine officers in the health boat, + the launch ran in along the <i>Retriever's</i> side; Cappy Ricks grasped + the Jacob's ladder as the launch rasped by and climbed up with an agility + that caused Mr. Skinner to marvel. As his silk hat appeared over the <i>Retriever's</i> + rail a wind-bitten, bewhiskered, gaunt, hungry-looking semi-savage reached + down, grasped him under the arms, snaked him inboard and hugged him to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + Silence for a minute, while Cappy Ricks' thin old shoulders shook and + heaved as from some internal spasm, and Matt Peasley's big brown hand + patted Cappy's back. Presently he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, father-in-law—” + </p> + <p> + From somewhere in Matt Peasley's whiskers Cappy's voice came plaintively: + </p> + <p> + “Not father-in-law, sonny. New title—this morning—six o'clock—nine—pounds—grandfather! + Eh? Yes; grandfather! Grandpa Ricks!” + </p> + <p> + “Boy or girl?” Matt Peasley roared, and shook the newly-elected + grandfather. + </p> + <p> + “Boy! Florry—fine—never lost hope!” + </p> + <p> + A port health officer came over the rail. He shook an admonitory finger at + Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, you! Old man, you're under arrest—that is, you're in + quarantine, and you'll have to stay aboard this ship until she's + fumigated. Yes; and we'll fumigate you, too. Whadje mean by coming aboard + ahead of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Cappy,” Matt Peasley said, “tell that person to go chase himself! Why, + there hasn't been any plague aboard the ship in nearly five months!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy looked up and wiped the tears of joy out of his whiskers. + </p> + <p> + “Scoundrel!” he cackled. “Infernal young scoundrel! What do you mean by + risking my <i>Retriever</i>, sailing her through the Gate with a crew of + one man?” + </p> + <p> + “Take a look at me!” Matt laughed. “I'm all hands! And didn't I prove I'm + enough men to handle her? The pilots wouldn't board me, and by sailing her + in myself I saved pilotage and salvage claims. I lost the lower topsail + and the consignees are going to find a shortage in those hardwood logs; + but that's all—except that I haven't had a decent meal in God knows + when. Say, Cappy, what does he look like? A Peasley or a Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “Both,” Cappy chirped diplomatically. “Matt, are you all over the + blue-water fever?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” he declared. “No more relief jobs for me. I've had plenty, + although it might have been worse. It was lonely and sometimes I thought I + was going crazy. Used to talk out loud to myself! I had some awful + weather; but I just tucked her head under her wing and let her roll, and + after I ran into the northeast monsoon, and later into the westerly winds, + I had it easier and got more rest. You know, Cappy, when a ship is sailing + on the wind, if you lash her helm a little bit below amidships she'll + steer herself. Slow work, but—I got here; and, now that I'm here, + I'm going to stay here. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Cappy,” he added, “I've just got to have something with sails + to play with; but no more offshore sailing in mine—that is—well, + I'm going to stay home for a long time—after a while, maybe—and + meantime I'm going to build a little schooner yacht—” + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Mike, do!” Cappy pleaded. “I'll be stuck in quarantine + with you for a couple of days and we'll kill time drawing up a rough set + of plans. And when that schooner yacht is ready, Matt, I'll tell you what + I want you to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + “Send the bill to grandpa, Matthew!” + </p> + <p> + “If I hadn't been a case-hardened old fool I'd have cheered you on when + you wanted to build that schooner yacht last year. I'd have saved myself a + world of grief.” + </p> + <p> + He placed his hand gently on Matt's shoulder and his face was ineffably + sad as he continued: “Of course, with you away and your fate undecided, as + it were, Matt, that infernal Skinner wasn't worth two hoots in a hollow. + Why, the boy flopped around the office like a rooster with its head off, + and as a result I've had to come out of my retirement and keep an eye on + things. Thank God, I can let go now. Really, Matt, you have no idea how I + long to separate myself from the hurly-burly of California street. What I + want is peace and seclusion—” + </p> + <p> + “You can have my share of that commodity for the remainder of my natural + life,” Matt laughed happily, “I want noise and people. I want screaming + and yelling and fighting and risks and profits and losses and liars and + scoundrels and honest men all inextricably mixed.” He tossed his great + sun-tanned arms above his head. “Lord, I want Life,” he half shouted. + </p> + <p> + Cappy sighed. These young pups! When they grow to see life as old dogs— + </p> + <p> + “Well, Matt, all I've got to say is that the first man that butts into my + private office and starts unloading a cargo of grief on me, is going to + get busted between the eyes with a paper weight. I'm through with grief + and woe. I don't give a hoot what happens to the world or anybody in it. I + want peace and a rest. I can afford it and wouldn't I be a first-class + idiot not to take it while the taking is good, Matt?” + </p> + <p> + “No more mixing in the shipping end, eh?” Matt asked hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Cappy raised his right hand solemnly. “Never again, Matt. I'm through with + ships and sailors and cargoes and the whole cussed Blue Star fleet can + sink and be damned to it, but I'll not lift a hand to save it. I'm + THROUGH.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + ALAS! Man proposes, but God disposes. Cappy had smoked his post-prandial + cigar next day and was in the midst of his mid-afternoon siesta, when the + buzzer on his desk waked him with its insistent buzzing. He reached for + the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he reproved his private exchange operator, “how often have I + told you not to disturb me between two and three o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you wouldn't mind being disturbed this afternoon, Mr. Ricks. Your + old friend Mr. Gurney, of New York, is calling.” + </p> + <p> + “Old Joe Gurney? By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet! Show him in.” Cappy was at + the door to meet his visitor when the latter entered. Mr Joseph Gurney, + senior partner of the firm of Gurney & Harlan, was, like Cappy Ricks, + a shiping man and a Down-Easter. He and Cappy Ricks had been a boyhood + friends in Thomaston, Main, and Gurney & Harlan were the agents and + controlling owners of the Red Funnel line plying between New York and + ports on the West Coast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joe, you doddering old pirate?” cried Cappy Ricks affectionately. + “Come in and rest your hands and feet. I'm tremendously glad to see you. + When did you drift into down?” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with Gurney and steered him toward a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes ago, Alden, my boy. Delighted to see you again, and + particularly pleased to see how carelessly you carry your years. I'm three + months younger than you—and I feel like the last rose of summer.” + </p> + <p> + “You look it, Joe. Take a leaf out of my book and let the young fellows + 'tend to business for you. Don't let worry ride over you in the shank of + your old age, my boy. I never do. Haven't paid a bit of attention to + business in the last ten years, and that's why at my age I'm looking so + fit.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll live to be a hundred, Alden.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he declared, “I'm going to live while I have the time. I never + expect to be a walking corpse just stalling round in an effort to defer + settlement with the undertaker, and I won't be a dead one until the + neighbors hear a quartet singing Lead Kindly Light out at my house—Joe + you look worried. Anything gone wrong with you, old friend? Need some + money? Have you married a young wife?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Joey,” Gurney confessed miserably. + </p> + <p> + “What? My godson, little Joey Gurney?” + </p> + <p> + “He's big Joey Gurney now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a fine boy, Joe—no thanks to you. His mother's influence + was strong enough to counteract any impulses for crime he might have + inherited from his father.” + </p> + <p> + Gurney smiled sadly at Cappy Ricks' badinage. + </p> + <p> + “He is a fine boy, Alden, but—he's only a boy, and I'm afraid he's + going to make hash of his young life before it's fairly started.” + </p> + <p> + “Booze?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then where did he first meet this woman?” + </p> + <p> + Joe Gurney, Senior, hitched his chair close to his friend's and laid an + impressive hand on Cappy's knee. + </p> + <p> + “Alden,” he said feelingly, “you and I have been friends, man and boy, for + about sixty-five years. I believe we were five years old when we robbed + Deacon Follansbee's beehive and got stung to death.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and we've both been getting stung more or less ever since, only + somehow we still manage to recover and be none the worse for the + experience. At least, Joe, we learned about bees. When it comes to boys, + however, I've still got my experience coming. My little chap died when he + was twelve, you know. I've never quite gotten over his loss; in fact, Joe, + I was dreaming of him a minute ago when you called.” + </p> + <p> + “You had him long enough, Alden, to realize how I feel about Joey.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy nodded. “Let's see,” he answered, reflectively pulling his whiskers, + “Joey must be about twenty-four years old now, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four last Tuesday; and at twenty-five he comes into his mother's + fortune. I've managed his little nest egg pretty well, Alden; invested it + all in the vessel property of Gurney & Harlan, and since the war + started I've swelled what originally was a quarter of a million to about a + million and a half. His stock in the Red Funnel Line is worth a million at + the very least, and the remaining half million is represented by cold cash + in bank and bonds that can be converted into cash overnight. + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! Harumph-h-h! Quite a fortune for a youth of a twenty-five to be + intrusted with. I'll bet somebody will take it away from him before he's + thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a safe bet, Alden. He has a candidate for his money on his trail + right now.” + </p> + <p> + “And he doesn't realize it?” + </p> + <p> + “Alden, he's only twenty-four years old. What does a boy know at + twenty-four?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joe, you and I had accumulated a heap of experience and hard knocks + at that age, and I seem to remember we each had a little money we'd + managed to save here and there. I don't agree with you at all on this + twenty-four-year-old excuse. My son-in-law, Matt Peasley—you + remember the Peasleys of Thomaston; Matt's a nephew of Ethan, who was lost + off the main yard of the <i>Martha Peasley</i>—was holding a + master's ticket for sail, any ocean and any tonnage, before he was + twenty-one. He's not much older than your Joey right now, but, + nevertheless, he's president of the Blue Star Navigation Company and worth + a million and a half, every dollar of which he has made by his own energy + and ability.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, Alden, there are exceptions to every rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you raise 'em right and you've got the right kind of stock to work + on and the boy is healthy and normal. Now I know your Joey comes from the + right stock; I know his mother raised him right until he was sixteen when + the good Lord took her away from you both; and I know he is healthy and + normal. Hasn't he proved that by falling in love? The only conclusion I + can draw, therefore, is that you've made a monkey out of him, Joe Gurney.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have, Alden; perhaps I have,” Gurney replied sadly. + </p> + <p> + “No 'perhaps' about it. I know you have. You sent him to college and gave + him ten thousand dollars a year to spend. If you wanted to give him a fine + education and turn out a man and a gentleman you might have gotten him + into the Naval Academy at Annapolis, where he would have learned something + of ships and graduated with a master's ticket; after serving a few years + and getting the corners knocked off him he could have resigned and you + would have had a sane, dependable man to sit in at your desk when you're + gone. By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, Joe Gurney, you make me sick! You're + like every other damphool American father who accumulates a few million + dollars in excess of his legitimate needs and then gets all puffed up with + the notion he's got to give his son all the so-called advantages his own + parents were too poor to afford him—or too sensible. The result is + you turn out an undeveloped or over-developed boob, too proud to work and + not able to take a real man's place in the world because he hasn't been + taught how. And in the course of time he marries a female boob who has + been raised according to the same general specifications, and nine times + out of ten she's too refined to be bothered with a family. And presently + there's a trip out to Reno and the little squib in the paper and—er—ahem! + Drat your picture, Joe, you're the responsible party. You created a + ten-thousand-dollar-a-year parasite on the body politic while your boy was + still in his teens, and now you want to know what the devil to do about + it, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “That's exactly what I want to know, Alden,” Gurney confessed miserably, + “and I've crossed the continent to get your advice. I haven't very many + real friends—the kind I can open my heart to—” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut, Joe. Enough of vain repining. Now then, old friend, let's get + to the bottom of this thing and see if we can't buy this wreck in from the + underwriters, salvage it and put it in commission again. Never say die, + Joe! Where there's a will there's a lawsuit or a heartache—particularly + if the estate makes it worth while. Now then, Joe, you must realize that + it's the fashion nowadays, when a fellow has to consult a specialist, to + give his personal and family history for three generations back before + receiving treatment. So if I am to diagnose Joey's case I'll have to have + a history of Joey. Now then! He graduated from college at the age of + twenty-two did he not?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't graduate, Alden. He was requested to leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! I didn't know that. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “General uselessness and animal spirits, I suppose. It wasn't anything + dishonorable. The main contributory cause was an alleged poem lampooning + some individual they called Prexy.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! And since leaving college what has he done?” + </p> + <p> + “I've had him in my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, answer my question. I know you've had him in your office. But what + has he done? Has he earned his salary?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he hasn't, Alden. Somehow golf and tennis and week-end parties + and yachting and big-game hunting in Alaska and tarpon fishing in Florida + sort of interfere with business.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that isn't much of a crime, Joe. I never had time to do those + highly enjoyable things and I couldn't afford them. When I could afford + them and had time to do them I was too old. You say the boy is fond of + yachting?” + </p> + <p> + “It's his greatest hobby. In his taste for salt water he at least + resembles his ancestors. The Gurneys were all sailors and shipping men.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a good yachtsman, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “He has a schooner that's a hundred and six feet over all and he seems to + win pretty regularly with her. I never knew him to get worse than second + place in all the races he has entered.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad,” Cappy Ricks murmured sadly. “A noble ambition absolutely + misdirected. He would have been a skipper and, lastly, a good shipping man + if you had only managed him like a sensible father should. Now about this + girl he's in love with?” + </p> + <p> + “That happened about three months ago. He met her at one of those + roof-garden, midnight cabaret, turkey-trot palaces in New York—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. I always take in the sights when I go to New York, but the + last time I was at that one up near Fifty-fourth Street the noise bothered + me. And the show was very poor; in fact, after seeing it I made up my mind + I was off cabaret stuff for keeps.” + </p> + <p> + “You ancient scalawag! What were you doing in a place like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing life as it ought not to be, of course. Your boy Joey took me up + there, by the way. In-fer-nal young scoundrel! He showed me the town and + we had quite a time together.” + </p> + <p> + Joe Gurney's old eyes popped with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “You went batting round with my Joey—an old ruin like you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? We behaved ourselves, and besides I always trot a heat with the + young fellows whenever I get a chance. It keeps me young. I enjoyed Joey a + heap, although I could see he was a jolly young jackass. Moreover, I'm his + godfather, and I guess it was all right for me to tag along and see to it + that my godson didn't get into deep water close to the shore, wasn't it? + Don't you ever step out with Joey and get your nose wet?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks smiled wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “If I had a son I'd pal up with him,” he declared. “I'd want to get out + with him and raise a little dignified hell once in a while, just to be a + human being and keep him from being a mollycoddle. Ahem! Harumph. So he + flagged this damsel in the leg show, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Joe Gurney nodded miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Have you given her the once over?” Cappy demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I went up there one night. I was afraid somebody would see me, so I + took along Joey's aunt, Matilda. We saw the young woman. She does a dance + specialty—an alleged Hawaiian hula-hula. It's fake from start to + finish.” + </p> + <p> + “You show a guilty technical knowledge of the hula, Joe,” Cappy reminded + him. “But passing that, what's the latest report on the situation?” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible, Alden, horrible!” replied Joe Gurney. + </p> + <p> + “Careful, Joe, careful! Many a wheat-straw skirt and sharks'-teeth + necklace may conceal a pure and honest heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she's been married twice and divorced once, to begin with, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That's a-plenty, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “And she has just completed her contract in the show and gone out to Reno + to acquire a six months' residence in order to get rid of husband number + two so she can take on Joey.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I found it out—by asking.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you told Joey?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know it?” + </p> + <p> + Gurney nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I had one of his young friends, whom I can trust, tip him off in + confidence. The news didn't make any difference to Joey. He asked her + about it, and she explained it all away to his entire satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. And you haven't given any indication to your son that you're + on to him and his love affair?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought best to pretend ignorance, pending my arrival at a solution of + the difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “Therein you showed a gleam of real intelligence. Having humored your boy + all his life you could not expect to cross him in his first love affair + and get away with it. No, sir-ree! The thing to do is to put the skids + under Joey and his lady love before they know you know it. Tell me more + about her, however, before I begin making skids and skid grease.” + </p> + <p> + “She is thirty-one years old—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks threw up both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, O my countrymen!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “She has two children—one by her first husband and one by her + second. They're living with her mother. She supports them from the + proceeds of her hula dancing.” + </p> + <p> + “Score a white mark for her, Joe. Is she a good looker?” + </p> + <p> + “A brunette, Alden, and Joey's Aunt Matilda admitted against her will that + she was a beauty. My lawyer tells me, however, that she hasn't an ounce of + brains, and proclaims the fact by laughing loudly when there is nothing + particularly worth laughing at.” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine you've had a detective agency investigating her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. She has little education and no refinement; her people are very + ordinary. Her father is a whitewing in Philadelphia and is separated from + her mother, who keeps a boarding house in Muncie, Indiana.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, Joe, she won't do for your daughter-in-law,” Cappy Ricks + opined slowly. “But don't worry, my boy. You've come all the way from New + York to confide in me and get my advice, and somehow I have a sneaking + notion you've come to the right shop. If there's anybody calculated to put + a crimp in love's young dream, I'm that individual.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew Joey and you were good friends, and besides, you're his godfather. + He thinks a lot of you, Alden, and I kind of thought maybe you might come + East with me, see the boy, get him to confide in you and—er—sort + of advise him in the way he should go. I'm—er—well, Alden, I'm + afraid I feel too badly about this to talk to Joey. I might lose my + temper, and besides—besides, he's all I have and he reminds me so + much of his mother that I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I understand, Joe. Leave it to me and I'll advise with him. + Yes, I will—with an ax handle! And I'll go East with you and tie + knots in his tail—only he won't know anything about it. It may cost + you a little money, but I assume expense is no object.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be cheap at a million.” + </p> + <p> + “Where that boy and your money are concerned you're such an ass, Joe, I'm + almost tempted to charge you a million extra for the operation. However, + considering Deacon Follansbee's beehive, and Joey's mother and my godson—” + </p> + <p> + Old Joe Gurney took Cappy Ricks' hand in both of his, that trembled so + with age and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Alden,” he declared. “I knew you wouldn't fail me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + For a long time after old Joe Gurney had terminated his visit Cappy Ricks + sat in the position which with him always denoted intense mental + concentration. He had sunk low in his swivel chair and swung his old legs + to the top of his desk; his head was bowed on his breast and his eyes were + closed. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he started as if snake-bitten, sat up at his desk and reached for + the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Get me the West Coast Trading Company,” he ordered the private exchange + operator, “and tell Mr. J. Augustus Redell I want to speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + Redell answered presently. + </p> + <p> + “Gus, my dear young friend,” Cappy began briskly, “I want you to do me a + favor, and in so doing I think you'll find you are going to perform one + for yourself also.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news, Cappy. Consider it done.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my boy, but this particular favor isn't done quite so quickly. + I want you to tell that Peruvian partner of yours, Live Wire Luiz Almeida + to dig up a specification for a cargo of fir to be discharged on lighters + at some open roadstead on the West Coast, and the more open the port and + the more difficult it is to discharge there; and the harder it is to get + any sane shipowner to charter a vessel to deliver a cargo there, the + better I'll be pleased. Surely, Gus, you must have a customer down on the + West Coast in some such port as I describe, who is actually watering at + the mouth for a cargo of lumber and is unable to place it with a mill that + will guarantee delivery? Look into the matter, Augustus, and see what you + can do for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to furnish such a cargo from one of the Ricks Lumber & + Logging Company's northern mills and freight it in one of your Blue Star + Navigation Company vessels?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't want to do it,” Cappy replied; “but in this particular case + the acceptance of such a cargo and the freighting of it via a Blue Star + windjammer, even though the usual demurrage at such discharging ports will + cause the vessel a loss, is a consummation devoutly to be wished. + Ordinarily, if you made such a proposition to me I'd call in the boys from + the general office and tell them to throw you out, but—well, in this + case I'm willing to stand the loss, Augustus.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are—not. Somebody else will recompense you for any loss, + Cappy Ricks, never fear. Do you want the West Coast Trading Company to + give you a bonus for accepting our order?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my boy. I'll make Skinner sell you the lumber at the regular base + price at the mill, plus insurance and freight to point of discharge. And I + won't stick you too deep on the freight, even in wartime.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something wrong with you this morning, Cappy,” Redell declared, + highly mystified. “You're too obliging. However, I'm not to be outgamed. I + have a specification for a cargo of half a million feet for delivery at + Sobre Vista, Peru; I've been trying for a month to place the order and + nobody will accept it because nobody wants to guarantee delivery. On the + other hand, the purchasers have been unable to get any ship owner to + charter them a vessel to go to Sobre Vista without a guaranty of a + perfectly prohibitive rate of demurrage per diem; consequently I had just + about abandoned my efforts to place the order.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine business, Gus. And is Sobre Vista a rotten port at which to + discharge?” + </p> + <p> + “It's vile, Cappy. It's an open roadstead and the vessel lies off-shore + and discharges into lighters. About four days a week the surf is so high + the lighters cannot lie alongside the ship or be run up on the beach + without being ruined, and to complicate the situation they only have two + or three lighters at the port. Labor is scarce, too, and the few <i>cargadores</i> + a skipper can hire have a habit of working two days and staying drunk for + the remainder of the week on the proceeds of those two days of labor. So + you can see for yourself that discharge in Sobre Vista is very hard on the + skipper's nerves, and that if he can work two days a week he's in luck. + And when we deduct from those two days all the national holidays and holy + days and saints' feast days that have to be duly celebrated, not to + mention the three hundred and sixty-five days in the year the populace + doesn't feel like exerting itself—well, Cappy, I couldn't give you + anything worse than Sobre Vista if you paid me for it.” + </p> + <p> + “May the good Lord bless you, Augustus! Come down and do business with + Skinner on the cargo. Get him to quote you a price f.o.b. ship's tackles + at the mill dock and tell him you'll furnish the tonnage when the cargo is + ready for delivery. There's no sense in worrying poor Skinner until his + worries are due, and when I send a Blue Star schooner to load your cargo + for Sobre Vista I'm going to have to fight him and my son-in-law, Matt + Peasley. But leave it to me, Gus. I'll guarantee the tonnage.” + </p> + <p> + “This is certainly wonderful,” the grateful Redell observed. “Thank you, + Cappy. What I'll do to those Peruvian customers of mine on price will be a + shame and a disgrace. Are you going to stick me for any demurrage on the + vessel, Cappy? Because if you are, I'll have to stick my customers in + order to get out clean.” + </p> + <p> + “No demurrage, Gus, not a penny.” + </p> + <p> + “Bully! Then I'll stick my customers anyhow. It makes the profit all the + greater, and since they expect to pay a reasonable demurrage I see no + reason why I should disappoint them.” + </p> + <p> + When Redell had hung up Cappy summoned into his presence Captain Matt + Peasley. + </p> + <p> + “Matt,” he queried, “what schooners have you got due at any one of our + northern mills within the next thirty days?” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley pondered and counted on his big fingers. “The <i>Tyee</i> + will be in from Valparaiso about that time,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got her chartered?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. We're using her in our own trade. Skinner will have a cargo ready + for her by the time she gets back, although we don't know yet where we + will send her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Matt, you tell Skinner he can't have her and to look around for + some other vessel to take her place. I may give her to him at the last + minute, but then again I may not. When she arrives at the mill, Matthew, + my boy, tie her up to the mill dock to await my pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what the devil are you going to do with the <i>Tyee?</i>” Matt + demanded, astounded beyond measure. + </p> + <p> + “I might want to take a cruise for my health and use the <i>Tyee</i> as a + pleasure boat,” Cappy answered enigmatically. “They tell me she's as fast + as a yacht in a breeze of wind.” + </p> + <p> + “The longer I'm acquainted with you, father-in-law,” Matt Peasley + declared, “the less I know you. You can have your <i>Tyee</i>, but for + every day she is held awaiting your pleasure your personal account will be + charged with something in three figures. I'll figure out her average + profit per day for the last five voyages and soak you accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair enough,” quoth Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Three weeks later Alden P. Ricks arrived in New York. After he had been + driven to his hotel and had removed the stains of travel he telephoned the + office of Gurney & Harlan and got Gurney, Senior, on the line. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm here, Joe,” he announced. “Have you followed my instructions + and cut Joey off at the pockets?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, Alden. He's rather desperate as a result, and has been trying to + borrow money by hypothecating the inheritance due him on his twenty-fifth + birthday. You see, I didn't give him a second's notice; just told him he + was spending too much time in play and too much money for pleasure, and + that until he came into his private fortune he would have to earn any + money he desired to spend. I have been very firm.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the stuff, Joe. And is he trying to earn it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so. He's sticking round the office at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! That's because it costs money to go anywhere else. Has he + succeeded in raising a loan by assigning an interest in his inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet. I blocked him at all the banks and with my old friends, and + I do not think he can borrow as much as he needs from any of his friends. + They, like him of course, are dependent on their fathers' generosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine way to raise a boy! Bully. Well, I'll be down to your office in + about an hour and take you and Joey to luncheon at India House. You + haven't forgotten what I wrote you, Joe? You know your part, don't you? . + . . Well, see that you play your hand well and we'll save that boy yet.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours later the Gurneys were lunching with Cappy Ricks at the one New + York club to which Cappy belonged—quaint old India House in Hanover + Square, haunt of shipping men and shippers, perhaps the best and + least-known club in New York City. Joey had been unaffectedly glad to see + his godfather; so much so, indeed, that Cappy rightly guessed Joey had + designs on the Ricks pocketbook; for after all, as Cappy admitted to + himself, he is a curmudgeon of a godfather indeed who will refuse to loan + his godson a much needed twenty-five thousand dollars on gilt-edged + security. In expectation of an application for a loan before the day + should be done, however, Cappy was careful not to be alone with Joey for + an instant, for something told him that only the presence of Gurney, + Senior, kept Gurney Junior from promptly putting his fortune to the touch. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joey, you young cut-up,” Cappy began as the trio settled in the + smoking room and the waiter brought the coffee and cigars, “I see you're + getting to be quite an amateur sailor. Your Dad tells me you won your last + race with that schooner yacht of yours in rather pretty fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a bully race, Mr. Ricks. I wish you could have been aboard with + me,” Joey declared enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! Catch me on a yacht!” Cappy's tones were indicative of profound + disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Ricks, you're a kill-joy,” old Gurney struck in. “All you think of is + making money, and you've made so much of it I should think the game would + have palled on you long ago. I tell Joey to go it while he's young—while + he has the capacity for enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe, I tell you now, as I've told you before, you're spoiling this boy. + When he's twenty-five years old he comes into a fortune and you're not + even preparing him for the task of handling that money wisely. You bought + Joey that schooner yacht, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I bought her cheap,” old Joe Gurney protested lamely. + </p> + <p> + “They cost a fortune to maintain, Joe. Now if Joey wanted some salt-water + experience you should have sent him to sea as quartermaster on one of your + own Red Funnel liners; presently he would have worked up to second mate; + then first mate, and finally skipper. By that time he would have known the + salt-water end of his father's business, after which he could sit in at a + desk and learn the business end. Somehow, Joe, when I see a shipping man's + son fooling away his time on a pleasure yacht instead of learning the + shipping business, I feel as if I'd just taken a dose of ipecac.” + </p> + <p> + “Godfather is out of sorts,” Joey soliloquized sagely, and resolved to + wait a day or two before broaching the subject of a loan. Cappy Ricks + surveyed the young fellow severely. + </p> + <p> + “Joey,” he began, “I've no doubt you're quite a sailor on your handsome + yacht, in your yachting uniform, with all the real head work to be done by + your sailing master—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” Joey protested. “I'm not that kind of a yachtsman. I'm + the captain tight and the midshipmite, and the crew take orders from me, + because I don't employ a sailing master.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me that when you go on a cruise to the West Indies + you navigate the yacht yourself—lay out your own courses and work + out your own position?” + </p> + <p> + Joey smiled patronizingly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he replied. “That's easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Play is always easy. But let me tell you, young man, if you had + command of a big three-legged windjammer, with a deckload of heavy green + lumber fresh from the saws, and ran into a stiff sou'-easter such as we + have out on the Pacific coast, you'd know what real sailoring is like.” + </p> + <p> + “Joey could handle her like that,” old Gurney declared with pride, and + snapped his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Could you, Joey?” Cappy Ricks demanded. “I have my doubts.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I think so, Mr. Ricks. I might be a little cautious at first—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't think you could,” Cappy interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do,” old Gurney declared with some warmth. “I've been out with + Joey on his yacht and I know what the boy can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! You're a doddering old softy, Joe. Yachting is one thing and + sailoring is another. I have an old lumber hooker on Gray's Harbor now, + loading for a port in Peru, and I'd certainly love to see Joey with her on + his hands. I'll bet fifty thousand dollars he couldn't sail her down to + Sobre Vista, discharge her and sail back inside of six months.” The old + schemer chuckled. “Lordy me,” he continued, “I'd like to see Joey trying + to make her point up into the wind! She'd break his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Alden,” Old Joe Gurney commenced to bristle. “Are you serious + about that or are you just making conversation bets? Because if you're + serious I'm just shipping man enough to call you for the sheer sporting + joy of it.” + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, you're on!” Cappy Ricks almost yelled. + “Put up or shut up—that is, provided Joey is as big a sport as his + father and will undertake to sail my schooner <i>Tyee</i> to Sobre Vista + and back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's a schooner!” There was relief in Joey's voice. “Why, I'll sail + any vessel with a fore-and-aft rig. I thought perhaps you were trying to + ring in a square-rigger on me, and I'm not familiar with them. But a + schooner—pooh! Pie for little Joey!” + </p> + <p> + “She's got three legs, and with a deck-load of lumber she's cranky and + topheavy. I'm warning you, Joey. Remember he is a poor ship owner who + doesn't know his own ship.” + </p> + <p> + Joey got up and went to a map laid out on a table, with a piece of plate + glass over it, to compute the sailing distance from Gray's Harbor to Sobre + Vista. He could not find Sobre Vista on the map. + </p> + <p> + “Figure the distance to Mollendo and you'll be close enough for all + practical purposes,” Cappy called to him, and winked at the boy's father. + “A little pep, here, boy,” he whispered to Gurney, “and we'll snare him + yet.” + </p> + <p> + Joey came back from his study of the map. + </p> + <p> + “I'd have the nor'west trades clear to the Line,” he remarked to his + father. “After that I'd be liable to bang round for a couple of weeks in + the doldrums, but in spite of that—did you say I couldn't do it in + six months, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said, Joey.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the bet, dad,” said Joey quietly, “and I'll take half of it off your + hands. I'll give you my note, secured by an assignment of a + twenty-five-thousand-dollar interest in mother's estate to secure you in + case Mr. Ricks should win and call you for his winnings—but he + hasn't a chance in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Money talks,” Cappy Ricks warned him and got out his check book. “Joe, + I'll make a check in your favor for fifty thousand dollars and you make + one in my favor for the same amount. We will then deposit both checks with + the secretary of the club, who will act as stakeholder—” + </p> + <p> + “'Nuff said, Alden P. Ricks. I accept the dare. Sonny, if you're a worse + sailor-man than you appear to be, you're liable to cost your father a + sizable wad. However, I can't resist this opportunity to put a nick in the + Ricks bank roll.” Gurney snickered. “Alden,” he declared, “you'll bleed + for a month of Sundays. Really, this is too easy! For old sake's sake, + I'll give you a chance to withdraw before it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the tail go with the hide, Joe. I don't often bet, but when I do I'm + no piker. Joey, there's just one little condition I'm going to exact, + however. I'm going to send one of my own skippers along with you on the <i>Tyee</i>, + because your license as master only permits you to skipper pleasure boats + up to a hundred tons net register; so in order to comply with the law I'll + have to have a sure-enough skipper aboard the <i>Tyee</i>. But he shall + have orders from me to be nothing but a companion to you, Joey. Once the + tugboat casts you off, you are to be in supreme command until you + voluntarily relinquish your authority, when of course he will take the + ship off your hands. Any relinquishment of authority, however, will be + tantamount to failure, and you will, of course, lose your twenty-five + thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a reasonable stipulation, godfather. I accept if father does—that + is, provided dad lets me in on half the bet.” + </p> + <p> + “Better let the young feller in, Joe,” Cappy suggested. “If you don't he + might throw the race.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't like to encourage the habit of betting, least of all with + my own son, but in view of the fact that this is a friendly little bet and—er—well, + you can have half, Joey.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Joey. “Mr. Ricks, when do I start?” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better,” he replied. “The <i>Tyee</i> is loading now, but + I'll wire them you're coming and to hold her for you. You have time to + arrange your affairs, pack a trunk and catch the Lake Shore Limited for + Chicago at five o'clock. From Chicago you take the—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I know the quickest route. Dad, I'll need some money before I + go.” + </p> + <p> + “How much, son?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a couple of thousand, just to play safe. And I'll have to leave you a + batch of bills to settle for me.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, son, I'll settle them. Here's your two thousand. You can pay + me back out of your winnings on the voyage. And never mind about your note + or the assignment of an interest in your inheritance. If I cannot take my + own son's word of honor I don't deserve a son. Just take care of yourself, + Joey, because if anything should happen to you it would go rather hard + with your old man.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote Joey a check for two thousand dollars and took an affectionate + farewell of his son. + </p> + <p> + “Now listen to me, my dear young Hotspur,” Cappy Ricks commanded him as he + shook Joey's hand in farewell. “The schooner's name is <i>Tyee</i> and + you'll find her at the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company's mill dock in + Aberdeen, on Gray's Harbor, Washington. And don't be afraid of her. She + was built to weather anything. The skipper's name is Mike Murphy, and if + you can't get along with Mike and learn to love him before you're in the + ship a week, there's something wrong with you, Joey. Just don't start + anything with Mike though, because he always finishes strong, and whatever + he does is always right—with me. When you get out there he'll show + you the orders I will have telegraphed him and you have my word of honor, + boy, that there'll be no double-crossing and no interference unless you + request it.” + </p> + <p> + “Right-o!” cried Joey, and was off to earn twenty-five thousand dollars of + the easiest money he had ever heard of. + </p> + <p> + “Like spearing a fish in a bathtub,” murmured Cappy Ricks dreamily, and + tore up the fifty-thousand-dollar check he had just written. “Joe, if your + boy is such easy game for a pair of old duffers like us, just think what + soft picking he must have been for that nimble-footed lady with the raven + hair, the pearly teeth and the eyes that won't behave!” + </p> + <p> + “But she's coarse and brainless, Alden. I can't imagine a boy like my Joey + falling in love with a woman like that. He ought to know better. Just + remember how he was raised.” + </p> + <p> + “Fooey! Joey isn't in love. He only thinks he is, and the reason he thinks + it is because she has told him so a hundred times. Can't you just see her + looking up at Joey with her startled-fawn eyes and saying: 'Oh, you do + love me, don't you, Joey?' As if the fact that Joey loved her constituted + the eighth wonder of the world! And she's probably told Joey she'll die if + he ever ceases to love her; and he's kind and obliging and wouldn't hurt a + fly if he could avoid it. Why, Joe, you old idiot, you mustn't feel that + Joey has disgraced himself. Isn't he planning to marry the woman? Only a + decent man—a born idealist—could hold that designing woman in + such reverence. Blamed if it isn't kind of sweet of the boy, although I <i>would</i> + love to give him a kick that would jar all his relations—including + his father!” + </p> + <p> + Old Joe Gurney gazed at Cappy in admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Alden,” he declared, “you have a singularly acute knowledge of women.” + </p> + <p> + “I employ about fifteen of 'em round my office; I had several narrow + escapes in my youth; I have had a sweet and wonderful wife—and I + have a replica of her in my daughter. And I do know young men, for I have + been young myself; and I know old fools like you, Joe, because I've never + had a son to make an old fool of myself over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now that you've hooked Joey for a six months' voyage, what's next + on the program?” Gurney asked after a brief silence. + </p> + <p> + Cappy smiled—a prescient little smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm going to pull off a wedding,” he declared. “I'm going to marry + Joey to the sweetest, nicest, healthiest, prettiest, brainiest little lady + of twenty summers that ever threatened to put the Ricks organization on + the toboggan. She's my private secretary and I've got to get rid of her or + some of the young fellows in our office will be killing each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, here, Alden, my boy, go slow! I ought to be consulted in this + matter. Who is this young lady and what are her antecedents?” + </p> + <p> + “Say, who's running this layout?” Cappy demanded. “Didn't you come to me + squealing for help? Joe, take a back seat and let me try my hand without + any advice from you. The girl's name is Doris Kenyon and she's an orphan. + Her father used to be the general manager of my redwood mill on Humboldt + Bay, and her mother was a girlhood friend of my late wife's; so naturally + I've established a sort of protectorate over her. She has to work for a + living, and any time there's a potentially fine, two-million-dollar + husband like Joey lying round loose I like to see some deserving working + girl land the cuss. As a matter of fact, it's almost a crime to steer her + against Joey in his present state. But,” Cappy added, “I have a notion + that before Joey gets rid of that hula-hula girl he's going to be a + sadder, wiser and poorer young man than he is at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Your plan, then, is to give Joey six months away from his captor in order + that he may forget her?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Absence makes the heart grow colder in cases like the one under + discussion, and the sea is a great place for a fellow to do some quiet, + sane, uninterrupted thinking. The sea, at night particularly, is + productive of much introspection and speculation on the various aspects of + life, and in order to make Joey forget this vampire in a hurry all that is + necessary is to have a real woman round him for a while. The first thing + he knows he'll be making comparisons and the contrast will appall him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I do. Joey's future wife accompanies him on the voyage, and my + bully port captain, Mike Murphy, and his amiable sister go along to + chaperone the party and make up a foursome at bridge. I've had a naval + architect at work on the old cabin of the <i>Tyee</i>, putting in some + extra staterooms, bathrooms, and so on, and in order to make a space for + the passengers I subsidized the two squarehead mates into berthing with + the crew in the fo'-castle. Doris always did want to take a voyage in one + of the Blue Star windjammers, and I had promised to send her at the first + convenient opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “You deep-dyed, nefarious old villain!” + </p> + <p> + “Old Cupid Ricks, eh? Well, it's lots of fun, Joe, this butting in on + love's young dream. And I'm just so constituted I've got to run other + people's affairs for them or I wouldn't be happy. I do think, however, + that this house party on the old <i>Tyee</i> is about the slickest deal I + have ever put over. Joe, they're going to be right comfortable. I've + shipped a maid for the girls, and the cook this time is several degrees + superior to the average maritime specimen, for there's nothing like a + couple of days of bum cooking to upset tempers—and I'm taking no + chances. Also, just before I left I gave your future daughter-in-law her + quarterly dividend—you see, when her father died I had to sort of + look after the family, and I ran a bluff that Kenyon had some Ricks Lumber + & Logging Company stock—you know, Joe. Proud stuff! I had to + hornswoggle them. Well, as I say, I gave her the money, and my girl Florry + went shopping with her. Sports clothes? Wow! Wow! White skirts, blue + jersey, little sailor hat—man—oh, man, the stage is set to the + last detail! I even had them ship a piano. Doris plays the guitar and has + a pleasing voice, and just for good measure I threw in a crackajack + cabinet phonograph and a hundred records with enough sentimental drip to + sink the schooner.” + </p> + <p> + Joe Gurney stared at his old friend rather helplessly and shook his head. + Such finesse was beyond his comprehension. + </p> + <p> + “You see, now,” Cappy continued, “the wisdom of my course? I insisted that + you cut off Joey's allowance and get him hungry for money. You did—and + he got hungry. He would have been posted at his clubs in thirty days; it + is probable he owed a few bets here and there; his tailor may have needed + money. Consequently, by the time I arrived on the scene he was ripe for + any legitimate enterprise that would bring him in the needful funds; we + arranged the enterprise and he promptly smothered it. Right off, Joe, your + son said to himself: 'It will be almost a year before I come into my + inheritance, and in the interim I'm going to get married, and a married + man who lives on the scale my wife will expect me to assume is going to + need a lot more money than a clerkship in his father's shipping office + will bring him. Now, there's Tootsy-Wootsy out in Reno with a five months' + sentence staring her in the eye before she'll be free to marry me, and I + can't very well go out to Reno to visit her without running the risk of + incurring my father's displeasure or the tongue of gossip. Consequently, I + have five months' time to kill, also, and how better can I kill it than by + a jolly sea voyage in a bally old lumber hooker? I can easily win + twenty-five thousand dollars from my godfather, and that twenty-five + thousand will carry us along until dad turns over my mother's estate to + me. Fine business! I'll go to it.' And, Joe, he's done gone! Of course I'm + going to win his twenty-five thousand bet because he doesn't know what it + means to discharge a vessel in Sobre Vista, and Mike Murphy has orders + from me to hire all the available stevedores there to do something else + while Joey is trying to hire them to discharge the <i>Tyee</i>. Don't + worry, Joe! The country is safe in the capable hands of Mike Murphy.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. And the twenty-five thousand dollars you will win from Joey—” + </p> + <p> + “Will reimburse me for the extraordinary expense I've been to in saving + your son. If Joey's end of the bet doesn't cover I'll nick you, Joseph, + although I figure Joey's end of it will pay the fiddler. He won't miss it + out of his two millions. Besides, I've noticed that the only experience + worth while is the kind you pay real money for—and Joey has to buy + his experience the same as the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + Five days later Cappy Ricks dropped into the Red Funnel Line and laid a + telegram on old Joe Gurney's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Read that,” he commanded, “and see if you can't work up a couple of + cheers.” + </p> + <p> + Gurney read: + </p> + <p> + “Aberdeen, Wash., June 3, 1916 + </p> + <p> + “Alden P. Ricks + </p> + <p> + “Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York + </p> + <p> + “Joey arrived bung up and bilge free. Had loaded and hauled into stream, + waiting for him. Came out in launch, climbed Jacob's ladder and stood on + rail, sizing up ship. Saw Doris and almost fell face down on deck. He says + Doris is a dream, she says Joey is a dear. Take it from me, boss, it is + all over but the wedding bells. + </p> + <h3> + “M. CUPID MURPHY.” + </h3> + <p> + Old Joe Gurney took Cappy Ricks' hand in both of his and shook it + heartily. + </p> + <p> + “My worries are over, Alden,” he declared. “You have, indeed, been my + friend in need.” + </p> + <p> + “My troubles and Joey's are just commencing, however,” Cappy retorted + blithely. “However—'never trouble trouble until trouble troubles + you' is my motto. Where's that hundred-and-six-foot schooner yacht of + Joey's?” + </p> + <p> + “She's at her moorings in Greenpoint Basin. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to borrow her for a cruise to San Francisco, via the Panama Canal. + Joey and his bride can sail her back. May I have her, to do what I please + with, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “Alden, don't ask foolish questions. Take her and God bless you! Joey owns + her, but I pay the bills; so her skipper takes orders from me.” + </p> + <p> + Two days later Joey's schooner <i>Seafarer</i> was standing out to sea + past Sandy Hook, but Cappy Ricks was not aboard her, for that ingenious + schemer had boarded a train and gone back to San Francisco and his lumber + and ships. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks' meditations were interrupted by a knock at the door of his + private office. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” he piped, and his son-in-law, Captain Matt Peasley, stuck his + head in. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tyee</i> is sailing in, Cappy,” he announced. “The Merchants' + Exchange has just telephoned.” + </p> + <p> + “It's an infernal lie,” Cappy shrilled excitedly. “It can't be the <i>Tyee</i>. + If it is, she's two months ahead of her schedule, and by the Holy + Pink-Toed Prophet, I fixed up that schedule myself.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Joey didn't like your schedule and re-arranged it to suit + himself,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! That infernal young scoundrel put it over me? Preposterous! + Why, Mike Murphy was on the job. Get out, Matt, and don't come in here + again today throwing scares into the old man.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Cappy's confidence in human nature was badly jarred when + Captain Michael J. Murphy was announced two hours later. Indeed Cappy + could scarcely credit his sense of sight when the redoubtable Michael + entered the room. He glared at the worthy fellow over the rims of his + spectacles for fully a minute while Murphy stood fidgeting just inside the + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Blue Star despot presently, “all I've got to say to you, + Mike Murphy, is that you're certainly a hell of a seaman to stand idly by + and see that young Joey do me up like this. Give an account of yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “They're engaged,” Murphy protested valiantly. + </p> + <p> + “That's my work, Mike, not yours. Don't take any credit that isn't coming + to you. I want a report on your end of this deal. How does it happen that + this boy harpoons me for twenty-five thousand dollars? Have the <i>cargadores</i> + at Sobre Vista gone on the water wagon? Did Joey out-bid you for their + services? Have they added a lot more lighters to their lighterage fleet? + Has the surf quit rolling in on the beach? Have the inhabitants of Sobre + Vista been converted to the Mohammedan faith and declined to celebrate + saints' days and holy days? Is there smallpox in the town, that the + quietus has been put on fiestas and fandangoes, and has Peru been annexed + by Chile and the celebration of the national holidays forbidden?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Ricks. It's the same old <i>manana</i> burg. The trouble was that + Joey is a better sailorman than he appeared to be. He cracked on all the + way down and made a smashing voyage, and, of course, as soon as we got + there he went ashore. Two other schooners were there ahead of us. One was + loading general cargo and the other was discharging it, and when Joey + heard they had been there a month he investigated conditions and saw where + you had him. Mr. Ricks, he came back as mad as a hatter. Of course I saw + he would have to wait until the other schooners were out of the way before + he could begin discharging, because they had first call on the lighters; + so in view of the situation and the fact that Miss Murphy and Doris were a + bit tired of the ship and wanted to go ashore and see the back country, I + organized a trip for them.” + </p> + <p> + “You left Joey aboard the Tyee, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. And there's where I made my fatal break. The minute my back was + turned the son of a pirate got busy. It appears there was a six-inch waste + pipe leading from the crew's lavatory out under the stern of the ship, and + this pipe had rusted away and broken off at the flange just inside the + skin of the ship sometime during the vessel's previous voyage. Of course + it happened while she was homeward bound in ballast, and was standing so + high out of the water that this vent where the pipe was broken was above + the waterline; consequently not enough of a leak developed to be + noticeable. At the mill dock, however, after we got her under-deck cargo + aboard, the vessel had settled until this vent was under water, and + immediately she developed a mysterious leak. In fact, due to the enormous + pressure, the water came in faster than the pumps could handle it. + Fortunately, however, we discovered where the leak was, though it was then + too late to mend it. To do so we would have had to take out the under-deck + cargo again. So I just whittled out a six-inch wooden plug, fastened it to + the end of the boat hook, ran it down the narrow space through which the + broken pipe led, found the vent, hammered the plug home, stopped the leak, + pumped out the well, finished taking on cargo and sailed for Sobre Vista.” + </p> + <p> + “A small leak will sink a great ship,” Cappy Ricks murmured. “I think I + anticipate the blow-off, Mike; but proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately for us that cargo of lumber we had was for the Peruvian + government. They were going to use it in the construction of barracks or a + new customhouse or something—and Joey knew this. And he knew about + that plug. So the minute my back was turned he pulled out the plug and the + water came in and trickled all through the cargo and the ship commenced to + settle. But Joey didn't care. He knew a little salt water couldn't hurt + the lumber. When the top of the <i>Tyee's</i> rail was flush with the + water he plugged the hole again, got his crew busy with the pumps, and by + judiciously plugging and unplugging that leak he kept the crew pumping all + day and all night without raising the vessel an inch, and the people + ashore could see the streams of water cascading overside and the crew + pumping like mad. And presently Joey gave up, went ashore, sought the + captain of the port and put up a hard luck story about a leak in his ship—a + leak he couldn't find anywhere—a leak that was getting away from + him, because his men were too exhausted to do any more pumping. And he + said his ship would get water-logged and settle until the surf began to + break over her. And presently the deck lashings would part under the + battering of the surf and the deck load would go by the board. Half of it + would drift out to sea, and the other half would pound on the beach and + get filled with sand, which would dull the saws and planes of the + carpenters when they came to cut it up. Also, the ship's cabin would be + sure to go, and unless he had help he would have to abandon the vessel and + she would lie there, submerged, at anchor, a menace to the navigation of + the port.” + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel! The in-fer-nal young scoundrel!” cried Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he got away with it, sir. Remember our cargo was for the Peruvian + government and they'd had the devil's own time getting it; consequently + they couldn't afford to lose any part of it and have their anchorage + ground menaced by a derelict. So the captain of the port took it up with + the commandant of the local garrison, and the commandant, as Joey + expressed it, heard the Macedonian cry and got busy. He commandeered all + the lighters the other schooners were using; the soldiers rounded up the + <i>cargadores</i> at the point of the bayonet, and they started + discharging the American schooner <i>Tyee</i>, with the spiggoty soldiers + swelling Joey's crew at the pumps and Joey doing business with that wooden + plug according to the requirements. Fortunately there weren't any surf + days that week, and the way the cargo poured out of the <i>Tyee</i> was a + shame and a disgrace. And when it was all out Joey plugged the leak again, + pumped out the ship, and wired me at Mollendo to hurry back with the + ladies or he'd sail without me. So you can see for yourself, Mr. Ricks, it + was a hard hand to beat. And his luck held. He cracked on all the way home + and, as you know, sir, the <i>Tyee</i> is fast in a breeze of wind, and + you told me not to interfere unless he asked me to.” + </p> + <p> + Despite his disappointment Cappy Ricks lay back in his chair and laughed + until he wept. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mike,” he declared, “it's worth twenty-five thousand dollars to know + a boy who can pull one like that. What do you think of him, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll do. His father has spoiled him, but not altogether. I think a heap + of him, sir. Remember I've been shipmates with him a trifle over four + months, and that's a pretty good test.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Mike. I forgive you, my boy. I hope Miss Murphy enjoyed the + trip. Tell her—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Joey Gurney, accompanied by Miss Doris Kenyon entered + unannounced. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, godfather,” yelled Joey joyously. He jerked the old man out of his + chair and hugged him. “I'm back with your schooner, sir. She was easy to + navigate, but that was a cold deck you handed me in Sobre Vista—” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you, Joey, glad to see you,” Cappy interrupted. “Ah, and + here's my little secretary again. Miss Kenyon, this is a pleasure—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ricks,” Joey interrupted him, “the lady's name is no longer Miss + Kenyon. She is now Mrs. Joseph K. Gurney, Junior. The minute we got ashore + at Meiggs' wharf and could shake the Murphys, who stood out till the last + for a church wedding, we chartered a taxicab, went up to the City Hall, + procured a license, rounded up a preacher—and got married. What do + you know about that?” + </p> + <p> + “You're as fast as a second-story worker, Joey. I shall kiss the bride.” + And Cappy did. Then he sat down and stared at the fruit of his cunning + labors. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well!” cried Joey. “Kick in, godfather, kick in. You owe me + twenty-five thousand dollars, and if I'm going to support a wife I'll need + it.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy summoned Mr. Skinner, who felicitated the happy pair and departed + pursuant to Cappy's order, to make out a check for Joey. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Cappy, as he handed the groom his winnings, “you get out + of here with your bride, Joey, and I'll telephone Florry and we'll + organize a wedding supper. And to-morrow morning, Joey, I'd like to see + you at ten o'clock, if you can manage to be here.” + </p> + <p> + Joey promised, and hastened away with his bride. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + True to his word he presented himself in Cappy's lair promptly at ten next + morning. The old gentleman was sitting rigidly erect on the extreme edge + of his chair; in his hand he held a typewritten statement with a column of + figures on it, and he eyed Joey very appraisingly over the rims of his + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said solemnly, “sit down. I'm awfully glad you cabled that + hula-hula girl of yours in Reno that the stuff was all off.” + </p> + <p> + Joey's mouth flew open. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, how did you know?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I know everything, Joey. I'm that kind of an old man.” + </p> + <p> + Joey paled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ricks,” he pleaded, “for heaven's sake don't let a whisper of + that affair reach my wife.” He wrung his hands. “I told her she was the + only girl I had ever loved—that I'd never been engaged before—that + I—oh, godfather, if she ever discovers I've lied to her—” + </p> + <p> + “She'll not discover it. Compose yourself, Joey. I've seen to all that. I + knew you'd give Doris the same old song and dance; everybody's doing it, + you know, so I took pains to see to it that you'll never have to eat your + words.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have been crazy to engage myself to that woman,” Joey wailed. “I + don't know why I did it—I don't know how it happened—Oh, Mr. + Ricks, please believe me!” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Joey, I do. I understand perfectly, because at the tender age of + twenty-four I proposed marriage to a snake-charmer lady in the old Eden + Musee. She was forty years old if she was a day, but she carried her years + well and hid the wrinkles with putty, or something. Barring a slight + hare-lip, she was a fairly handsome woman—in the dark.” He reached + into a compartment of his desk and drew forth a package of letters tied + with red ribbon. “You can have these, Joey,” he announced; “only I + shouldn't advise keeping them where your wife may find them. They are your + letters to your Honolulu lady.” + </p> + <p> + Joey let out a bleat of pure ecstacy and seized them. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't read them, sir, have you?” he queried, blushing desperately. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, my boy. I had to, you know, because I was buying something and I + wanted to make certain I got value received. Pretty gooey stuff, Joey! + Read aloud, they sound like a cow's hoof settling into a wet meadow!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad she took it sensibly,” Joey announced, for he was anxious to + change the topic of conversation. “I suppose she saw it was the only way.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't, my son. Don't flatter yourself. On your way out West to + join the <i>Tyee</i> you wrote her every day on the train. You told her + about your bet with me, and who I was and all about me. Lucky for you that + you did, and doubly lucky for you that you cabled her the jilt from Sobre + Vista, or she would not have come to me with her troubles. Joey, that must + have taken courage on your part. It's mighty hard for a gentleman to cable + a lady and break an engagement. That's the lady's privilege, Joey.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I was desperate, Mr. Ricks. I had to. I had to have her out of + the way by the time I got back, or Doris might have found it out. You see, + I wanted to clear the atmosphere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you clouded it for fair! You see, Joey, in all those letters it + appears that you never once mentioned the words marriage or engagement. + But your cablegram was an admission that an engagement existed, and the + lady was smart enough to realize that. It appears also that about a week + after you cleared for Sobre Vista her annoying husband was killed by a + taxicab in New York, so that saved her any divorce proceedings; and when + your cablegram reached her she was a single lady who had been heartlessly + jilted. The first thing she did was to hire a lawyer, and the first person + that lawyer called on was Alden P. Ricks, the old family friend. It + appears a suit for breach of promise was to be instituted unless a fairly + satisfactory financial settlement could be arrived at.” + </p> + <p> + “How much did she want?” Joey barely whispered the words. + </p> + <p> + “Only a million.” + </p> + <p> + “How much did you settle for? I'll pay it out of my inheritance, Mr. + Ricks. Don't worry! I won't see you stuck, for you've stood by me through + thick and thin.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I didn't give her anything, Joey. I just had her lawyer bring her on + to San Francisco for a conference. Of course when lunch time came round + and I hadn't heard any proposition I felt I could submit to your father, I + invited Miss Fontaine and her lawyer to luncheon with me in the Palace + Hotel Grill, and while we were lunching, who should come up and greet me + but my old friend, the Duke of Killiekrankie, formerly Duncan MacGregor, + first mate of our barkentine <i>Retriever</i>. Mac is an excellent fellow + and for some time I had felt he merited promotion. So I made him a duke. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the duke was awfully glad to see me, and being a gentleman I + couldn't do less than introduce him to the lady and her lawyer. He only + stayed at our table a minute and then rejoined his friends, but all during + the meal I could see Betsy Jane's mind wasn't on her breach-of-promise + suit. She asked me several questions about the duke, and I told her I + didn't know much about him except that he was sinfully rich and a + globe-trotter, and that we'd met in Paris. Lies, Joey, but pardonable, I + hope, under the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joey, it seems that she and the duke were registered at the same + hotel and I'll be shot if his lordship didn't meet her—by accident, + of course—in the lobby that afternoon. He lifted his hat and she + smiled and they had a chat. The next day she cut an engagement with her + lawyer and me to go motoring with the duke in my French car, and Florry's + chauffeur driving, for, of course, the duke was an expensive luxury and I + was trying to save a dollar wherever possible. That night the duke gave a + dinner party in honor of the lady—and he gave it aboard his yacht, + the <i>Doris</i>, formerly the <i>Seafarer</i>, right out here in San + Francisco harbor—” + </p> + <p> + Joey went up and put his arm round Cappy's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cappy Ricks, Cappy Ricks!” he cried, and then his voice broke and his + eyes filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Cappy continued, “I had sort o' suspected she might pull that + breach-of-promise stuff on you, Joey—” + </p> + <p> + “What made you suspect it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I sort of suspected you were going to marry Doris Kenyon—” + </p> + <p> + “You planned to get us together on the same ship—!” + </p> + <p> + “Only place I could think of where you were safe from the Honolulu lady + and couldn't run away from Doris, Joey. Well, as I say, I had sort of + suspected she might sue you and disgrace you and break the heart of that + little girl I'd picked out for you long before you ever met her—so I + started to get there first and with the heaviest guns, I borrowed your + yacht for the duke and had him sail her round himself, so he'd have her + here to give the dinner party on. Then I got a Burke's peerage and told + MacGregor who he was and had him study up on his family history and get + acquainted with his sister, Lady Mary, and his younger brother, the + Honorable Cecil Something-or-other—in particular he was not to + forget to rave about the grouse shooting in Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy paused and puffed his cigar meditatively for half a minute. + </p> + <p> + “Joey,” he continued, “any time you run a bluff, run a good one. If you're + starring a globe-trotting duke, have his ancestry all straightened out in + advance, because he's bound to break into the newspapers and the motto of + the newspaper editor is 'Show me.' And the yacht—just one of the + props of the comedy, Joey; and with a little cockney steward in livery to + say 'Your ludship'; and the name of the yacht changed in case she'd ever + heard you speak about the <i>Seafarer;</i> and the cabin done over in + white enamel with mahogany trim; and a new set of dishes with your family + crest and the name of the yacht on every piece in case you had ever had + her aboard; and a private secretary—borrowed him from my general + manager, Skinner, by the way—we were certainly there when it came to + throwing the ducal front. And we got away with it, for MacGregor's accent + is just Scotchy enough, and he comes of good family and has excellent + manners. Yes, I must say Mac made a very comfortable duke. Skinner's young + man tells me it would bring tears of joy to your eyes to see him kiss the + lady's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joey, the upshot of it was that after paying violent court to the + lady for two weeks—Mac said he could have pulled the stunt the night + of the dinner, for she fell for the title right way, but I told him to + make haste slowly—the duke received a cablegram calling him home + from his furlough. Oh, yes, Joey, I had him in the army. Any young + unattached duke that doesn't join the British army these days doesn't get + by in good society, and I had my duke on a six months' furlough to recover + from his wounds. Fortunately a bunch of cedar shingles had fallen on Mac's + foot recently and he was dog lame, which strengthened the play. + </p> + <p> + “Of course the duke was up in the air right away. In a passionate scene he + confessed his love for that damsel of yours, Joey, and laid his dukedom at + her feet. Would she marry him P. D. Q. and help him sail the yacht home? + Would she? 'Oh, darling, this is so sudden!' she cried, and almost swooned + in his arms. From a cabaret to a dukedom. Some jump! Sail the yacht home + to England through the mine fields and submarines? Perfectly ripping, by + Jove! I give you my word, Joey, she tacked on one of those New York + British accents for the duke's special benefit. There was a lot of beam to + her <i>a</i>'s, Mac told me, but blamed little molded depth to her + mentality. So they were married in haste, and after the duke had seen his + bride in the elevator bound for their rooms at the hotel, he excused + himself to get a highball. And I guess he got the highball, because I find + it in this expense account he turned in to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds like a fairy tale,” Joey murmured in an awed voice. “What did + the duke do next?” + </p> + <p> + “Came right down to this office and informed me he was, plumb weary of the + life of a bon vivant and was anxious to get to sea again. So I made him + master of a new steamer we acquired recently, and he's gone out to + Vladivostok with munitions for the Russians.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't you give him some money, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Why should I? Didn't I give him command of a steamer? You can slip + him a fat check if you feel that way about it, but I never coddle my + skippers, Joey, until I'm sure they're worth while. I think, however, that + Mac will make good. He's very thorough.” + </p> + <p> + “Wha—what became of Ernestine?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by Godfrey, that's a sad story, Joey. It seems she waited at the + hotel for the duke to come back and he didn't come, so the following + morning she went down to the water front looking for the yacht—and + the yacht was gone. During the night I'd had it towed over to Sausalito; + consequently the launchman she hired couldn't find it down in Mission Bay, + and back to the beach she came. After a couple of days had passed, + however, she commenced to smell a rat, so she came down to my office and + asked me if I'd seen anything of the duke. + </p> + <p> + “'Why, yes, I have,' I told her. 'The old duke came in here yesterday + afternoon, soused to the guards, and complaining he'd been cruelly + deceived into marrying a two-time loser with a couple of youngsters, and + inasmuch as he was certain the family wouldn't receive her he was leaving + the United States immediately, never to return. + </p> + <p> + “'And this morning the justice of the peace who performed the ceremony + mailed him the license, which has been duly recorded in the office of the + Secretary of State in accordance with law; and inasmuch as the license was + sent to him in my care I am holding it in our safe until he calls for it.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joey, she looked at me and she knew the stuff was all off. She'd + married the duke; I had the license to prove it, and of course she + realized her breach of promise suit and claim for a million dollars' worth + of heart balm would be laughed out of court if she had the crust to + present it. So she did the next best thing. She abused me like a + pickpocket and ended up by getting hysterical when I told her how I'd + swindled her. When she got through crying I lectured her on the error of + her ways and suggested that inasmuch as she had had one divorce already, + another wouldn't be much of a strain on her, and I'd foot the bill for + separating her legally from John Doe, alias the duke, on a charge of + desertion. Then I offered her a thousand dollars and a ticket back to New + York for the surrender of all your letters to her and that infernal + cablegram and a release of all claims against you. I guess she was broke + for she grabbed it in a hurry, Joey. The atmosphere is now clear, my son, + and nothing further remains to be done in the premises, save settle the + bill of expense. Fortunately the <i>Tyee</i> made money on that fast + voyage under your command, but the cost of bringing the yacht round from + New York, doing over the cabin, buying the new dishes with the crest, and + settling with the lady should rightfully be borne by you. As I say, the + duke was expensive, for the rascal certainly rolled 'em high. Skinner has + made me up a statement of the total cost, with interest at six per cent to + date, and it appears, Joey, that you owe your godfather $12,143.18. On the + day you come into your inheritance, add six per cent to that sum and send + me a check.” + </p> + <p> + “But the twenty-five thousand dollars I won from you—” Joey began, + but Cappy held up a rigid finger, enjoining silence. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to stick your dub of a father for that, as a penance for his + sins of omission, Joey; for by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, if ever a boy + won a bet and was entitled to it, you're that young man. In-fer-nal young + scoundrel! Keep it and split fifty-fifty with your wife. You won a + straight bet from a crooked gambler, and if I haven't had a million + dollars' worth of fun out of this transaction I hope I may marry a + hula-hula woman—and I've passed my three score and ten and ought to + know better!” + </p> + <p> + “But about this man MacGregor—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about him. The Scotch are a hardy race and Mac is a sailor. + Joey, I know sailors. The scoundrels have a wife in every port!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + During the period when Joey Gurney was busy doing all that Cappy Ricks + desired him to do and some things that were slightly off Cappy's program, + the president emeritus of the Blue Star Navigation Company and allied + interests was discovering that it is one thing to declare for the simple + life and quite another to live it. The Great War challenged so much of the + Ricks interest that he could not bear to live far from morning and evening + editions—and he wanted them red hot off the presses. Things were + doing in the shipping world. The most inconceivable trades were being + consummated daily, freights were soaring, lumber prices had reached an + unprecedentedly high level and promised to go higher; there was something + doing every minute and not enough minutes in a working day to accommodate + half of these somethings. What more natural, therefore, than that Cappy + presently should find himself caught in the maelstrom, even though he told + himself daily that, come what might <i>he</i> would keep out of it. + </p> + <p> + The first indefinite evidence that he was about to be engulfed came in the + form of a newspaper story, ex the steamer <i>Timaru</i>, from Sydney, via + Tahiti. There it was, as big as a church—a paragraph of it, tucked + away in a column-and-a-half story of the bombardment of Papeete by the + German Pacific fleet early in September of 1914: + </p> + <p> + “An incident of the bombardment was the sinking of the German freight + steamer <i>Valkyrie</i> by shells from the German fleet. The vessel had + been captured by the French gunboat <i>Zeile</i> some weeks previous and + was at anchor in the harbor, under the guns of the <i>Zeile</i>, when the + German squadron appeared off the entrance. The gunboat immediately was + made the target for the German guns, and sunk. During the attack, however, + a wild shell missed the <i>Zeile</i> and struck the <i>Valkyrie</i>, + tearing a great hole in her hull and causing her to sink in ten fathoms at + her anchorage.” + </p> + <p> + Ten fathoms! Sixty feet! Why, at that depth Cappy should have known that + her masts and funnel would be above water; that in all probability she + carried war-risk insurance; that she was so far from anywhere the + underwriters would have abandoned her, even had she not been a prize of + war, since there are no appliances in Papeete for salving a vessel of her + size; that she could be raised if one cared to spend a little money on + doing it; that one projectile probably had not ruined her beyond repair; + that she was a menace to navigation in Papeete Harbor and hence would have + to be gotten out of the way, either by dynamite or auction; that—well, + any number of thats should have occurred to Cappy Ricks to suggest the + advisability of keeping track of the wreck of the <i>Valkyrie</i>. + However, for some mysterious reasons—his resentment against the + German cause, probably—the golden prospect never appealed to him, + for when he had finished reading the article he merely said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you know about that? Skinner, it's a mighty lucky thing for + that German admiral that I'm not the Kaiser, for I'd certainly make him + hard to catch. The idea of sinking that fine steamer—and a German + steamer at that! Here was the little old French gunboat, about as + invulnerable as a red-cedar shingle; and instead of moving into proper + position and raking her with their light guns—instead of calling on + her to surrender—these Germans had to go to work in a hurry and + inaugurate a campaign of frightfulness. The minute they were off the + harbor—Zowie! Blooey! Bam! It was all over but the cheering, and + they'd chucked an eight-inch projectile through a ship that was worth four + of the gunboat. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, that's what I call spilling the beans. Why they didn't take + their time, recapture that freighter and give her skipper a chance to + hustle across to San Francisco or Honolulu and intern, is a mystery to me. + The idea! Why, for that German fleet to waste ammunition on that Jim-Crow + town and a hand-me-down gunboat was equivalent to John L. Sullivan + whittling out a handle on a piece of two-by-four common fir in order to + attack a cockroach!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy was so incensed that he growled about the Germans for an hour. Then + he forgot the <i>Valkyrie</i>, notwithstanding the fact that the press + jogged his memory again when the German fleet, deciding that prudence was + the better part of valor, fled from the Pacific to escape the Japanese, + only to be destroyed in the South Atlantic by the British fleet. A resume + of the operations of the German squadron in the Pacific brought forth + mention of the destruction of the <i>Zeile</i> and the <i>Valkyrie</i>. + However, Cappy's mind was not in Tahiti now, but off the Falkland Islands, + for he was very much pro-Ally and devoted more thought to military and + naval strategy than he did to the lumber and shipping business. + </p> + <p> + However, the climax of Cappy's indignation over the disaster to the <i>Valkyrie</i> + was not attained until a few months later when, in conversation on the + floor of the Merchants' Exchange with the skipper of the schooner <i>Tarus</i>, + who happened to have been in Papeete at the bombardment, he learned he had + done the German admiral a grave injustice. He came back to his office, + boiling, declaring the French were a crazy nation, and that, after all, he + could recall meeting one or two fine Germans during the course of a fairly + busy career. He summoned Mr. Skinner and Matt Peasley to hear the sordid + tale. + </p> + <p> + “Remember that steamer <i>Valkyrie</i> the Germans were supposed to have + sunk by accident in the harbor of Papeete during the bombardment in + September of 1914?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I read something about it in the papers at the time,” Mr. + Skinner replied. + </p> + <p> + “What about her?” Matt Peasley demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Germans didn't sink her at all, Matt! The Frenchmen did it,” + Cappy shrilled. “The crazy, frog-eating jumping-jacks of Frenchmen! The + tramp wasn't flying the German flag—naturally the Frenchmen had + hauled it down; so the Germans didn't investigate her. Besides, they were + in a hurry—you'll remember the Japs were on their trail at the time; + so they just devoted forty minutes to shooting up the town, and beat it. I + don't suppose they ever knew they hit the <i>Valkyrie</i>; perhaps they + figured that, having sunk the gunboat, the <i>Valkyrie</i> could up hook + and away at her leisure, since there was nothing left to prevent her. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Makes me sick to talk about it; but the skipper of the <i>Taurus</i> + was there at the time and he tells me that, though the <i>Valkyrie</i> was + pretty well down by the stern, her bulkheads were holding and she wouldn't + have sunk if those blamed Frenchmen, fearful that the German fleet was + coming back after her, hadn't gone aboard and opened her sea cocks! Yes, + sir. Rather than risk having her recaptured, they opened her sea cocks and + sunk her! And, at that, they didn't have sense enough to run her out to + deep water. No! They had to do the trick as she lay at anchor; and there + she lies still, a menace to navigation and a perennial reminder to those + Papeete Frenchmen that he who acts in haste will repent at leisure.” + </p> + <p> + To this outburst Mr. Skinner made some perfunctory remark, attributing the + situation to a lack of efficiency, while Matt Peasley went back to his + office and grieved as he reflected on the corrosive action of salt water + on those fine, seven-year-old engines. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + Time passed. Mr. Skinner developed a pallor and irritability that bespoke + all too truly an attack of nerves, from overwork, and sore against his + will was hustled off to Honolulu for a rest while Cappy Ricks had the + audacity to take charge of the lumber business. Whereupon Mr. J. Augustus + Redell, of the West Coast Trading Company, discovered the unprotected + condition of the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company and promptly, in sheer + wanton deviltry, proceeded to sew Cappy Ricks up on an order for a million + grape stakes. + </p> + <p> + A word here regarding the said J. Augustus Redell. He was a blithe, joyous + creature, still in the sunny thirties, and what he didn't know about the + lumber business—particularly the marketing of lumber products—could + be tucked into anybody's eyes without impairing their eyesight. Mr. Redell + had fought his way up from office boy with the Black Butte Lumber Company + to lumber broker with offices of his own. He had owned a retail yard in + which business he had gone “bust” for more money than the world appeared + to contain. But he had fought his way back and paid a hundred cents on the + dollar, including some hundred and forty thousand dollars he had owed the + Ricks mills at the time of his collapse. Because he was young and fine and + good-natured and brave and brilliant, Cappy had always admired J. Augustus + Redell, but after the latter had so splendidly re-established his credit + and formed a partnership with a Peruvian gentleman, one Senor Luiz + Almeida, known locally as Live Wire Luiz, Cappy found that he had for the + genial J. Augustus an admiration that amounted to affection. The West + Coast Trading Company, under which title Live Wire Luiz and J. Augustus + Redell did a lumber brokerage business with Mexico, Central American and + South American countries principally, had Cappy Ricks' entire confidence, + although he would have died rather than admit this. Live Wire Luiz he + ignored and always dismissed as a factor in the affairs of that company, + but whenever Redell had a deal on that was too heavy for his financial + sinews, Cappy could always be depended upon to lend a helping hand. On his + part, Redell revered Cappy Ricks as only an idealistic and naturally + lovable rascal of a boy can revere an idealistic and lovable old man. To + J. Augustus Redell little, old, naive, whimsical, gentle, terrible, + brilliant, cunning, generous, altruistic, prudent, youthful old Cappy + Ricks was a joy forever. With the impishness of his tender years, Mr. + Redell could conceive of no greater joy than picking on Cappy Ricks just + to see the latter fight back. + </p> + <p> + Quite early in their friendship, the astute Redell discovered a rift in + Cappy's armor—two rifts, in fact. The first was that Cappy feared + and loathed old age and fiercely resented even the most shadowy intimation + that with age he was, to employ a sporting phrase, “losing his punch.” The + second weakness that lay exposed to Redell was Cappy's passion for + wringing a profit, by ingenious means, from apparently barren soil where + no profit had ever hitherto burgeoned. At heart Cappy was a speculator; + only the fact that he was a prudent and careful speculator had conduced to + enrich him rather than impoverish him. + </p> + <p> + Now, Cappy was fully convinced, from optical evidence, that J. Augustus + Redell was a gambler. He admired Redell's genius for business, the + soundness of his decisions, the alertness of his mind and the brilliance + of his financial <i>coups</i>, but—he deprecated the younger man's + daring. Cappy called it recklessness. By degrees the old gentleman had + come to assume a proprietary interest in Gus Redell and the latter's + affairs, for the younger man frequently sought counsel from Cappy and not + infrequently, a loan! Cappy knew his young friend to be the soul of manly + honor, but—he was young! Ah, yes! He was young. Ergo, he was + foolish. True, his foolishness had not as yet been discovered, but Cappy + was certain it would come to the surface sooner or later. The boy was + reckless—a gambler. Cappy abhorred gambling. He never gambled. + Occasionally he speculated! What more natural, therefore, than that little + Cappy should presently arrogate to himself the privilege of stabbing young + J. Augustus to the vitals from time to time, just to impress upon the boy + the knowledge that this is a hard, cold, cruel world with a great many bad + men in it! + </p> + <p> + Nothing could possibly have delighted Redell more. Whenever Cappy stabbed + him, forthwith he set about to stab Cappy in return, and thus had + developed a joyous business feud. These best of friends spent an hour and + a half daily, at luncheon, “picking” on each other, telling tales on each + other, eternally “joshing” for the edification of a coterie of their + lumber and shipping friends who always lunched in a private dining room at + the Commercial Club and who were known within that organization as the + Bilgewater Club. + </p> + <p> + Early in 1915 Redell had seen an opportunity for inducing Cappy Ricks to + speculate in grape stakes—to his financial hurt and humiliation. + There was to be an election that fall—a special election to see + whether California should “go dry” or “stay wet,” and for some reason not + quite apparent to Mr. Redell, a great many people believed the state would + “go dry.” Among the people who so believed, Redell discovered, were the + woodsmen who, during the winter of 1914, would, under normal conditions, + have split from redwood trees sufficient grape stakes to support such new + vineyards as would come into bearing in the fall of 1915. Fearing that + there would be no market for their grape stakes when the making of wine + should be prohibited by law, these woodsmen had made no effort to supply + the demand; wherefore the Machiavellian J. Augustus Redell, taking + advantage of Mr. Skinner's absence from the office of the Ricks mills, + cleverly managed to inculcate in Cappy Ricks the idea that it would be a + splendid and profitable venture if he, the said Cappy, should wade into + the grape stake market and corner it. The idea appealed to the speculative + part of the old gentleman's nature and he had gone to work in a hurry, + only to discover, after he had accepted orders from the West Coast Trading + Company for a great many carloads of grape stakes for future delivery, + that, when the day of reckoning should come, he would not be enabled to + pick up enough grape stakes to fill his orders, for the very sufficient + reason that nobody had manufactured grape stakes for that year's market, + and they were not available at any price! + </p> + <p> + It had been a cruel blow and Cappy's weakness had been exposed without + mercy to the members of the Bilgewater Club by Mr. Redell, who thereafter + kept both eyes wide open, knowing that sooner or later Cappy would + retaliate. + </p> + <p> + Retaliation was, of course, inevitable. Cappy realized this. For the first + time in his career as a lumber and shipping king the sly old dog realized + he had been out-thought, out-played, out-gamed and man-handled by a mere + pup. And, though he had taken his beating like the rare old sport that he + was, nevertheless the leaves of memory had a horrible habit of making a + most melancholy rustling; and for two weeks, following his ignominious + rout at the hands of J. Augustus Redell, Cappy's days and nights were + entirely devoted to scheming ways and means of vengeance. Curiously + enough, it was the West Coast Trading Company that accorded him the + opportunity he craved. + </p> + <p> + Having massacred Cappy in the grape-stake deal and established an + unlimited credit thereby, the West Coast Lumber Company, per Senor Felipe + Luiz Almeida, alias Live Wire Luiz, decided to purchase a little jag of + spruce from the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company. Cappy Ricks looked at + the proffered order, saw that it called for number one clear spruce, and + promptly accepted it at a dollar under the market. He was to bring the + spruce in to San Francisco on one of his own schooners, lay her alongside + the <i>City of Panama</i> and discharge it into her, for delivery at + Salina Cruz, Mexico. + </p> + <p> + Cappy knew, of course, that Live Wire Luiz handled exclusively the West + Coast Trading Company's Mexican, Central and South American business. He + knew, also, that there were many points about the lumber business that the + explosive little Peruvian had still to learn; so he decided to stab the + West Coast Trading Company, through the innocent and trusting Senor + Almeida, with a weapon he would not have dreamed of employing had J. + Augustus Redell placed the order. Live Wire Luiz knew the Ricks Lumber + & Logging Company always sold its output on mill tally and inspection; + that Cappy Ricks' grading rules were much fairer to his customers than + those of his competitors; that when he contracted to deliver number one + clear spruce he would deliver exactly that and challenge anybody to pick a + number two board out of the lot. But what Live Wire Luiz did not know was + that there are two kinds of number one spruce on the Pacific Coast. One + grows in California and the other in Oregon and Washington—and Cappy + Ricks had both kinds for sale. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” Cappy murmured as he glanced over Live Wire Luiz's order after the + latter had gone. “Number one clear spruce, eh? All right, sir! Away down + in my wicked heart I know you want some nice number one stock from our + Washington mill, at Port Hadlock; but unfortunately you have failed to + stipulate it—so we'll slip you a little of the California product + and teach you something you ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Cappy sent the order to his mill on Humboldt Bay, California. + Though this plant manufactured redwood lumber almost exclusively, whenever + the woods boss came across a nice spruce or bull-pine tree among the + redwood he was wont to send it down to the mill, where it was sawed and + set aside for trusting individuals like Live Wire Luiz. When seasoned this + spruce was very good stock. Unfortunately, however, experts differ in + their diagnosis of California spruce. There are those who will tell you it + is not spruce, but a bastard fir; while others will tell you it is not + fir, but a bastard spruce. Cappy Ricks had no definite ideas on the + subject, for he didn't own enough of that kind of stumpage to grieve him. + All he knew or cared was that when such outlawed stock was billed as + spruce no judge or jury in the land could say it was fir; also, that in + its green state it possessed an abominable odor! + </p> + <p> + The lumber was delivered to the <i>City of Panama</i> in due course and, + as Cappy had suspected, Live Wire Luiz failed to come down to her dock and + take a smell. This was a privilege left intact for the consignee at Salina + Cruz; and he, according to Mexican custom, which only demands a ghost of + an excuse to seek a rebate, promptly wired a protest and declared himself + swindled to the extent of five dollars a thousand feet, gold. + </p> + <p> + Also, having been similarly outraged once before, he demanded to know why + he had been sent California spruce; whereupon Live Wire Luiz called up + Cappy Ricks, abused him roundly and sent him a bill for six dollars a + thousand, rebate! Unfortunately for the West Coast Trading Company, + however, it had already discounted Cappy's invoice; so the latter could + afford to stand pat—which he did. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + Shortly after noon on the day of his small triumph over the West Coast + Trading Company, Cappy Ricks bustled up California Street, bound for + luncheon with the Bilgewater Club. + </p> + <p> + On this day, of all days, Cappy would not have missed luncheon with the + Bilgewater Club for a farm. As he breezed along there was a smile on his + ruddy old face and a lilt in his kind old heart, for he was rehearsing his + announcement to his youthful friends of how he had but recently tanned the + hide of a brother! He almost laughed aloud as he pictured himself solemnly + relating, in the presence of J. Augustus Redell and Live Wire Luiz, the + tale of the ill-favored spruce, excusing his own mendacity the while on + the ground that he wasn't a mind reader; that if the West Coast Lumber + Company desired northern spruce they should have stipulated northern + spruce; that, as alleged business men, it was high time they were made + aware of the ancient principle of <i>caveat emptor</i>, which means, as + every schoolboy knows, that the buyer must protect himself in the clinches + and breakaways. And lastly, he planned to claim it the solemn duty of the + aged to instruct the young and ignorant in the hard school of experience. + </p> + <p> + Judge, therefore, of his disappointment when, on entering the lobby of the + Merchants' Exchange Building, on the two top floors of which the + Commercial Club is situated, he encountered Redell and Live Wire Luiz + leaving the elevator. + </p> + <p> + The West Coast Trading Company had offices in the same building and, as + Redell carried a plethoric suit case, while Live Wire Luiz followed with a + small hand bag, Cappy realized they were bound for parts unknown. In + consequence of which he realized he had rehearsed to no purpose his expose + of the pair before the Bilgewater Club. He halted the partners and secured + a firm grip on the lapel of each. + </p> + <p> + “Cowards!” he sneered. “Running out on me, eh? By Judas Priest, I just + knew you didn't dast to stay and hear me tell the boys about that spruce. + Drat you! The next time you'll know the difference between attar of roses + and California spruce!” + </p> + <p> + Redell put down his suit case, pulled out his watch, glanced at it and + then at his partner. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell him, Luiz?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + Live Wire Luiz thereupon consulted his watch, scratched his ear and said: + </p> + <p> + “Friend of my heart, do you theenk eet ees safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. He isn't a bit dangerous, Luiz. He's lost all his teeth and all + he can do now is sit and bay at the moon.” + </p> + <p> + Live Wire Luiz shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “I theenk maybe so you are right, <i>amigo mio</i>. The steamer she will + go to depart in half an hour, an' that ees not time for thees ol' + high-binder to do somet'ing. Eet ees what you call one stiff li'l' order. + I admit thees spruce bandit ees pretty smart, but—” again Live Wire + Luiz shrugged his expressive shoulders—“he ees pretty ol', no? I + theenk to myself he have lose—what you call heem? ah, yes, he have + lose hees punch!” + </p> + <p> + “I fear he has, Luiz; so I'll tell him. At least the knowledge will gravel + him and take all the joy out of that stinking little spruce swindle of + his.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twon't neither!” Gappy challenged. “I stung you there—drat your + picture!—and I'm glad I did it. I rejoice in my wickedness. Cost you + five hundred dollars for making a monkey out of the old man in that + grape-stake deal, Gus.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Redell wonderingly, “I thought you'd forgiven me that, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have; but I haven't forgotten. Expect me to lose my self-respect and + forget about it? No, sir! When I go into a deal and emerge in the red, I + take a look at my loss-and-gain account and forget it; but when I'm + ravished of my self—respect-wow! Look out below and get out from + under! In-fer-nal young scoundrel! If I don't show you two before I die + that I haven't lost my punch I'll come back from the grave to ha'nt you. + Go on and spin your little tale, Augus-tus. You can't tell me anything + that'll make me mad. What you got on your mind besides your hair, Gus? Out + with it, boy; out with it! I'm listening.” + </p> + <p> + And Cappy came close to Redell and inclined his head close to the young + fellow's breast; whereupon Redell put his lips close to Cappy's ear and + answered hoarsely: + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to Papeete to bid in that sunken German steamer, <i>Valkyrie</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” he said. “Is that all? Well, when you return from Papeete you're + going to take another journey right away.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the bankruptcy court first, and then up to the Home for the + Feeble-Minded. On the level, boy, you're overdue at the foolish farm.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take a chance, Cappy. All you old graybeards can do is sit on the + fence and decry the efforts of the rising generation. You just croak and + knock. Of course I admit that once on a time an opportunity couldn't fly + by you so fast you wouldn't get some of the tail feathers; but that was a + long time ago.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and glanced at his partner. Sorrowfully Live Wire Luiz tapped + his forehead with his brown, cigarette-stained forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Senile decay!” Redell murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Sure; I bet you, Mike!” Live Wire Luiz answered. + </p> + <p> + He wagged his head lugubriously, turned aside and affected to wipe away a + vagrant tear with his salmon-colored silk handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” Cappy rasped. “This thing is getting personal. Never mind + about my years, you pup. If my back is bent a trifle it's from carrying a + load of experience and other people's mistakes. And never mind about my + noodle! It may have a few knots and shakes in it, but they're tight and + sound, and it's free of pitch pockets, wane and rotten streaks; so this + old head grades as merchantable timber still. + </p> + <p> + “As for your head, Gus, and that of this human firecracker with you, both + have streaks of sap round the edges, and I'll prove it to you yet. No; on + second thought I don't have to prove it. You've already done that + yourself! You're going to Papeete to try to bid in the <i>Valkyrie</i>, + and she's junk!” + </p> + <p> + “Partly.” Redell admitted. “She's been under water about two years and I + suppose the teredo have digested her upper works by now; but they can be + rebuilt quickly and without a great deal of expense.” + </p> + <p> + “How about her boilers? You'll have to retube them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so. I was talking with Captain Hippard, of the + Morrison-Hippard Line. They had the steamer <i>Chinook</i> under water a + year in Norton Sound, but they raised her and brought her to San Francisco + under her own steam. You know, Cappy, it's the combination of water and + air that makes iron and steel rust. It seems that when a boiler is under + water and not exposed to the air it rusts very slowly; also, the rust is + like a soft film—it doesn't pit and scale off in great flakes. And a + couple of years under water will not do any appreciable damage to the <i>Valkyrie's</i> + boilers. The <i>Chinook</i> is running yet, notwithstanding the fact that + fifteen years ago she was submerged for a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” Cappy grunted. + </p> + <p> + “The same condition, of course, holds true with regard to her hull, only + more so,” Redell continued. “The paint will protect the hull perfectly. Of + course if, after getting her up, she is permitted to lie exposed to the + air, the soft film of rust will promptly harden and scale off and she'll + go to glory in a few months. However, nothing like that will happen, + because the minute she's up she'll be thoroughly cleaned and scrubbed and + painted. Of course the asbestos cover will have peeled off her boilers, + but even at that I'll bring her to San Francisco under her own steam. + She'll just be ungodly hot below decks and a hog for coal until the + boilers are re-covered.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy sighed. He was not prepared to combat this argument, for he had a + sneaking impression Redell was right. However, he returned undaunted to + the attack. + </p> + <p> + “She's shot full of holes,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “She has one hole through her, and when she's loaded light that hole is + above water line. The wrecking vessel that goes down to salve her will + have steel plates, tools and mechanics aboard, and new plates can be put + in temporarily. And if that cannot be done those holes can be patched with + planking and cemented over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all right. Grant that. But think of her engines, Gus. Think of + those fine, smooth bearings and polished steel rods all corroded and + pitted by salt water. The water may not have a disastrous effect on the + boilers and hull, but an engine can't stand any rust at all and still + remain one hundred per cent efficient. I tell you I know, Gus. I had my <i>Amelia + Ricks</i> submerged on Duxbury Reef for a week; then I hauled her off and + she lay on the tide flats in Mission Bay another three weeks until I could + patch her up and float her into the dry dock. Do you know what it cost me + to make her engines over again? Thirteen thousand dollars, young man—and, + at that, they're nothing to brag of now.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right; but that's because you didn't employ a German engineer and + tell him you were going to put the <i>Amelia Ricks</i> on Duxbury Reef. + Are you familiar with the characteristics of German engineers, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + Cappy threw up both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'm neutral, Gus. Between them and the French it's a case of heads I win, + tails you lose.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Cappy. You're wrong. The Germans are a careful, thrifty, + painstaking, systematic race, and the chief of the <i>Valkyrie</i> was the + flower of the flock. When that little French gunboat captured her this + chief engineer looked into the future and saw himself and the <i>Valkyrie</i> + interned indefinitely—and he didn't like it. It just broke his heart + to think of a stranger messing round among his engines; so the instant he + got into Papeete and blew down his boilers he did a wise thing. He knew + the war risk insurance would probably cover the <i>Valkyrie's</i> loss as + a war prize, but there was a chance that her German owners might send one + of their hyphenated brethren down to Papeete to buy her in the prize + court; and if that happened the chief wanted them to have a good ship. + Perhaps, also, he figured on getting his old job back after the war. At + any rate he got out a barrel of fine heavy grease and slobbered up his + engines for fair.” + </p> + <p> + It was too much. Cappy Ricks was too fine a sport not to acknowledge a + beating; he was too generous not to rejoice in a competitor's gain. + </p> + <p> + “You lucky, lucky scoundrel!” he murmured in an awed voice. “Not enough + salt water will get through that grease to hurt those engines. Gus, how + did you find this all out?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can bet your whiskers, Cappy, I didn't depend on hearsay + evidence and water-front reporters to dig it up for me. The minute I heard + her sea cocks had been opened and that her funnels and masts were sticking + up out of the harbor I concluded I was interested; so I sent Bill Jinks, + of our office, down to Papeete to get me some first-hand information. The + chief of the <i>Valkyrie</i> is interned there, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “May mad dogs bite me! Why in the name of all that's sweet and holy didn't + I have sense enough to do that?” Cappy mourned. + </p> + <p> + “You have lose the punch!” chirped Live Wire Luiz, and Cappy glared at + him. + </p> + <p> + “She's an honest vessel, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what you s'pose she have in her?” Live Wire Luiz demanded. “Oh, + notheeng very much, Senor Ricks. Just two t'ousand tons of phosphate.” + </p> + <p> + “Worth ten or twelve dollars a ton, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “An' t'irteen hundred tons of the good coal to bring her to San Francisco, + <i>Ai</i>, Santa Maria!” Live Wire Luiz blew a kiss airily into space and + added: “I die weeth dee-light!” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't got her yet,” Cappy snapped viciously. + </p> + <p> + “No; but we'll get her all right,” Redell declared confidently. + </p> + <p> + “How'll you get her?” + </p> + <p> + “We've only one real competitor to buck—an Australian steamship + company. They're crazy to get her; and as there are no French bidders on + this side of the world, naturally and in view of the present condition of + world politics the French authorities in Papeete are pulling for the + Britisher. Jinks is now in Papeete and I'm about to start for there at one + o'clock. Two bids, Cappy; I'll be the dark horse and file my bid at the + last minute, after I've sized up the lay of the land. But, before I do so, + I'm going to take the representative of that Australian steamship company + into my confidence and find out what he's going to bid. For instance, now, + Cappy, if you were bidding against me, how high would you go?” + </p> + <p> + “She's a long way from nowhere,” Cappy replied thoughtfully. “It means + sending a wrecking steamer down there with a lot of expert wreckers, + divers, mechanics and carpenters; it means lumber for cofferdam and + pontoons; it means donkey engines, cables, pumps, the stress of wind and + wave—” + </p> + <p> + “She lies in a protected cove, Cappy; the mean rise and fall of the tide, + so close to the equator, is about eighteen inches, and the water is so + clear you can always see what the divers are doing. Forget the stress of + wind and wave.” + </p> + <p> + “Forty thousand dollars would be my top figure if I were the Australian + bidder,” Cappy declared, and added to himself: “But, as Alden P. Ricks, + seventy-five might not stagger me in view of the present freight rates.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I figured,” Redell answered. “She'll cost us two hundred + thousand dollars before we get her in commission again. I figure the + Australian people will not go over forty thousand dollars. They won't + figure Jinks as a heavyweight. I told him to create the impression that he + was a professional wrecker—a sort of fly-by-night junk dealer, who + would buy the vessel if he could get her at a great bargain. Then I'll + drop quietly into Papeete, and at the eleventh hour fifty-ninth minute + I'll slip in a bid that will top the Australian's. If by any chance Jinks' + bid should also top the Australian's I'll just forfeit the certified check + for ten per cent of my bid, run out and leave the ship to Jinks, the next + highest bidder. The chances are I'll make a few thousand dollars at that.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you purpose raising her—provided you are the successful + bidder?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she has four hatches and she lies on an even keel. I'll build a + coffer dam on her deck round these four hatches and pump her out. If we + have enough pumps we can pump her out faster than the water can leak in + under the coffer dam. When I've lightened her somewhat I'll kick her into + the shore, little by little, until she lies in shallow water with her + bulwarks above the surface. Then I'll patch the holes in her, pump her out—and + up she'll come, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that so glibly,” Gappy growled, “one would almost think you could + whistle it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't feel sore, Cappy. Do you know what a vessel of her age and class is + worth nowadays? Well, I'll tell you. About sixty dollars a ton, dead + weight capacity—and the <i>Valkyrie</i> can carry seven thousand + tons; that's four hundred and twenty thousand dollars—” + </p> + <p> + “If you can get her up,” Cappy interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “If I bid her in I'll get her up. Don't worry.” + </p> + <p> + '“It'll clean you of your bank roll to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Luiz and I aren't millionaires like you; so we'll just form a + corporation and call it the S. S. Valkyrie Company and sell stock in our + venture. I have you down right now for a ten-thousand-dollar subscription + at the very least, though you can have more if you want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Gus,” Cappy pleaded, “if you bid that boat in for forty thousand dollars + I'll give you ten thousand dollars for your bargain and reimburse you for + all the expense you've been put to.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make it—let me see—I'll make it twenty thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “You waste your breath. She'll pay for herself the first year she's in + commission.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll furnish the sinews of war, Gus, for a half interest in her. Let me + add her to the Blue Star Fleet and you'll never regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, Cappy; but Luiz and I are ambitious. We want to get into the + steamship business ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I've offered to do the fair thing by you two lunatics,” Cappy + declared with a great air of finality. “So now I'll deliver my ultimatum: + I'm going to keep the <i>Valkyrie</i> and not give you two as much as one + little piece of her. Yes, sir! I'm going to send a representative to + Papeete and match you and that Australian chap for your shoe-strings. Gus, + you know me! If I ever go after a thing and don't get it, the man that + takes it away from me will know he's been in a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I know it, Cappy—which is why I kept this information + carefully to myself. However, I guess you'll not get in on this good + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “You're too late for the banquet.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one leetle hope ees left for you, Cappy Reeks,” Senor Almeida + asserted. “The <i>Moana</i>, on which my good partner have engaged passage + to-day, ees the last steamer which shall arrive to Papeete before the bids + shall be open. The next steamer, Capitan Reeks ees arrive too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the <i>Moana</i> sails in just twenty-five minutes, Cappy. If + you're thinking of sending a man down to bid against me you'll have to + step lively.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks was now beside himself; this gentle, good-natured heckling had + made of him a venerable Fury. + </p> + <p> + “I'll cable my bid!” he shrilled. + </p> + <p> + “No you won't Cappy, for the reason that there is no cable to Tahiti.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll wireless it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can try that, Cappy. Unfortunately, however, the only wireless + station in Tahiti is a little, old, one-cat-power set. It can receive your + message, but it can't send one that will reach the nearest wireless + station—and that's at Honolulu. And until the bank in Tahiti can + confirm drafts by wireless I imagine it will not pay them on + presentation.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy surrendered. He couldn't stand any more. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Gus,” he said. “Good luck to you! If you get that vessel you'll + deserve her, and when you're forming the S.S. Valkyrie Company I'll head + the list of stock subscribers with a healthy little chunk. You know me, + Gus! I'm the old bell mare in shipping circles; a lot of others will + follow where I lead.” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you the spruce deal, Cappy. You're an awful pirate; but, for + all that, you're a grand piece of work. God bless you!” And Redell put his + arm round the old man affectionately. “Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + And, followed by Live Wire Luiz, who was going to the dock to see his + partner aboard the <i>Moana</i>, Redell disappeared into California + Street. + </p> + <p> + “Dammit!” Cappy soliloquized bitterly. “I can't eat lunch now. One bite + would choke me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + And he turned toward the entrance to the Merchants' Exchange, being minded + to enter a telephone booth and notify the Bilgewater Club he would not be + present that day. As he walked through the gate into the Exchange, + however, he was accosted by a heavy, florid-faced man carrying a thick + woolen watch coat over his arm. This individual was Captain Aaron Porter, + one of the San Francisco bar pilots, and he greeted Cappy with a + respectful query after the old gentleman's health. + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel very well,” Cappy replied wearily. “I'm getting old, captain—getting + old.” + </p> + <p> + Then he noted the watch coat the pilot was carrying and decided + subconsciously that there could be no connection between it and the sultry + August weather prevailing at that moment; consequently it informed the + observant Cappy, as plainly as if it had a tongue and had spoken, that + Captain Aaron Porter expected shortly to be exposed to the chill northwest + winds outside as he piloted a vessel to sea. In the manufacture of sheer + inane conversation, therefore, Cappy tugged the coat and said: + </p> + <p> + “Going to take a ship out this afternoon, captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I'll be responsible for the <i>Moana</i> until we cross the + Potato Patch—” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Moana!</i>” Cappy cried, and pulled out his watch. “You'd better + be stepping lively, then. She sails at one, and you have twenty minutes to + get to Greenwich Street Pier.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's no hurry, Mr. Ricks. She'll be delayed from half to + three-quarters of an hour waiting for the Australian mail. The mail train + from the East is late, and of course the <i>Moana</i> cannot sail till—” + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, captain,” Cappy Ricks interrupted politely, “but I've + just thought of a very important matter. I must run and telephone.” + </p> + <p> + As J. Augustus Redell had just pointed out, twenty minutes was scarcely + ample time in which to decide on the right emissary to send to Papeete, + get into communication with the said individual and induce him to go. In + addition, such a person would have to have time to pack some clothing; + also, to procure a letter of credit at the bank and purchase a ticket, not + to mention the time requisite to receive his instructions and get to the + steamer's dock. But with almost an hour—well, a wide-awake man can + accomplish much in an hour, and Cappy Ricks was a natural leader of + forlorn hopes. In the brief interval required to accomplish the journey + from the door of the Merchants' Exchange to a telephone booth a flock of + bright ideas capered through Cappy's ingenious head like goats on a tin + roof. + </p> + <p> + “Main 2000!” he barked, and in five seconds he had the connection. “Put + Skinner on the line!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy's own private exchange operator had the temerity to inform him that + Mr. Skinner was out at luncheon. + </p> + <p> + “The in-fer-nal scoundrel—just when I need him! Put Captain Matt + Peasley on the line, and be quick about it. Matt! Matt, listen! This is + the old man speaking. Get an earful of what I'm going to tell you now, and + don't ask any questions—just obey! Do you remember that big German + freighter—the Valkyrie—sunk in Papeete Harbor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a prize, Matt. I've just been given a low-down on her condition. + Gus Redell is leaving on the <i>Moana</i> to bid her in at the government + sale—the young scoundrel told me all about it and twitted me because + we were asleep on the job and let the good thing get away from us. The <i>Moana's</i> + supposed to sail at one o'clock, but the Eastern mail is late—she + won't get away from the dock until about one-thirty; but when she does—” + </p> + <p> + “When she does we'll have a man aboard her to beat Redell to the German + steamer,” Matt Peasley interrupted. “I've got the message. Where are you, + father-in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Merchants' Exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “You attend to the funds and I'll do the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound you!” rasped Cappy Ricks. “You're so headstrong, you'll jam + things up yet if you don't listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll have to send somebody Redell doesn't know.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't matter at all. Now, son, will you listen to me? I'll attend + to the money and I'll also frame this entire deal. Is Miss Keenan in the + office—you know—Skinner's stenographer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “She's been wanting to go on a vacation. When I heard about it I asked her + how she'd like a cruise to Alaska—remember we have the <i>Tillicum</i> + leaving at six to-night for St. Michael's. She said that would be fine; so + I gave her a pass and the owner's suite on the <i>Tillicum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “So I hear. Her trunk was sent to the <i>Tillicum's</i> dock this morning + and she has her suit case in the office. She planned to work today and go + aboard the <i>Tillicum</i> after office hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then she's all ready lor a voyage to Tahiti. Have the private + exchange operator phone our wharf office instantly and tell them to load + Miss Keenan's trunk on the first wagon handy and rush it over to the <i>Moana</i>. + Give Miss Keenan fifteen hundred dollars and tell her she's to go to + Papeete. If she kicks about clothes tell her to get along with what she + has and buy what she needs on arrival.” + </p> + <p> + He waited while Matt Peasley gave the necessary instructions to the + exchange operator. Then: + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, sir. Miss Keenan will go. She'll be on her way in five + minutes. I've told her to go aboard and buy her ticket from the purser or + from the ticket agent at the gang plank.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine business! Now who else have we in our employ that I can send? I want + a man—and a rattling smart one.” + </p> + <p> + “Mike Murphy, the skipper of the <i>Narcissus</i>,” Matt suggested. + </p> + <p> + “The very man! He's discharging at Union Street Wharf. Phone the + wharfinger's office and tell him he'll not regret taking a message down to + the dock to Captain Murphy. Murphy will probably be at lunch aboard. Tell + the wharfinger to tell him to throw a few clothes into a suit case—that + he's to go to Papeete on mighty important business—and to meet me at + the head of Greenwich Street Dock at one-twenty, without fail, for his + orders and his money. Having phoned these orders, Matt, take the office + automobile and scorch to the water front to see that they're carried out. + Take Miss Keenan with you. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + And Cappy Ricks dashed out of the Merchants' Exchange as though the devil + was at his heels walloping him at every jump. It was four blocks to the + Marine National Bank, but the California Street cable car took him there + in four minutes. Gasping and perspiring Cappy trotted into the cashier's + office, where for ten precious seconds he stood, open-mouthed, unable to + say a word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ricks,” the cashier greeted him, “if you can't talk make + signs.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy flapped his hands and made three rapid strokes with his index + finger, like a motion-picture actor writing a twelve-line letter; then the + words came in a veritable cascade. + </p> + <p> + “Letters of credit,” he croaked-“two.” The cashier picked up a pencil and + a scratch pad. “One, twenty-five thousand, favor Michael J. Murphy; one, + favor—oh, what in blue blazes is that girl's first name? Oh, dear! + Oh, dear! I never heard her first name—she's just Miss Keenan. Oh, + the devil! Call her Matilda—that's it—Matilda Keenan—fifty + thousand dollars for her; and—” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to be in a terrific hurry for them, Mr. Ricks, so I'll get + them started immediately,” the cashier interrupted, and turned his + memorandum over to an underling, with instructions to give Mr. Ricks' + letters of credit precedence over all other business. + </p> + <p> + “Now write—check—your favor—seventy thousand. I'll sign + it—hope Skinner has enough cash on deposit; if he hasn't—my + personal note, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “A mere trifle, Mr. Ricks. We will not worry over that.” The cashier + filled in the check and Cappy signed it with a trembling hand. “And now,” + the cashier continued, “we will have to have Miss Keenan and Mr. Murphy + come to the bank to register their respective signatures—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing!” Cappy piped. “Give me the cards and I'll have 'em write + their signatures on them aboard the steamer and send them ashore by the + pilot. None o' your efficiency monkey business, my son! I guarantee + everything.” + </p> + <p> + He dashed to the telephone and yelled into the receiver: “Taxicab! + Taxicab!” + </p> + <p> + “One of the cars belonging to the bank is at the curb, Mr. Ricks. The + chauffeur will take you wherever you desire to go,” the cashier suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Bully for you!” Again Cappy commenced to flap his hands. “Stenographer—where's + the stenographer? Oh, Judas Priest, nobody helps me! Bless your sweet + heart, my dear, here you are, aren't you? Yes, and I'll not forget you for + it either. No, no, no! No notes. Just stick piece of paper in the + typewriter—now then! Ready! Dictation direct to machine. Er—ah! + Harumph-h-h! Oh, suffering sailor! What's the name of the French bank in + Papeete? I don't know. I'm a director and vice president of this infernal + bank—and I don't know I'm alive! Man, man, I want it—a thing—a + what-you-may-call-'em—a—Oh, the devil! Why do I deposit in + this dratted bank? Eureka! I have it! I want a notice.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean an advice, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Bully boy! An advice. That's it. Holy mackerel, how I love a man that's + fast on his feet! A notice to the bank in Papeete, Island of Tahiti, that + you've given Captain Michael J. Murphy a letter of credit for twenty-five + thousand dollars—only one notice for one letter of credit. I'm up to + skullduggery. Man, man, why don't you dictate? Usual courtesies—good + customer of your bank—you know; usual flubdub. No advice regarding + Miss Keenan's letter of credit—just Murphy's.” + </p> + <p> + The cashier good-naturedly shouldered Cappy Ricks aside and dictated to + the bank's correspondent in Papeete a brief note to the effect that the + Marine National had that day issued to Captain Michael J. Murphy a letter + of credit in the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars; that it understood + Captain Murphy was proceeding to Papeete on some matter of business and + took this occasion to commend him to their kindly offices. + </p> + <p> + “Stick that in an envelope—address envelope, seal it, and write + outside: 'Kindness purser S.S. <i>Moana.</i>' The mail to Papeete is + closed, but I'll see that the <i>Moana's</i> purser delivers it to the + bank,” Cappy ordered. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + Ten minutes later Cappy dashed up to the entrance of Greenwich Street Pier + and found Matt Peasley waiting for him, with Captain Murphy. Miss Keenan + had already gone aboard the <i>Moana</i>, the huge funnel of which, as + Cappy noted with a thrill, was still sticking up over the roof of the + dock. He crooked his finger and Michael J. Murphy leaped up on the running + board of his car. + </p> + <p> + “Mike,” said Cappy solemnly, “listen to me! Here's a letter of credit in + your name for twenty-five thousand dollars, and an advice to the bank in + Papeete from our bank here stating that the letter of credit has been + issued. Give this letter to the purser, together with a good-sized bill, + and ask him to deliver it to the Papeete bank when the <i>Moana</i> + arrives there. Here, also, is a letter of credit for Miss Keenan in the + sum of fifty thousand—and the bank in Papeete has no notice of it! + Remember that! It's important. Keep it to yourself. Miss Keenan has the + expense money for both of you; tell her to split the roll with you. Tell + her, also, that her name from now until she gets back is Matilda Keenan, + and to sign her drafts that way. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the signature cards. You sign yours and have her sign hers; then + you give both to Captain Porter, the pilot, when he leaves the ship, and + ask him to deliver them to me. I, in turn, will deliver them to the bank. + Tell Miss Keenan she is absolutely under your orders; that she's to forget + she ever heard of the lumber and shipping business. Both of you are to + keep away from a man by the name of J. Augustus Redell. He's aboard and + he's our enemy, captain. He's going to bid forty thousand dollars on the + German steamer <i>Valkyrie</i>; so you bid forty thousand and five dollars—and + take her away from him. At the very last minute have Miss Keenan put in a + bid for thirty thousand—in case—you know, Mike—we might + catch it going and coming. It might pay to have you fall down on your bid—you + know, Mike! She's the dark horse—the reserve capital. Papeete—one-horse + town, Mike. Everybody knows the other fellow's business—principal + competitor for the steamer is an Australian steamship company. Considering + condition world politics today, and no French bidders, naturally Frenchmen + will pull for the Britisher. Expect bank will leak and tell 'em you only + arrived with twenty-five thousand—you know, Mike! Can't be too + careful. Trust nobody—and remember this man Redell is the smartest + young man in the world and the trickiest scoundrel under heaven. Don't + hold him cheap. He's a holy terror! He'd pinch the gold out of your wisdom + teeth while you'd be laughing at him.” + </p> + <p> + “How high am I to go—if it becomes necessary to bid more than—” + </p> + <p> + “Shoot the piece!” Cappy ordered. It is to be regretted that the + Bilgewater Club, cut off from the house rules in a private dining room, + had a habit of shooting craps occasionally after luncheon, and Cappy Ricks + had picked up the patois of the game. “Seventy-five thousand is the limit; + but satisfy yourself she's worth the limit before you go to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And Redell is going to bid forty thousand, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “That's his limit. He told me so in confidence when he felt certain I + couldn't possibly be a competitor—told it to me, and kidded me for a + dead one at twenty minutes of one, when he knew I couldn't possibly have + time to act. But he forgot the mail—it was delayed—” + </p> + <p> + “I get you, sir. There's more to this job than merely acquiring the ship,” + retorted the astute Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “There's a million dollars' worth of satisfaction in it for me if I can + beat Gus Redell to that steamer. He says I've lost my punch.” + </p> + <p> + But Captain Murphy was off down the dock, suit case in hand, while Cappy + dismissed his borrowed car and climbed into the office car with Matt + Peasley. Five minutes they waited at the head of the dock—and then + four huge motor trucks, laden with mail, lumbered through the dock gate. + Cappy beamed into Captain Matt Peasley's face. + </p> + <p> + “I guess this is a rotten day's work for the president emeritus, eh?” he + chuckled. “President emeritus! By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, if I waited + for you and Skinner to get wise to all the good things that are lying + round loose, the Blue Star Navigation Company would be in the hands of a + receiver within the year. Matt, if you expect to manage the Blue Star + you'll have to wake up. You're slow, boy—s-l-o-w-w! For heaven's + sake, don't force me back into the harness! You know I've been wanting to + retire for years.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, our messengers are aboard, so let's get out of here. I'm hungry; I + haven't had any lunch,” Matt replied. + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it,” Cappy answered cheerfully, “I believe I could eat a + little something myself. However, I still have one small duty to perform, + Matthew. I've got to send a wireless.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “That scoundrel Redell, of course. Think I'm going to swat him and leave + him in ignorance of the fact?” + </p> + <p> + Immediately upon arrival at the Commercial Club, Cappy sent the following + message: + </p> + <p> + “J. Augustus Redell, + </p> + <p> + “Aboard S. S. <i>Moana</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Augustus, my dear young friend, I have known men who grew rich by keeping + their mouths closed! + </p> + <h3> + “CAPPY.” + </h3> + <p> + “There!” said Cappy, as he dispatched this simple declarative sentence. + “I'll wager one small five-cent bag of smoking tobacco our friend Gus + Redell will not sleep to-night. He'll just lie awake wondering what in Sam + Hill I meant by that.” + </p> + <p> + When he got back to his office he found an aerogram, which read as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Alden P. Ricks + </p> + <p> + “258 California Street + </p> + <p> + “San Francisco + </p> + <p> + “Everything lovely. After getting aboard decided to bluff; went to Redell, + told him I was your representative. He went green clear back of the ears; + said he had observed delay in sailing. Told him he'd better quit and go + ashore with pilot; that I had bank roll choke hippopotamus. Your wireless + handed him that moment! Would hesitate repeat his language. Have agreed + pay him for his first-class ticket. All first-class cabins sold out; had + to have it for Matilda. Steerage an awful place for a skipper, but will + have to make the best of it. + </p> + <h3> + “MUHPHY.” + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Skinner, alarmed at the shrill screams emanating from Cappy Ricks' + office, rushed in and found the president emeritus rolling round in his + swivel chair, beating the air and stamping on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Mr. Ricks!” Skinner cried. “What's the matter? Are you + hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt!” Cappy shrilled. “Hurt? Well, I should say so! Skinner, my boy, if + you ever lose your punch you'll know just how much I'm suffering. As Live + Wire Luiz would say: 'I die weeth dee-light!'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Three months later Cappy Ricks sat alone in his office, his feet on his + desk, his old head bowed on his breast. Apparently he was having a gentle + snooze. Suddenly he sat up with the suddenness of a jack-in-the-box and + stepped to the door leading to Mr. Skinner's office. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he said, “do you remember that stinking Humboldt + spruce I sawed off on Live Wire Luiz one day when you were out to lunch?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They claimed a rebate of six dollars a thousand on it,” he declared; “and + we declined to allow the claim. Well, I've decided to allow it, Skinner. + Tell Hankins to draw a check for the rebate in full and bring it in to me. + Send in a stenographer.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy clawed his whiskers as the stenographer took her seat at his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Ahem! Hum! Harumph-h-h!” he began. “Take letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. J. Augustus Redell + </p> + <p> + “President West Coast Trading Co. + </p> + <p> + “Merchants' Exchange Building, City. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gus: Having waited for several weeks in the hope of meeting you + at the Bilgewater Club, to which, due to some mysterious reason, you + appear to have been excessively disloyal of late, I despair of the delight + of a personal interview and am accordingly writing you. + </p> + <p> + “You will recall that jag of odoriferous spruce your excitable partner was + chump enough to buy from the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company. On the + receipt this morning of a communication from my exceedingly capable + representative in Papeete I came to the conclusion that I could afford to + allow the rebate claimed by the excessively sour-balled Senor Almeida, and + accordingly I am inclosing herewith, to the order of your company, the + Ricks Lumber & Logging Company's check for $536.12. + </p> + <p> + “I also beg to tender you my assurance that if I have seemed in the past + to cherish an unchristian resentment of that little deal in grape stakes, + the memory of the outrage no longer rankles in my bosom. For you, my dear + young friend, I entertain the kindliest, the most paternal of feelings. I + have not only forgiven, but I have also forgotten; for my honor is clear + again and I figure I can pretty blamed well afford myself the luxury. + </p> + <p> + “Regarding that steamer <i>Valkyrie</i>, please be advised that the next + steamer to Australia, via Papeete and Raratonga, will carry a Blue Star + flag and my instructions to our representative to have it tacked to the + main truck of the <i>Valkyrie</i> as she dies submerged in the harbor. + Since I assume you will be interested in learning the details of our + acquisition of the steamer in question, and since, further, I cannot see + that I have anything to lose by withholding this interesting information, + please be advised that we bought her in for twenty-two thousand five + hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + “I fear you will be inclined to doubt this and accuse me of romancing for + the purpose of dropping more salt in a wound still fresh and bleeding; but + I assure you such a suspicion would be a grave injustice to an old man + whose portion from you should be pity, not opprobrium. + </p> + <p> + “To begin, it was very easy—after we had you out of the way. Like a + sensible man, you knew you were licked and threw up the sponge to save + yourself unnecessary punishment. It has been my experience that only a + very wise man has sense enough to do that; consequently, despite your + youth and impetuosity, I seem to see the glimmer of a very brilliant + commercial future for the West Coast Trading Company. + </p> + <p> + “However, to the story: When Mike Murphy got down to Papeete he found a + couple of broken-down junk dealers hanging round—the kind of fellows + who would have been glad to bid in the vessel at a couple of thousand + dollars for the privilege of breaking her up for junk and gutting her of + her cargo. A little reflection convinced Captain Murphy that he could + eliminate these small fry and centre his attention on the Australian + steamship company; and he was aided in arriving at this conclusion by your + Mr. Jinks, whom he found glooming at the dock on the arrival of the <i>Moana</i> + minus your handsome self. By the way, Mr. Jinks' action in aiding and + abetting Murphy, after discovering that his own company was out of the + running, was so sportsmanlike that, if you will kindly advise me of the + expense to which you were put in sending him to Papeete, we will gladly + send you our check to cover. + </p> + <p> + “It took the capable Murphy about an hour and a half to get the lay of the + land—and then he started to play his little game. In the rather + restricted society of Papeete Murphy played the fool. Every little while + he would apparently acquire a small jag and get very confidential. He told + everybody his business—in confidence—and everybody in Papeete + knew just how much he was going to bid on the wreck. Finally, the day + before the bids were to be opened—Murphy was waiting till the last + minute before filing his—the captain of the port got a wireless from + some adventurer down in Noumea, asking him to withhold the opening of the + bids till he could get up to Papeete and make a bid. Murphy had already + fooled away three weeks in Papeete and if the captain of the port + hearkened to the request from the man from Noumea it would mean a wait of + another three weeks. Consequently he awaited the next move with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Augustus, the captain of the port had the temerity to delay the + opening of the bids, and Murphy noticed that his competitor hired an + attorney and made a bitter and formal protest against the delay. However, + it looked to Murphy like they had made just a little bit too much noise—so + he hired an attorney and made a lot of noise himself. The captain of the + port overruled both protests, however; and about that time Murphy decided + to put over a dirty Irish trick. He announced he could see very clearly + there was a move on to double-cross the legitimate bidders and that he + wasn't going to hang round any longer. The <i>Timaru</i> was due the next + day, so he and Jinks engaged passage to San Francisco on her; and, just + before he left, Murphy went up to the bank and drew eighteen thousand + dollars on his letter of credit. + </p> + <p> + “He got a certificate of deposit in his own name, and that same afternoon + his attorney filed a sealed bid with the captain of the port. + </p> + <p> + “Now I had suspected there might be a leak from that French bank in favor + of the Australian; so I had taken care to have it advised by the Marine + National here that the latter bank had issued a letter of credit for + twenty-five thousand dollars to Captain Murphy. Therefore, the Papeete + bank very naturally concluded that twenty-five thousand dollars was all + the money Murphy had with him! And when he drew eighteen thousand dollars + on it they thought they knew the exact amount of his bid; they thought, + also, he had made a bid, in view of the fact that his attorney filed one + the same afternoon. At any rate, the news reached the Australian and he + withdrew his bid and substituted another. Since he was the possessor of + straight inside information as to the amount of his single competitor's + bid, he saw no reason why he should waste money; so he bid four thousand + pounds, or approximately nineteen thousand five hundred dollars. They say + he felt pretty sore when the bids were opened and the <i>Valkyrie</i> went + to Miss Matilda Keenan for twenty-two thousand five hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Keenan, by the way, is Skinner's stenographer. Murphy was only the + decoy. She carried the real bank roll and nobody suspected her; in fact, + Murphy was so certain of his prey he didn't even bid! He tells me the <i>Valkyrie</i> + is really a gift, and that, at the widest possible estimate of salvage + cost, the Blue Star Navigation Company has purchased, for two hundred + thousand dollars, a four-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar ship—thanks + to you! + </p> + <p> + “With kindest regards, and again assuring you of the pleasure I have + always taken in our friendship—a friendship which, I trust, nothing + will ever disrupt—I am + </p> + <p> + “Cordially and sincerely—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy paused and gazed at the stenographer appraisingly. + </p> + <p> + “Read that over again, my dear young lady,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + The girl complied and Cappy nodded his satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “You and Mr. Skinner get along all right?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very glad to hear that. You've been substituting for Miss Keenan, + haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can have the job for keeps if you want it. You suit me. Take + letter: 'Miss M. Keenan—' I called her Matilda, but her name's Mary; + so let it go at that. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Keenan: Captain Murphy arrived on the <i>Timaru</i>, with + the information that he had taken a chance and left our affairs in the + laps of the gods and the capable hands of his understudy. It has been + pretty tough sledding waiting for the next Australian steamer, but, thank + God! she made port yesterday and your report of the success of your + mission is before me. I thank you. Yen're a good girl, and I am very happy + to learn of your engagement to Captain Murphy. He is a splendid fellow and + I am sending him back to Papeete in command of our <i>Amelia Ricks</i>, + which has been fitted up as a wrecker, to raise the <i>Valkyrie</i>. You + had better wait in Papeete and marry him there, as I am opposed to long + engagements among my employees; and Michael will do better and faster work + if he settles all his personal worries before tackling those of the Blue + Star Navigation Company. + </p> + <p> + “On his return with the <i>Valkyrie</i> I shall make him port captain of + the Blue Star Fleet, which job will keep him home nights. And since, by + his ingenuity, he succeeded in purchasing for twenty-two thousand five + hundred dollars a piece of property for which I was prepared to pay as + high as seventy-five thousand dollars, for your wedding present I shall + allot you and Captain Murphy a ten-thousand-dollar piece of the <i>Valkyrie</i>. + It should earn you thirty per cent and make you independent in your old + age. + </p> + <p> + “Very sincerely—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks ceased dictating and clawed his whiskers reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he murmured irrelevantly; “I guess that's considerable of a + knock-out from an old fogy who's lost his punch!” + </p> + <p> + Then, to the stenographer: + </p> + <p> + “That will be all, my dear. As you pass through the general office tell + those fellows out there that I've gone into executive session with myself + and am not to be disturbed unless it's something very important. I've got + to decide which one of our skippers to promote into the <i>Valkyrie</i> + when we get her up and I must think up a new name for her. I think I'll + call her the J. H. Skinner. Skinner's a little slow on his feet, but he + means well and he's old enough to have a ship named after him.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + The practical theft from the West Coast Trading Company of the German + steamer <i>Valkyrie</i>, had, to Cappy's mind, atoned for the loss and + humiliation he had suffered in that grape stake deal. His honor was clean + again and for weeks he taunted Redell with the latter's inefficiency, + insufficiency and general business debility, until, having extracted the + last shred of triumph from the affair, a vague sympathy for Redell + commenced to surge up in Cappy's kindly heart and he commenced casting + about for an opportunity to do the former a favor. + </p> + <p> + Redell had enjoyed his beating, for he was, indeed, a rare sport. However, + he would have to retaliate. The feud must go on. Unless he could mix a + modicum of fun with his profits, J. Augustus would not have regarded the + fight worth while, so accordingly he kept his eyes and his ears open for a + handy weapon with which to jab Cappy through that same old rift in his + armor—his passion for a large profit through an adroit and ingenious + deal in a commodity where even a very modest profit was not discernible to + ordinary mortals. + </p> + <p> + Finally Redell found the opportunity he sought. He was so proud of his + formula that he could not forbear remarking casually to Live Wire Luiz one + bright day that, granted good health and the approval of Providence for + one week, he would knock Cappy Ricks for a goal. And he narrated his + scheme. + </p> + <p> + “Friend of my heart!” the little Peruvian cried excitedly, and held out + his arms to Redell, inviting a fraternal embrace. “I love you! Damn eet! I + say eet! You are one wezard weeth the money-making schemes!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Redell cautiously compromised on a hearty handshake; to avoid a kiss + he was careful to keep the table between himself and Live Wire Luiz. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we empty the corporate sock and climb aboard for every cent we can + beg, borrow or steal?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I bet you!” Live Wire Luiz cried; for, though a featherweight + physically, he was possessed of the courage of an Alexander. + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell put on his hat, took from a pigeonhole in his desk the + last trial balance of the West Coast Trading Company's books and departed + for a conference with his banker. Half an hour later he returned, and the + expectant Luiz promptly noted a cloud on Mr. Redell's sunny countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I can't arrange for a loan,” he reported disgustedly. “The limit, in view + of our present obligations, has been reached.” + </p> + <p> + “On the margin of ten cents,” suggested Live Wire Luiz, “take a chance, <i>amigo</i>. + Thees is not speculation. It ees what you call the ceench weeth the copper + reevets.” + </p> + <p> + “I figure it that way; nevertheless, copper-riveted cinches sometimes + aren't properly cinched and Fortune backs out of the packsaddle. I dare + not take a long chance on this, Luiz. If something went wrong we'd be + sadly embarrassed. We dare not take a chance up to the limit of what money + we have on hand, because we need those funds for other things.” + </p> + <p> + Live Wire Luiz swore mournfully in Spanish. Redell nodded and retired to + his own office, where for an hour he sat with his head in his hands, + searching his agile brain for a bright idea that would lead him out of his + dilemma. Suddenly he leaped to his feet, tossed his hat to the ceiling and + caught it again as it came down. + </p> + <p> + “Cappy Ricks is my meat,” he declared aloud. “Besides, I owe Cappy one for + making a monkey out of me on that last deal. He hoisted me on my own + petard. Now I'll hoist him, and incidentally annex a profit for the West + Coast Trading Company.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed out into California Street and for the major portion of the day + was very busy among various shipping offices. When he returned, late in + the afternoon, to the offices of the West Coast Trading Company, his alert + young face wore a pleased and confident smile. Live Wire Luiz noted this + and took heart of hope. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks was, for the thousandth time since his voluntary retirement + from active business some ten years previous, overwhelmed with his ancient + responsibilities. Mr. Skinner had, under the insistent prodding of his + wife, consented grudgingly to a vacation and had gone up into the Sierras + to loaf and fish. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had Skinner departed when one of the Blue Star steamers ran + ashore on the Southern California coast, and Captain Matt Peasley left + immediately for the scene of the disaster to superintend the work of + floating the stranded vessel. This left Cappy riding herd on the destinies + of the Blue Star ships, with Mr. Hankins, Skinner's understudy, looking + after the lumber. + </p> + <p> + Prior to boarding the train, Matt Peasley had ventured the suggestion that + Mr. Skinner be ordered by wire to return to town at once; but this veiled + hint that the Blue Star ships could not be managed by the man who had + built up the Blue Star Navigation Company had been received very coldly by + the president emeritus of the Ricks interests. + </p> + <p> + “Young feller,” Cappy informed his son-in-law testily, “I'll have you know + I was managing the Blue Star Navigation Company quite some years before + you quit wearing pinafores; so I guess, while you and Skinner are away + from the office, we can manage to stagger along after a fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't like to have you worried with business after you've retired—” + </p> + <p> + “Retired!” Cappy hooted. “Swell chance I've got to retire! I'll die in the + harness whether I want to or not. Tut, tut, my boy! Don't be afraid to put + me in as a pinch hitter for this organization. The worst I can do is to + single—and I might clout a home run.” + </p> + <p> + “But Skinner has been away two weeks—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! It would be a bad thing to obsess Skinner with the notion that we + can't get along without him. Then he never would take a rest; and I don't + want any martyrs or neurasthenics round my office. You got anything on the + fire that's liable to burn or boil over, before you get back?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to worry about, Cappy,” Matt answered. “Our five-masted schooner + <i>Mindoro</i> is the only vessel requiring immediate attention. She + arrived at Sydney yesterday with lumber from Gray's Harbor, and as yet I + haven't been able to get a satisfactory return cargo for her.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you been holding out for?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get a cargo for delivery in San Francisco if possible. The + vessel will be ready to go on dry dock by the time she gets back here; and + besides, I'm planning to put a semi-Diesel-type engine in her.” + </p> + <p> + '“Not by a jugful! She wasn't built with a shaft log, and I won't have you + weakening my <i>Mindoro</i> by cutting away her deadwood—” + </p> + <p> + “Tish! Tush! You're a back number, Cappy. They don't cut through the + deadwood any more. They run the shaft out over her quarter and hang it on + struts.” + </p> + <p> + “She'll carry a helm—” + </p> + <p> + “She'll not; but if she does, let her. It'll give the helmsman something + to do.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy subsided, fearful that if he persisted he might be given new + evidence of the fact that times had changed a trifle, here and there, + since he had—ostensibly—gone on the retired list. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll take care of the <i>Mindoro</i>,” he assured his son-in-law. + “Early in life I adopted the woodpecker as my patron saint. Ever since, + whenever I want anything I keep pecking away, and pretty soon I bust + through somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + The following morning, bursting with a sense of responsibility, Cappy came + bustling down to the office and got on the job at eight-thirty. After + looking through the mail he called up all the freight brokers in town and + urged them to make a special effort to line up a San Francisco cargo for + the <i>Mindoro</i>; then he summoned Mr. Skinner's stenographer and was + busy dictating when Mr. J. Augustus Redell was announced by a youth from + the general office. Cappy went to the door to welcome his beloved young + friend and business enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Gus, my dear boy,” he chirped, “and rest your face and hands.” + He turned to the stenographer. “That will be all, my dear, for the + present. I can't dictate business secrets in the presence of this—ahem—harumph-h-h!—er—” + </p> + <p> + His desk telephone rang. Cappy took down the receiver and grunted. + </p> + <p> + “J. O. Heyfuss & Co. are calling you, Mr. Ricks,” his private exchange + operator announced. + </p> + <p> + Cappy smiled and nodded. J. O. Heyfuss & Co. were ship, freight and + marine insurance brokers. + </p> + <p> + “Something doing for my <i>Mindoro</i>,” he soliloquized aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ricks?” a voice came over the wire. + </p> + <p> + “Hello there!” Cappy replied at the top of his voice. For some reason he + always shouted when telephoning. “Ricks on the job! Whatja got for my <i>Mindoro</i>, + Heyfuss?... Zinc ore? Never carried any before. Don't know what it looks + like.... Yes; that freight rate is acceptable. We should have more, but + God forbid that we should be considered human hogs... Yes.... Sure it's + for discharge in San Francisco? ... All right. Close for it.... + Good-bye!... Hey there, Heyfuss! Don't close in a hurry. See if you can't + get the charterers to pay the towage over to her loading port. If they + won't pay all, strike 'em for half.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up without saying good-bye. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's out of the way,” he declared with satisfaction. “Just closed + for a cargo of zinc ore from Australia to San Francisco ex our schooner <i>Mindoro</i>. + Matt Peasley's been hunting wild-eyed for a cargo for her—scouring + the market, Gus—and nothing doing! And here the old master comes + along and digs up a cargo while you'd be saying Jack Robinson. By the Holy + Pink-Toed Prophet, if you can show me how the rising generation is going + to get by—” + </p> + <p> + He paused suddenly, leaned forward, and pointed an accusing finger at his + visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Gus,” he charged, “you're up to something. I can see it in your eyes. You + look guilty.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Redell hitched his chair close to Cappy and with his index finger + tapped the old gentleman three times on the right knee-three impressive + taps. + </p> + <p> + “Alden P. Ricks,” he began with equal impressiveness, “I have a scheme—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy chuckled and slapped his thin old thigh. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it! By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet! Gus, if you ever come into my + office and fail to unload a scheme on me I'll think you aren't enjoying + your usual robust health. What are you going to start now? A skunk farm + for cornering the market on Russian sable?” + </p> + <p> + “Cut out the hilarity. This is serious business, Cappy. I can show you + where you and I can waltz into the Chicago Pit, make a killing on December + wheat, and escape with a sizable wad before our identity is discovered.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy, caught off his guard, blinked at the enormity of the prospect; but, + remembering his dignity as a business man, he shook his head sadly and + replied: + </p> + <p> + “Wheat! Wheat, eh? A lumber and shipping man monkeying with wheat? Not for + little old Alden P. Ricks! No, sir! When I go speculating I stick to my + specialties—lumber and ships. Did you ever hear of a gambler, + winning a fortune at faro, who didn't drop his winnings on the ponies?” + </p> + <p> + “But this is a beautiful layout.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything about wheat and I'm too old to learn. Besides, I + don't trust you, Gus. You're an infernal scoundrel; and experience has + taught me that any time I take your tip and go in on a deal I have to step + lively to keep from being walked on.” + </p> + <p> + “But this time I'm free from guile. I won't stab you, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “No use! The last boat just left, Augustus.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration with caption: He always shouted when telephoning.} + </p> + <p> + Mr. Redell, however, was made of rather stern stuff. He was a young man + who never took “No” for an answer. Persistence was his most striking + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + “Now listen,” he implored. “Let the dead past bury itself. I give you my + word of honor, Cappy, that this deal is on the level. Just let me put all + my cards on the table while you take a look; then, if you don't want to + come in, all I ask is your word of honor that you'll stay out while I + round up a partner with red blood in his veins.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy pricked up his ears at that. He saw that Redell was serious; he knew + that once the latter passed his word of honor he never broke it. Still, + Cappy did not wish to appear precipitate in his surrender; so he said + weakly: + </p> + <p> + “I am against speculation.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you're against foolish speculation,” Redell corrected him. “I + take it, however, that you have no objection to playing a sure thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Gappy admitted, “in that event I might be persuaded. Nevertheless, + I'm afraid of you. There's a fly in the ointment, even if I cannot see it. + You owe me a poke, and you'll never rest until you've squared the account + between us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Redell held up his hands in abject distress. + </p> + <p> + “Cappy,” he pleaded, “don't say that. You wrong me cruelly. It is in my + power to stand idly by and let you assimilate a poke right now; but, just + to show you I haven't any hard feelings, I'll do something nice for you + instead.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—nice?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll save you money—not only today but for years to come; and I'll + save your self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoot!” + </p> + <p> + “Call up J. O. Heyfuss & Co. and tell them to take their cargo of zinc + ore in bulk for your schooner <i>Mindoro</i> and go to the devil with it!” + </p> + <p> + “But, good gracious, boy, I have to get something for her homeward trip!” + </p> + <p> + “In this case nothing is better than something. Do you know anything about + zinc ore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; as much as an Eskimo knows about the doctrine of + transubstantiation.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. Well, I'll enlighten you. Zinc ore is blamed near as heavy + as lead, and it's as fine as cement. Load it in a ship in bulk and, what + with the pitching and rolling of a vessel on a long voyage, she opens up + every seam and crack in her interior; then this powdered ore sifts into + the skin of the ship and down into her bilge, and you'll never be able to + get it out without tearing the ship apart. Why, after a vessel has + freighted a cargo of zinc ore there may be as much as fifty tons left in + her after she's supposed to be discharged; and, of course, thereafter + she'll carry that much less cargo than she did before. Besides, the + consignees are liable to send you a bill for the shortage; you can gamble + your head they'll deduct it from the freight bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Holy sailor!” Cappy was appalled. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” Redell continued, “I'm surprised at your ignorance, Cappy!” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm amazed at your intelligence! Where did you get all this zinc-ore + dope?” Cappy challenged. “How do you know it's true?” + </p> + <p> + “I got it from Captain Matt Peasley. I heard him give it to J. O. Heyfuss + on the floor of the Merchants' Exchange two weeks ago, when Heyfuss tried + to sneak up on his blind side and hang that cargo of zinc ore on him. I + guess they weren't importing much zinc ore when you were active in + business, Cappy, or you'd have known all about it. You see the plot, don't + you? As soon as Heyfuss learned that Matt Peasley and Skinner had gone + away, leaving a defenseless old man on the job, he organized himself to + spear you.” + </p> + <p> + “The shameless son of a sea cook! By gravy, Gus, you're my friend!” + </p> + <p> + “Need any more proof?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a speck.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll give you some. Call up Heyfuss and declare that ore cargo off; + after you've done that I'll tell you where you can get something better. + Moreover, you can close the deal yourself and save the brokerage.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks called up J. O. Heyfuss and in a few terse sentences told that + individual where to head in. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then—” he began, facing round on Redell once more. + </p> + <p> + Again Redell's index finger tapped Cappy's knee. Dramatically he + pronounced a single word: + </p> + <p> + “Wheat!” + </p> + <p> + “Wheat?” + </p> + <p> + “Wheat!” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of wheat?” In his amazement Cappy was rather helpless. + </p> + <p> + “Number One white Australian wheat.” + </p> + <p> + “You jibbering jackdaw! Wheat? Don't you know blamed well that wheat is + one of the commodities Australia never exports to these United States? + Why? Because we don't need her doggoned wheat! We grow all the wheat we + need and a lot more we don't need; we export that, and it's just as fine + wheat as you'll find anywhere. Moreover, any time our crop is a failure, + our next-door neighbor, Canada, is Johnny-on-the-spot, ready to make + prompt delivery. So what in thunder are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + For answer J. Augustus Redell drew from his pocket that morning's paper + and pointed to the headline of a front-page story. Cappy adjusted his + spectacles and read: Bakers Announce Six-Cent Loaf! + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m!” said Cappy. + </p> + <p> + “You bet! And it's a smaller loaf, by the way. Doesn't that argue that + there is something doing in wheat, when the price of bread goes to six + cents for a half portion?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there might be something in that, Gus. Crack along and tell me some + more.” + </p> + <p> + “Until the identity of the real culprits is fixed, Cappy, we must blame + the war in Europe for the six-cent loaf; likewise for the fifteen-dollar + shoe that formerly cost our wives six or seven; for the eleven pounds of + sugar for a dollar, when twenty to twenty-two pounds was the standard in + the good old days. Europe is too busy fighting to pay much attention to + farming; the wheat farmers of Canada are somewhere in France instead of + being at home 'tending to business; and it has been up to Uncle Sam and + the Argentine Republic to feed the world, you might say. Naturally + speculators have seized upon this condition to shoot the price of wheat to + the skies, and in desperation the millers have been casting about to buy + cheaper wheat. Investigation discloses the fact that Australia has an + enormous quantity of wheat on hand; some of it is the surplus of the 1915 + crop. Of course she has exported all she could to England; but, at that, + she has been handicapped.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when a ship sails from Liverpool with goods for Australia, it is + a rare case when that same ship promptly loads with Australian goods and + puts back to Liverpool. She takes a cargo of coal, say, from Newcastle up + to Manila; a general cargo from Manila to Seattle or San Francisco; thence + to a West Coast port with a general cargo; thence to New York with + nitrate; thence to Europe with foodstuffs or munitions. Australia hasn't + had the tonnage to export her wheat and it's been piling up on her. Now + they've simply got to sell something to get some ready money.” + </p> + <p> + “This is perfectly re-markable!” + </p> + <p> + Redell took a document from his pocket and gravely handed it to Cappy, who + examined it and discovered the same to be a charter party, consummated the + day before between the West Coast Trading Company, owners of the + barkentine <i>Mazeppa</i>, and Messrs. Ford & Carter, a well known + export and import firm whose principal business was done in grain. Cappy + read the charter party carefully and even verified the signatures, with + which he was familiar. The vessel was to carry a cargo of wheat from + Melbourne to San Francisco at a freight rate that fairly shrieked the word + “Dividend.” + </p> + <p> + “Re-markable!” Cappy declared. “Preposterous!” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing is believing. Call up Ford & Carter, and they'll jump over + themselves to give you a cargo of wheat for your <i>Mindoro</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Im-possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm telling you. Why, it stands to reason, Cappy! Canada and the + United States are so much nearer Europe than is Australia that it has been + cheaper to use our wheat, and the result is we've been cleaned out; and + the newspapers are filled with dismal stories of the sufferings of the + poor due to the increased price of bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it, Gus, there <i>has</i> been a lot of that stuff in + the papers lately. But, of course, when a fellow's stomach is full and he + isn't in danger of being attached for debt, he never thinks of the less + fortunate brother. Yes, Gus, I dare say the demand for our wheat now + exceeds the visible supply.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it any wonder, then, that this condition of affairs should come to the + attention of the Australian exporters? Just because Australian wheat has + never been shipped into the United States is no reason why it shouldn't be + shipped—particularly when the price of flour goes up daily. Why, we + pay two and a half dollars for the fifty-pound sack of flour that formerly + cost us a dollar and a quarter! Eggs are up to seventy cents a dozen—by + jingo, Cappy, what's going to become of us?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows!” Cappy answered dismally. + </p> + <p> + Redell had him hypnotized. Already Cappy could see the gates of the + poorhouse opening to receive them all. Redell's voice brought him back to + a realization of his peril. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find, Cappy Ricks, that for months to come every sailing vessel + that carries lumber to Australia from the Pacific Coast will come back + with a cargo of wheat while these war prices are maintained.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Jumping Jehoshaphat! How'd you get next to all this, Gus?” + </p> + <p> + “The early bird gets the worm, and success comes to the man who creates + his own opportunities. I thought it all up out of my own head, Cappy, and + then tried it out on Ford & Carter. It knocked 'em cold for a minute; + but that was only because the proposition was so unusual. When I explained + the situation to them, however, and gave them time to digest it, both + offered to take me out to luncheon. You can see for yourself they've + chartered our Mazeppa at a fancy freight rate.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy licked his lips. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Mindoro</i> is sound, tight and seaworthy,” he murmured. “She + could carry wheat.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on in, Cappy. The water's fine!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it! Gus, you're a mighty good fellow, if I do say it that + shouldn't. I have five windjammers en route to Australia this minute, and, + by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, if I can get wheat charters for all of them + on the return trip I'll accept, if it costs me money. Gus, something has + got to be done about this high cost of living or we'll all go to hell + together. There comes a time in a man's life when he must put aside the + sordid question of 'How much is there in it for me?' and ask himself: 'How + much can I put in it for the other fellow?' Gus, it's our Christian duty + to furnish tonnage to import this wheat. We should, as patriotic citizens, + make it our business to boom Australian wheat in the United States and + give these doggoned pirates that gamble in the foodstuffs of the country a + run for their money. Food prices should be regulated by this Government. + The Chicago Pit should be abolished by legislative enactment—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they won't do it this year, Cappy,” Redell interrupted dryly. + “Still, it occurred to me that I saw an opening where two high-minded + philanthropists—to wit, Alden P. Ricks and J. Augustus Redell—might + strike a blow for freedom and at the same time give these wheat + speculators a kick where it will do them the most good. When one cannot + annihilate his enemy the next best thing is to take some money away from + him; and you and I, Cappy Ricks, can take a young fortune away from these + fellows, while at the same time depressing the price of wheat and doing + our fellow countrymen a favor. Are you prepared to volunteer under my + banner? If so, hold up your right hand.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy held up his right hand. + </p> + <p> + “Out with it, Gus,” he ordered; “out with it! This is most interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You're interested now, are you? Well, bearing in mind the fact that + your specialty is lumber and ships, I will give you an opportunity to + withdraw before it is too late. Besides, it occurs to me that I have + already done enough for you today.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be greedy, Gus. Remember there is an exception to every rule. + Besides, I'm getting old and—er—ahem!—hell's bells, boy, + I've got to have my fling every once in a while. Come now, Gus! Out with + it! I believe your proposition embodied the coupling of both our names in + the betting, did it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It did, Cappy. Still, come to think of it, I really ought not to come in + here and tempt you into speculating—” + </p> + <p> + “How much money do you want?” Cappy shrilled impatiently. “Cut out this + infernal drivel and get down to business. Unfold your proposition; and if + it looks to me like a winner I'll take a flyer with you if it's the last + act of my sinful life.” + </p> + <p> + “On your own head be it, Cappy. Here goes! However, before laying my plan + before you, perfect frankness compels me to state that my visit to you was + not born of an overweening desire to do you a kindness or make money for + you. Philanthropy is not my long suit—in business hours; and my + interest in you today is purely a selfish one.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on; go on, boy! Am I a child in arms?” + </p> + <p> + “I have made a ball, Cappy,” Redell continued, “and I want you to fire it. + I have a splendid prescription to make a clean-up in December wheat—” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your prescription.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, my prescription lacks one small ingredient to make it a + standard household remedy. You can supply that ingredient—to wit, + cash of the present standard of weight and fineness. Every spare dollar + that Live Wire Luiz and I can get our hands on is working overtime in the + legitimate business of the West Coast Trading Company; every loose asset + with a hockable value has been hocked, and we dare not strain our credit + with our banker by borrowing money with which to speculate. If I apply for + a sizable loan, without putting up collateral, he'll ask me what I want to + do with the money—and if I answer truthfully he'll throw Luiz and me + and our account out of his bank. And I never was a very successful liar. + Therefore, in consideration of the valuable information I can furnish, I + suggest that you carry me for a quarter of a million bushels of December + wheat.” + </p> + <p> + “How much will that cost me?” Cappy queried warily. + </p> + <p> + “We'll operate on margin. I think a margin of ten cents a bushel will do + the trick; of course, if wheat should go up a point you'll be asked to + come through with more money. However, I have a sneaking notion that a + well-known heavyweight like you can place his order with any of the local + brokers without having to put up a single cent; at the most they might ask + you for five thousand or ten thousand dollars. But they know you're good + for any engagement you may make; they'd be tickled to death to have your + promissory note. I suggest that you get in touch with a sound brokerage + house in this city—one that is a member of the New York Exchange and + the Chicago Board of Trade—and sell, for my account, two hundred and + fifty thousand bushels of December wheat at the market.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll I do for myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Go as far as you like. You know your own limitations. I'm desirous of + selling a quarter of a million bushels at the market; and, as I am + furnishing the plans and specifications for this raid, I suggest that you + sell at least a quarter of a million yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny business!” Cappy murmured. “Selling a quarter of a million bushels + of wheat you do not own and never will! Hum-m-m! Ahem! Harumph-h-h! Then + what?” + </p> + <p> + He bent his head and gazed very severely at Mr. Redell over the rims of + his spectacles. For reply Mr. Redell took from his pocket thirteen sheaves + of paper and handed them to Cappy, who investigated and discovered them to + be thirteen forty-eight-hour options on thirteen sailing vessels bound to + Australian ports with lumber, and not as yet provided with a return cargo + to the United States. + </p> + <p> + “By to-morrow morning I shall have exercised those options and closed for + thirteen cargoes of wheat,” Redell explained. “You have five vessels bound + to Australia also. Give me an option on them for their return cargo and + that will make eighteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Then what?” + </p> + <p> + “I will charter all of the eighteen to Ford grain of it, in order to + protect themselves against a falling market.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. And the market is—” + </p> + <p> + “December wheat closed in the Chicago Pit yesterday at $1.89 1/2, and the + market has been very stiff for quite a while. The bulls are right on the + job.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not the advent of all this Australian wheat depress the market?” + Cappy shrilled excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Not unless the bears happen to find it out, Cappy,” Redell retorted + gently. “It is our job to bring the matter to their attention, for it so + happens that Alden P. Ricks and J. Augustus Redell are the only two people + in the United States who happen to know about it. Ford bulls will get + panicky; the bears will take heart of hope, and with Number One white + Australian wheat they'll beat the brains out of the market and in all + probability kick it down to $1.85, at which figure we promptly buy as much + wheat as we have previously sold. Thus we cover our shorts, and the + difference between $1.89 1/2 and $1.85, less brokerage and interest—if + any—will be, roughly speaking, four cents. Four cents on a quarter + of a million bushels is ten thousand dollars—not a great deal, + truly, in these days of swollen fortunes, but, nevertheless, a nice piece + of velvet—eh, Cappy, you sporty boy?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so much the money we make,” Cappy replied sagely. “It's the fun + we have making it, my boy; the joy of putting over a winner. The instant a + man begins to love money for money's sake he's a knave and a fool. Kill + him! But—er—ahem—as you say, my dear young friend, ten + thousand each is not to be—er—sneezed at.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're coming in on the deal?” + </p> + <p> + “I should tell a man!” + </p> + <p> + After the fashion of the West they shook hands on it and went to luncheon + at the Commercial Club. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII + </h2> + <p> + Directly luncheon was over and Cappy Ricks had returned to his office, J. + Augustus Redell moved into action. He called on Messrs. Ford & Carter, + talked the situation over with them, and showed them where they, having + the necessary tonnage in hand with which to guarantee delivery, could + bring a couple of million bushels of fine Number One white Australian + wheat to the Pacific Coast, cut the price a cent, and doubtless unload + every kernel of it at a fair profit. There was every probability that + wheat would go to two dollars. For his part in producing this profit Mr. + Redell desired a commission of five per cent on all sales of wheat + imported in the bottoms he had under option and which he stood ready to + turn over to Ford & Carter without profit, since the owners of the + vessels would pay him the customary broker's commission on the freight + money earned on the voyage. Ford & Carter said they would think the + matter over; so Mr. Redell tactfully withdrew, stating that he would call + up the following day for an answer. + </p> + <p> + He knew Ford & Carter would promptly dispatch a long cablegram to + their agent in Australia, instructing him to get a forty-eight-hour option + on the wheat, with a guaranty of delivery to the vessels as they arrived + from time to time. Meantime, Ford & Carter would quote every milling + company in the West, subject to prior acceptance and their ability to + deliver Number One Australian wheat at a price that would be of interest. + If the milling companies accepted this rather nebulous quotation and + telegraphed orders, and Ford & Carter's Australian agent could + purchase at a satisfactory price the wheat to fill these orders, then Ford + & Carter would make formal acceptance and purchase the wheat. If, on + the other hand, their agent in Australia failed to get the wheat, then + Ford & Carter had an “out” with the milling companies who desired to + buy the wheat from them, and the entire matter would be off, with Ford + & Carter merely out a couple of hundred dollars in telegraph bills. + That was the bet they had to make to put their fortune to the touch; and + right cheerfully did they make it. + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell gave them all the time he could. His forty-eight-hour + options on the vessels then en route to Australia had cost him nothing; + that was a courtesy which one shipowner always extends to another, free of + charge, unless the vessel happens to be on demurrage at the time the + option is given. When his options were within two hours of expiring he + called on Ford & Carter. + </p> + <p> + “We'll take 'em all,” Carter almost shouted at him. “They'll be arriving + with sufficient time elapsing between arrivals to guarantee us immunity + from any undue delay or embarrassment in loading them. We've bought the + wheat and sold it; now give us the tonnage to freight it, Redell, and + we'll all be happy, and a little richer than we were the day before + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Redell took up the telephone and called each shipowner, in turn, to inform + him that he would exercise his option on the latter's ship, and for the + owner to prepare charter parties and send them up to his office for + signature. + </p> + <p> + “I will have no difficulty in getting the owners to agree to an assignment + of these charters to you,” he advised Carter. “You and Ford are brothers + in good standing, I take it. However, if they insist on doing business + through me, in order that they may hold me responsible, I'll simply + recharter to you at the same rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Lovely!” cried Messrs. Ford & Carter in unison. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later J. Augustus Redell burst into Cappy Ricks' sanctum and + wakened the old gentleman from his afternoon siesta. + </p> + <p> + “The trap is set,” he announced. “Come on, Cappy! We're going up to the + broker's office now and give the order to sell our December wheat. I can't + go alone, you know. There wouldn't be an odor of sanctity about the + transaction if I did.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have Gregg & Company attend to it for us,” Cappy announced. + “You remember Harry Gregg, don't you? Used to be in the steamship business + years ago. Gosh, that boy knows me! He'll take a stiff finger bet from + Alden P. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + Together they motored uptown to the office of Gregg & Co., where + Cappy's card gained him instant admittance to the broker's private office. + Redell remained in the anteroom on pretense of speaking to an + acquaintance, and the instant Cappy disappeared into Gregg's office Redell + stepped out into the hall, where he waited until Cappy had booked his + order and came hunting for him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've sold my two hundred and fifty thousand bushels at a + dollar-ninety,” Cappy announced. + </p> + <p> + “How much margin?” Redell demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gregg didn't sting me very hard. Ten cents a bushel. It seemed like a + good bet to him. He looks for a drop in December wheat.” + </p> + <p> + “Met a pest out here and couldn't seem to get away from him,” Redell + explained. “Take me in and introduce me to Gregg, and I'll give him an + order to sell a jag of wheat for me.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy complied and Redell gave the broker his order. + </p> + <p> + “It will take about twenty-five thousand dollars to margin this trade, Mr. + Redell,” the latter remarked easily as he wrote out the order and handed a + copy to Redell. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” Cappy struck in. “Mr. Redell is one of our most delightful, + trustworthy and popular young men, and to ask him for twenty-five thousand + dollars today would prejudice his standing with his banker. I guarantee + him, Harry. Treat him as you'd treat me. I guarantee him up to a hundred + thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Your guaranty goes with me, Mr. Ricks,” Gregg answered promptly, and + shoved the copy of the order he had just booked over to Cappy, together + with the fountain pen. Cappy wrote: “O. K. Alden P. Ricks.” Redell gave + his check for ten thousand dollars margin and the deal was closed. When + the scheming pair returned to Cappy's office the latter gave Redell his + check for ten thousand to reimburse Redell for margining the trade, in + accordance with Cappy's verbal agreement to provide the sinews of war. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Cappy,” Redell announced as he stuffed Cappy's check into his + pocket, “the next move is to return to my office, close those charters + with the owners and turn the ships over to Ford & Carter. That matter + attended to, I shall, with eighteen charter parties in my pocket, drift + casually over to the Merchants' Exchange. There I shall find the market + reporters for both of our sunrise sheets; if they are not there I shall + wait until they arrive. These gifted young men I shall draw to one side; + to them I shall, with great gusto, relate a tale of Number One white + Australian wheat, shortly to descend upon the United States of America in + no less than eighteen vessels, now chartered for that purpose, with more + to follow. In proof of this statement I shall exhibit the charter parties; + and then—” + </p> + <p> + “Front-page story!” Cappy declared, interrupting. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet—but soon. To get on the front page a story must be rather + unusual. A perusal of our daily rags will convince the most skeptical that + the sensational, the unusual, the bizarre are what appeal most to the men + who make the newspapers. The unusual thing about our deal lies in the fact + that this is the first time in the history of Australia or the United + States that the former country has exported wheat into the latter—the + first time the latter has ever had to call on an outsider for help. Then, + Cappy, it will be a front-page story—and how those boys will hop to + it! Why, we'll get a column about Australian wheat invading the land of + the free whose rapacity threatens the very food that goes into the mouths + of little children! Little children and their mouths is good stuff! I'll + use that line when slipping the story to the boys. They might overlook it + if I didn't. I'll remind them of the six-cent loaf of bread, the + sufferings of the poor, and how far the importation of Australian wheat + will go to knock the Chicago wheat barons for a goal.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, here! You're too precipitate,” Cappy cautioned. “Don't tip this + story off to both reporters. That's coarse work. Tell it to one only. Put + him under obligations to you by seeming to give him a scoop. Tell him you + won't say a word to his competitor, and he'll tell his city editor the + story is exclusive; then they'll be certain to play it up big.” + </p> + <p> + “Cappy, you're the shadow of a rock in a weary land! Who'll tip off the + other reporter?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, of course. Leave it to me. A man doesn't go through the mill of + Big Business without knowing the way of that singularly useful individual, + the newspaper man.” + </p> + <p> + Redell sat down and laughed until the tears ran down his merry + countenance. Cappy thought the outlook sufficiently cheerful to warrant + that laugh, and suspected nothing. He even joined in the laugh. + </p> + <p> + “And to-morrow morning, when that story appears, the local brokerage firms + will be calling up Ford friend and gave him a paternal hug. He winked + wickedly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” he suggested, “suppose you and I go out and pin one on? + Hey? How about you, boy? A pint of '98, in order that we may properly + drink confusion to the wolf of want and damnation to dull care!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII + </h2> + <p> + Late that afternoon Cappy Ricks graciously summoned the Chronicle reporter + to his office and told him in detail all he knew about the Australian + wheat invasion. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he added, “this may be mere street gossip; but I think + there's something in it, my boy. At any rate, I thought you might care to + be tipped off to the situation. It looks like a corking story to me. I + suggest that you call up Ford & Carter and see what they have to say + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether the Examiner reporter has a tip on this?” the Chronicle + man queried hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “Not from me. This story is for you, young man. That's why I called you + down to my office.” + </p> + <p> + About the same hour J. Augustus Redell might have been seen at the press + table on 'Change, unfolding a similar story to the market reporter of the + Examiner, who thought it was a humdinger of a story, and so declared. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Glad you think so,” Mr. Redell replied, beaming upon him. “And + just to show you I'm right, I'll not breathe a word of it to the Chronicle + man.” + </p> + <p> + Having planted his journalistic bomb, Mr. Redell glanced at his watch. It + was exactly eleven o'clock. “I still have time,” he murmured, and departed + immediately to the office of Gregg of December wheat, but to cease selling + the instant the market hesitated to absorb it or the price broke a point. + At the same moment, in another brokerage office, Cappy Ricks was issuing a + similar order. Before the market closed, Cappy had succeeded in selling a + hundred and eighty thousand bushels, while Redell had disposed of a + hundred and thirty. Evidently the bears took it as it came, for the market + closed strong at $1.89. + </p> + <p> + Neither Cappy nor Redell reported at his office the following day. At the + hour when the market opened in Chicago both schemers appeared on the floor + of the Merchants' Exchange and bent their gaze upon the only blackboard on + 'Change they had not heretofore honored with their scrutiny—the + board in back of the Grain Pit, which carried the quotations on the + Chicago Board of Trade, already beginning to come in by wire. + </p> + <p> + For an hour the trading was inactive. Then suddenly the price broke half a + point as somebody tossed a lot of fifty thousand bushels on the market. + Cappy and Redell each wondered whether he might not be the responsible + party; and while they pondered somebody unloaded a hundred thousand + bushels at $1.88. Cappy gasped as the quotations appeared on the + blackboard. + </p> + <p> + “Something doing, Gus!” he whispered; Redell nodded. + </p> + <p> + And now commenced a period of wild trading. The price crept back to $1.89, + only to be assaulted and beaten back to $1.87; then, fraction by fraction + and point by point, the price fell; and J. Augustus Redell wagged his head + approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “They have received our message,” he said. “The riot is on!” + </p> + <p> + When the price had been beaten down to $1.83 Cappy turned to his + associate. + </p> + <p> + “I'm through!” he said. “Time to cover my shorts.” And he trotted away to + a telephone booth. + </p> + <p> + As for Redell, he would not intrust his fortune to a telephonic order, but + sprang into 'his runabout, parked at the curb outside the Exchange, and + scorched uptown to Gregg & Co.'s offices, where he learned that he had + sold four hundred and ten thousand bushels of December wheat. One hundred + thousand had been sold at $1.90, two hundred and eighty thousand at prices + varying from $1.89 to $1.88 1/8, and the remainder at 1.88. + </p> + <p> + “Buy me four hundred and ten thousand bushels at the market,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Before he left the office the sale had been confirmed and Mr. Redell's + shorts had been covered at a price ranging from $1.83 to $1.83 5/8, + whereupon he closed out his trade and received a check for his margin and + his profits. An hour later he met Cappy Ricks again on 'Change. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cappy?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “I cleaned up, thank you,” the old gentleman informed him. “Sold, bought, + and got the money. This is one time it rained duck soup and I was there + with a bucket.” + </p> + <p> + He prodded Mr. Redell playfully in the short ribs and the incident was + closed. They had made a profit of more than twenty thousand dollars each; + and when each returned to his office he forgot all about December wheat + until half past five that evening, when both met on the deserted floor of + the exchange to scan the blackboard. December wheat had closed that day at + $1.83! Two days later J. Augustus Redell called Cappy Ricks on the + telephone. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep!” + </p> + <p> + “Redell speaking. Read the story on the front page of the Chronicle this + morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No; what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “The British Government has placed an embargo on the exportation of wheat + from Australia; so all those eighteen charters I negotiated with Ford were + placed with Ford & Carter subject to Ford & Carter's ability to + make delivery and to prior sale. Before Ford & Carter could make them + firm orders and get in over their heads, I tipped them off to the + possibility of this government embargo.” + </p> + <p> + “You tipped them off! How did you know the British Government was going to + clap an embargo on Australian wheat?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I didn't know,” Redell confessed. “I just guessed it would; so I + advised Ford than I did—and I made a trifle more than twenty-four + thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so? Well, listen to me tell it; When you and I cashed in that day + our deal was closed wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'd played fair with you?” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly did, Gus.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I was freed from any further obligations to take you into + partnership with me, was I not?” + </p> + <p> + “That's how I figure it, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “That's how I figured it also, Cappy. Consequently, being morally certain + that the British Government would place an embargo on the exportation of + Australian wheat—Cappy, you must admit that the British Government + would have been absolutely crazy if it hadn't—I just called on Gregg + & Co. and bought another half million bushels of December wheat at + $1.83 to $1.84 a bushel. Then I sat tight and waited for that embargo + story to break. Cappy, do you know that story just raised hell on the + Chicago Pit today? The bears were caught napping; and the bulls got busy + and kicked the price up to $1.90 again, at which figure I unloaded and + took my profit.” + </p> + <p> + “You amazing rascal! Why didn't you tip your partner off to that deal?” + </p> + <p> + “We were no longer partners. You admitted that a moment ago. When I first + outlined this scheme I didn't have a dollar to spare with which I could + speculate. Every last cent was tied up in the business of the West Coast + Trading Company. So I schemed to take you in as a partner on one-half of + the deal; and you not only financed me but guaranteed me to the broker! + Your introduction was all I wanted. After that my credit was as good as + December wheat; in consequence of which, without a cent invested, I was + actually enabled to carry a trade for half a million bushels! Much obliged + to you, Cappy. You're a fine old sport, and I like you—I wouldn't be + surprised if you laid off on me after this—eh, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + “Gus,” said Cappy Ricks, “one of these days the Democratic party is going + to wake up and discover that America isn't where they left it the night + before! And when that happens they're going to ask you about it, you—you—infer-nal—” + </p> + <p> + The phone clicked. J. Augustus Redell had hung up. + </p> + <p> + “Drat it!—God bless him!” murmured Cappy Ricks—and hung up, + too. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + Whenever Cappy Ricks made up his mind that his Blue Star Navigation + Company ought to add another vessel to its rapidly growing fleet, he + preferred to build her; for a few bitter experiences early in life had + convinced him that the man who buys the other fellow's ship quite + frequently is given a bonus in the shape of the other fellow's troubles—troubles + which have the unhappy faculty of tilting the profit-and-loss account over + into the red-ink figures. In order to avoid these troubles, therefore, + Cappy would summon his naval architect, whom he would practically drive to + distraction by fussing over the plans submitted before giving a final + grudging acceptance. The blue prints approved, Cappy would spend a week + picking holes in the specifications, and when there was no more fault to + find Mr. Skinner, his general manager and the president of the Ricks + Lumber & Logging Company, would send a list of the timbers, planking, + and so on required, to one of Cappy's sawmills in Washington; for Cappy + had a theory—the good Lord knows why or where acquired—that + Douglas fir from the state of Washington was better for shipbuilding + purposes than Douglas fir grown in Oregon. Perhaps he figured that the + Columbia River, which separates the two states, made a difference in + grade. + </p> + <p> + The woods boss would then be adjured to select his trees with great care. + No tree would do that sprouted a limb within eighty feet of the butt, and + the butt had to be at least six feet in diameter, in order that it might + produce fine, clear, long-length planks that would not contain “heart” + timber—the heart of a log having a tendency to check or split when + seasoned. When the material was sawed a Blue Star steam schooner would + transport it to San Francisco Bay, and it would be stored in Cappy's + retail lumber yard in Oakland, to be seasoned and air-dried; following + which Cappy Ricks would let the contract for the building of the vessel to + a shipyard on Oakland Estuary, and sell the builder this seasoned stock at + the price of rough green material, even though it was worth two dollars a + thousand extra—not to mention the additional value for the + extra-long lengths furnished specially. Cappy's ancestors, back in Maine, + had built too many ships to have failed to impress upon him the wisdom of + this course; for, on this point at least, initial extravagance inevitably + develops into ultimate economy. + </p> + <p> + Following the laying of the keel, Cappy would come out of retirement and + become an extremely busy man. He had the vessel's engines to consider; and + for two weeks his private office would resound with the arguments and + recriminations of Cappy and his port engineer. There would be much talk of + pistons, displacement of cylinders, stroke, reciprocating engines, steeple + compound and triple-expansion engines, Scotch boilers, winches, + compressors, dynamos, composition and iron propellers and the latest + developments in crude-oil burners. And on the day when the port engineer, + grown desperate because of the old man's opposition to some detail, would + fly into a rage and resign, Cappy would know that, at last, everything was + all right; whereupon he would scornfully reject the resignation and take + his port engineer to luncheon at the Commercial Club, just to show he + wasn't harboring a grudge. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the port captain would be making daily visits to the + shipyard to make certain that the builder was holding rigidly to the + specifications and not trying to skimp here and there; and on Saturdays + Cappy would accompany him and satisfy himself that the port captain wasn't + being imposed upon. Finally the ship would be launched; and as she slid + down the ways Cappy Ricks would be standing on her forecastle head, his + old heart fluttering in his thirty-six-inch chest and his coat-tails + fluttering in the breeze, one arm round the port captain and the other + round the port engineer. As the hull slipped into the drink he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Boys, this is the life! I love it! By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, there's + more romance in ships than you'll find in most married lives!” Then he + would wave an arm up Oakland Estuary, which prior to the great war was the + graveyard of Pacific Coast shipping, and say with great pride: “Well, + we've done a good job on this craft, boys; she'll never end in Rotten Row! + Every sliver in her is air-dried and seasoned. That's the stuff! Build 'em + of unseasoned material and dry rot develops the first year; in five years + they're punk inside, and then—some fine day they're posted as + missing at Lloyd's. Did you ever see a Blue Star ship lying in Rotten Row? + No; you bet you didn't—and you never will! I never built a cheap + boat and I never ran 'em cheap. By gravy, the Blue Star ships are like the + Blue Nose that owns 'em! They'll be found dead on the job!” + </p> + <p> + Quite early in 1915 the Blue Star Navigation Company had found ample + opportunity, due to a world scarcity of tonnage, to dispose of several of + their oldest and smallest steam schooners at unbelievably fine prices. + </p> + <p> + “Get rid of them, Matt,” Cappy advised his son-in-law, Captain Matt + Peasley, whom he had made president of the company. “You have the + permission of the president emeritus to go as far as you like. Big boats + for us from now on, boy. Slip the little ones while the slipping is good. + These high prices will not prevail very long—only while the war + continues; and at the rate they're slaughtering each other over in France + the war will be over in six months; then prices will fall kerflump! Then + we'll build a couple of real steamers.” + </p> + <p> + So Matt Peasley promptly sold five steam schooners, following which he + made up his mind that the world still had two years of war ahead of it. + Accordingly he urged the letting of contracts for two + seven-thousand-five-hundred-ton steel freighters immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing!” Cappy declared. “Why, it's rank nonsense to think of + building now at wartime prices. If our recent sales have pinched us for + tonnage we'll have to charter from our neighbors and worry along as best + we can until the war is over.” + </p> + <p> + “You're making a mistake, Cappy Ricks,” his son-in-law warned him. + </p> + <p> + “Ask Skinner if I am. Skinner, let's have your opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner, always cautious and ultra-conservative promptly advised + against Matt Peasley's course; but Matt would not be downed without a + fight. + </p> + <p> + “I know prices for ship construction are fearfully high just now,” he + admitted; “but—mark my words!—they're going to double; and if + we place our contracts now, while we have an opportunity to do so, we'll + be getting in on the ground floor. I tell you that war hasn't really + started yet; and the longer it continues the higher will prices on all + commodities soar—but principally on ship construction. + Father-in-law, I beg of you to let me get busy and build. Suppose the + boats do cost us a quarter of a million dollars more each than we could + have built them for in 1914. What of it? We have the money—and if we + didn't have it we could borrow it. I don't care what a ship costs me when + freight rates are soaring to meet the advance in construction costs.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Cappy and Mr. Skinner hooted him down. Three months later, + however, when Cappy Ricks had changed his mind, and Mr. Skinner was too + heartbroken to curse himself for a purblind idiot, it was too late to + place the contracts. Every shipyard in the United States and abroad was + loaded up with building orders for three years in advance, and the Blue + Star Navigation Company was left to twiddle its corporate thumbs. Matt + Peasley was so angry that he almost speculated on the delight of being at + sea again, in command of a square rigger, with Cappy Ricks and Mr. Skinner + signed on as A.B.'s; in which condition of servitude he might dare to call + them aft and knock their heads together. However, he managed to have his + revenge. Every time nitrate freights went up a dollar a ton he told them + about it with great gusto, and the day he chartered the <i>Tillicum</i> + for Vladivostok, with steel for the Russian Government at seventy-five + dollars a ton, he had poor Cappy moaning in his wretchedness. + </p> + <p> + “Just think how nice it would be,” he taunted his aged relative, “if we + had only placed contracts for two big boats when I urged it. By the middle + of summer I'd have them both on the Vladivostok run—perhaps at a + hundred dollars a ton; and long before the war is over you could do what + you've been trying to do for the past ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” Cappy queried. + </p> + <p> + “Retire!” Matt retorted meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “In-fernal young scoundrel!” Cappy was angry enough to commit murder. “Out + of my office!” he shrilled, and pointed to the door. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV + </h2> + <p> + For once in his busy life it was, figuratively speaking, raining duck + soup, and poor Cappy was there with a fork! When he had recovered his + composure he sent for Matt Peasley. + </p> + <p> + “Matt, my dear boy,” he confessed miserably, “this is certainly one + occasion upon which father appears to have overlooked his hand. However, + none of us is perfect; and if we're caught out without an umbrella, so to + speak—” + </p> + <p> + “We?” Matt reminded him witheringly. “Cappy, it's all right to use that + 'we' stuff when you're talking to Skinner, but trot out the perpendicular + pronoun when you're talking to me. I hate to say 'I told you so'; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Lay off me!” Cappy pleaded. “I'm an old man, Matt; so be easy on me. + Besides, I don't make a mistake very often, and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know it. But when you blocked me on that building scheme you + certainly made up for lost time. Really, Cappy, you mustn't make me play + so close to my vest in these brisk times. If I'm to manage the Blue Star + Navigation Company I mustn't have my ideas pooh-poohed as if I were a + hare-brained child.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Matt; I know. But I built up the Blue Star Navigation Company and + the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company by playing 'em close, and it's a + hard habit to break. + </p> + <p> + “However, let us forget the past and look forward with confidence to the + future. Matt, my dear boy, since we cannot get a shipyard to build a + steamer for us, I'm going to break a rule of forty years' standing and buy + one in the open market. I guess that'll prove to you I'm not so hide-bound + with conservatism as you think. Go forth into the highways and the byways, + Matt, and see what they have for sale.” + </p> + <p> + “How high do you want me to go?” + </p> + <p> + “As high as they hung Haman—if you find it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “That's certainly a free hand; but I'm afraid it comes too late. I doubt + if there is an owner with the kind of steamer we want who is crazy enough + to sell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Tish! Tush! All things are for sale all the time. Scour the market, Matt, + and you'll find Cappy Ricks isn't the only damned fool left in the + shipping business. My boy, you'd be surprised at the number of so-called + business men who are entirely devoid of imagination. Dozens of them still + think the war will end this fall, but I'm willing to make a healthy bet + that the fall of 1917 still finds them going to it to beat four of a + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “You said something that time, father-in-law,” Matt replied laughingly. + </p> + <p> + Then he roughed the old man affectionately and went forth into California + Street, where he wore out much shoe leather before he located what he + considered a bargain and reported back to the president emeritus. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Cappy!” he declared. “You aren't the only boob in the + shipping business. I've located another.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what you get by taking father's advice,” Gappy retorted proudly. + “Have you bought a steamer?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I'm going to buy one this afternoon. She's going to cost us half + a million dollars, cash on the nail, and I have an option on her at that + figure until noon today. Skinner has a lot of lumber money he isn't using, + and I'm going to borrow a quarter of a million from his company on the + Blue Star note at six per cent. Don't want to run our own treasury too + low.” + </p> + <p> + “Dog-gone that Skinner! That's some more of his efficiency. I own both + companies, and it's just like taking money out of one pocket and putting + it into the other; but Skinner's a bug on system. Just think of making me + pay myself six per cent interest! However, I suppose we must have some + kind of order. What's the name of the steamer?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Penelope</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks slid out to the edge of his chair, placed one hand on each + knee, and appraisingly eyed his son-in-law over the rims of his glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Say that again, Matt—and say it slow,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + “I said <i>Penelope—P-e-n-e-l-o-p-e</i>. Maybe you call her the <i>Pen-elope!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Are you buying her as is?” Matt nodded. “To hear you tell it, Matt, one + might gather the impression that half a million dollars is about what we + give the janitor at Christmas. Boy, half a million dollars is real money.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the shipping business these days, Cappy. Why, you have to wave + that much under an owner's nose before he'll look up and show interest + enough to ask you who you are and who let you in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the man who would, in cold blood, consider paying half a million + dollars for the <i>Penelope</i> is certainly ripe for a padded cell,” + Cappy jeered. “That fellow Hudner, of the Black Butte Lumber Company, owns + her, does he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know exactly the condition she's in. I'll bet a cooky her bottom + plates are rusted so thin from lack of an occasional coat of red paint + that if you were to stand on her bridge and toss a tack hammer down her + main hatch you'd punch a hole in her. She's a long, narrow-gutted, cranky + coffin—that's what she is; and the worst-found ship in Pacific + waters. Why, let me tell you something, young man: she can't get by the + inspectors this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “She has just gotten by them,” Matt contradicted. “Passed yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that signify? When her skipper has her up for inspection he + scours the water front like a hungry dog, borrowing a boathook here, a + sound life-boat there, some fire buckets elsewhere, a hose from the fire + tug, and a lot of engine-room tools wherever he can get them. As for life + preservers, he rents them for ten cents each from a marine junk dealer. + So, when the inspectors arrive, the <i>Penelope</i> is a well-found ship; + as soon as they pass her the skipper returns the equipment, with thanks. + As for paint—why, the only painting she ever gets is when Hudner + lays her alongside some British ship to discharge a foreign cargo of + lumber into the lime-juicer; then her mate steals all the paint in the + Britisher's lazaret. The poor, unfortunate devil! He has to do something + to make a showing with the <i>Penelope's</i> owner! I tell you, Matt, I + know this man Hudner! He's as thrifty as an Armenian and as slippery as a + skating rink. He's laying to stab you, boy. Mind your step!” + </p> + <p> + “Even so, Cappy, she's a bargain. I expect to spend fifty thousand dollars + putting her in first-class condition after we get her.” + </p> + <p> + “You expect to spend it! Why, how you talk! Hudner is the one that should + spend that money. For the love of trade, what is he selling you? A ship or + a hulk?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what she is; we can make her pay for herself and earn half a + million or a million extra before this war ends. And she won't be such a + bad vessel after she's shipped a couple of new plates. She has a dead + weight capacity for six thousand tons and was built at Sunderland in 1902. + When she went ashore off Point Sur, in 1909, Hudner bought her from the + underwriters for five thousand dollars and spent more than half her + original cost repairing her. That, of course, made her tantamount to a + ship built in the United States, and under American registry she can run + between American ports. And that's what we want. She'll be just the thing + to carry lumber to New York, via the Canal, when the war ends and the + nitrate harvest is over.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks threw up his hands. + </p> + <p> + “You see before you, my boy,” he said mournfully, “a dollar-burdened, + world-weary old man, who for ten years has been trying to retire from + active business, and cannot. The reason is he dassent; if he dassed, this + shebang would be in the hands of the sheriff within a year. Now, listen, + young feller! I know all about the <i>Penelope</i>. Before the war she had + repaid Hudner, with interest, every cent she cost him, and since the war I + suppose she's made half a million dollars. Now when Hudner finds he has to + spend a lot of money fixing her up, he figures it's best to get rid of her + and saddle somebody else with the bill. Her intrinsic value is just about + one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and when Hudner asks half a + million for her he expects to get four hundred and fifty thousand. In + order to play safe, go back and offer him four hundred thousand dollars; + presently he'll come down fifty thousand and you'll come up fifty + thousand, and the trade will be closed on that basis. Meantime I'll sit + here and weep as I reflect on the cost of putting that ruin in fit shape + to receive a Blue Star house flag. I tell you, Matt, I wouldn't send + Pancho Villa to sea in her as she is now.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley, like Cappy Ricks, was a Yankee; when he did business he + liked to chaffer; and, after all—he thought—there was a + certain shrewd philosophy in what his foxy father-in-law had said. At + least Cappy had supplied him with ammunition for argument; so he went back + to Hudner's office and argued and pleaded and ridiculed, but all to no + avail. He returned to Cappy Ricks' office. + </p> + <p> + “I fought him all over his office,” he complained, “but he wouldn't come + down a cent. I think we'd better take a chance and give him half a + million.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlesticks! Stay with him, Matt. I know Hudner. He acts like he's full + of bellicose veins, but anybody can outgame him. Let your option expire; + then to-morrow meet him accidentally on 'Change and talk with him half an + hour about everything on earth except the S. S. <i>Penelope</i>. Just + before you leave him he'll grab you by the lapel of your coat and ask if + you're still interested in the <i>Penelope</i>. Then you say: 'Why, yes—moderately; + but not at half a million.' Then you make him a firm offer—for the + last time—of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and he'll say: + 'I'll split the difference with you'—and before he can crawfish you + accept. You're bound to make at least twenty-five thousand by following my + advice, Matt.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley ran his big hand through his thick black locks. + </p> + <p> + “By jingo,” he declared, “we'd make twenty-five thousand dollars while + we're dickering with Hudner!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my boy; but then I don't like Hudner, and it's awful to do + business with a son of a horsethief you don't like and let him put one + over on you. That's the thrill of doing business, Matt. Though I'd hate to + have anybody think I'm in business for fun, still, if I thought I couldn't + get some fun out of business I'd go right down to Mission Street Wharf and + end all.” + </p> + <p> + “Nitrate freights are up to thirty dollars a ton,” said Matt later that + day. “They were twelve a year and a half ago. Cappy, we can't risk the + delay; and I'm sorry I took your advice and let my option expire. I insist + on buying.” He reached for Cappy's desk 'phone. “I'm going to tell Hudner + to prepare the bill of sale—that I'll be up in fifteen minutes with + the check. He who hesitates is lost, and—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and a youth stood in the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. J. O. Heyfuss is calling,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Show him in immediately,” Cappy ordered, glad of the opportunity to delay + Matt's telephonic acceptance of the vessel at Hudner's price. “Hold on a + minute, Matt,” he continued, turning to his son-in-law. “Heyfuss is a ship + broker; maybe he has a ship to sell us; she might prove to be a better buy + than the <i>Penelope</i>... Howdy, Heyfuss? Come in and sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heyfuss entered smilingly, saluted both satellites of the Blue Star + and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” he announced, “wonders will never cease. Every day I'm + seeing, hearing and doing wonderful things in the shipping business. Day + before yesterday I bought the old barkentine <i>Mayfair</i>. She'd been + laid up in Rotten Row for seven years, and for at least four years the + tide has been rising and falling inside her. She cost me seven hundred and + fifty dollars, and I sold her the same afternoon to Al Hanify for a + thousand. Not very much of a profit; but then it was Saturday and + everybody closes up shop at noon, you know. So I felt the day wasn't a + blank, anyhow. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you suppose Al did? You'll laugh. He called up Crowley her + out on Hanlon's Marine Way, putting a new bottom in her. They're going to + spend twenty thousand dollars on her; and when she's ready for sea Redell + has a cargo of fir for Sydney waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + “She'll come back with coal and make her owners at least fifty thousand + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very interesting to outsiders, but commonplace stuff to us,” + Cappy reminded his visitor. “Have you got a commission to sell a ship for + somebody?” + </p> + <p> + “Want one?” + </p> + <p> + “Surest thing you know!” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll sell you the <i>Alden Besse</i>. She's an old tea + clipper, built in the forties; but she's sound and tight. Been a motion + picture ship for the past five years. I can deliver her to you for forty + thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you'll not. I sold her to the motion picture people for fifteen + hundred,” Cappy countered, “and I don't want her back at any price. I send + my boys to sea to earn a safe living, not to visit Davy Jones' locker.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think I might get you the old Australian prison ship, <i>Success</i>. + She was built at Rangoon in 1790, of teak, and will last forever. Perhaps + you saw her when she was exhibited at the Exposition last year. Might get + her for you kind of cheap.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing. Heyfuss, we want a steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, but I haven't a thing in steamers. Just sold the last one I had + ten minutes ago—the <i>Penelope</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The what!” Matt Peasley and Cappy cried in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Penelope</i>. Sold her to a big Eastern powder company. She goes + into the nitrate trade, of course. These munition manufacturers must have + powder, and to get powder they must have nitrate, and to get nitrate they + must have ships, and to get ships they must pay the price. I got Hudner a + million dollars for that ruin of a <i>Penelope.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley gently seized J. O. Heyfuss by the ear and led him to the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Out, thief!” he cried. “You can't sell us anything; so we don't want you + hanging round this office. You might steal the safe or a roll-top desk, or + something.” + </p> + <p> + Heyfuss departed, laughing good-naturedly, and Matt Peasley turned to + confront Cappy Ricks. The latter had shrunk up in his chair and was + looking as chopfallen and guilty as a dog caught sucking eggs. He favored + his big son-in-law with a quick, shifty glance, and then looked down at + the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Matt folded his arms and stared at him until he looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you go to pick on me!” he warned Matt furiously. “I'll not be + picked on in my own office, even by a relative.” + </p> + <p> + Matt threw back his head and chanted, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“There was I, waiting at the church, + Waiting at the church—”</i> +</pre> + <p> + “I was right!” Cappy shrilled. “My mode of procedure was without a flaw.” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely! The operation was a success, but the patient died.” + </p> + <p> + “But a feller just has to haggle!” Cappy wailed. He was almost on the + verge of tears. “It's the basic principle of all trading. Why, I've made + my everlasting fortune by haggling. Drat your picture, don't you know that + the very pillars of financial success rest on counter-propositions?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, relative, listen: I haven't said a word to you, have I?” Matt + replied. + </p> + <p> + “No; but you looked it, and I'll not be looked at.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Cappy, I'll not look. But I can't help thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking what?” + </p> + <p> + “That it's about time you quit talking about retiring—and retired!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI + </h2> + <p> + With this Parthian shot Matt himself retired, leaving Cappy to shiver and + bow his head on his breast; in which position he remained motionless for + fully an hour. + </p> + <p> + “I guess the boy's right,” he soliloquized finally. “I think I'd better + retire, after pulling that kind of a deal twice in the same place. The + pace is getting too swift for me, I think; I can't keep up... Well, I + guess they've got the goods on me this time. Matt was certainly on the job + twice, and I blocked him both times ... Oh, Lord! I'll never hear the last + of this... By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, I've lost my punch! Matt didn't + say so; but he thinks it. And I don't blame him a bit.” + </p> + <p> + The door of Cappy's office opened and again the youth stood in the + entrance. “Mr. Redell is calling; there's a gentleman with him,” he + announced. + </p> + <p> + “Tell 'em I'm busier'n a cranberry merchant,” Cappy snarled. “And unless + you're figuring on hunting a new job, my son, don't you come in here again + today.” + </p> + <p> + The youth retired. However, he knew from experience that Cappy Ricks never + discharged anybody save for insubordination or rank incompetence; hence, + he did not hesitate to disobey the old gentleman's edict. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Redell says his business is very important,” he announced, presenting + himself once more at the door. + </p> + <p> + “All right! No rest for the weary. Show them in.” + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell entered, accompanied by no less a personage than the + British Consul. Cappy greeted them without enthusiasm and bade them be + seated. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” J. Augustus Redell announced cheerily, “It's plain to be seen that + Little Sunshine hasn't been round this office recently.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy grunted. + </p> + <p> + “What's gone wrong, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything! Been going wrong for years and I never realized it until this + afternoon. Ah, Gus, my dear young friend, how I envy you your youth, your + capacity to think, your golden dreams, your boundless energy, your ability + to make two-dollar bills grow where one-dollar bills grew before, thus + making an apparently barren prospect as verdant as a meadow in spring. But + make the most of your opportunity, young feller! The day will come to you, + as it has come to me, when everything you do will be done twenty minutes + too late; when every dollar you make will be subject to a cash discount of + one hundred per cent; when every competitor you held cheap will suddenly + develop the luck of the devil, the brains of a Demosthenes, and the + courage of a hog going to war.” + </p> + <p> + “I should judge that you have recently suffered a great bereavement.” + </p> + <p> + “I have, Augustus, I have. Through my indecision I have just lost a bank + roll a greyhound couldn't have jumped over. Suppose it was a paper profit? + I grieve just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it, Cappy! Life is real, life is earnest, and you have a bank roll + of real profits a giraffe couldn't reach the top of.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't the money, Gus. Money is only a vulgar symbol of my + bereavement. The trouble is—I've lost my punch! I can't think, Gus; + I can't act promptly. I'm out of touch with my times. I remind myself of + nothing so much as the old rooster that suddenly discovered he had been + elected to furnish the dinner the following Sunday. His hens cackled and + called to him that they had found some worms, but he wouldn't pay any + attention to them; just leaned up against the wire netting in the poultry + yard and said to himself: 'Oh, hell! What's the use? Today an egg—tomorrow + a feather duster!'” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be pessimistic, Cappy. Don't! It doesn't become you, and I don't + believe a word you're telling me. You're still the old he-fox of the + world; and I've come to you for help on a deal that's going to mean a + whole lot of money to both of us if we can only put it through.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Gus, but I'm not interested. As a matter of fact, I've + retired.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Nonsense! I know where there's a beautiful ten-thousand-ton, + net register, steel steamer to be bought for three hundred thousand + dollars—” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks threw out an arm and pressed his hand against Redell's mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h-h!” he warned. “Sh-h-h! Hush!” + </p> + <p> + With the agility of a man half his age Cappy ran to the door, bolted it on + the inside and returned to his desk. He was rubbing his hands and his eyes + were aglow with interest. + </p> + <p> + “What are you sh-h-h-ing about?” Redell demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Matt Peasley and that cowardly Skinner. Not a word of this to them, Gus! + Not—a—whisper!” And he winked one eye and twisted up the + corner of his mouth knowingly. Mr. Redell nodded his promise and Cappy + went on: “Now Gus, my dear young friend, start in at the beginning and + tell me everything. I assume, of course, that this is real business and + not another of your jokes on the old man. Word of honor, Gus?” + </p> + <p> + “Word of honor, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; blaze away! Come, come! What have you got to offer?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a condition and I offer you a half interest in it if you can + suggest a plan to circumvent His Royal Highness, Kaiser Wilhelm—” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! Enough!” Cappy interrupted, and turned to the British Consul: + “This is an international affair, eh? See if I don't state the proposition + in a nutshell—if I may be pardoned the bromide. This steamer is a + German, and the proposition is to get her under the American flag so + firmly that she'll stay there; then, I suppose, we're to charter her to + the British Government, or one of Britain's allies—Russia, for + instance.” + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell and the British Consul exchanged admiring winks. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you, Mister Consul?” Redell declared triumphantly. “Mr. + Ricks knows the story before we have told it. And yet he's complaining + about the loss of his punch!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy looked slightly self-conscious; it was plain the compliment pleased + him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gus, my boy,” he answered, “I have lost my punch, though at that + I'm not exactly a pork-and-beaner. Hum-m-m! Ahem! Harumph-h-h! This must + be a hard order to fill. Mister Consul, when Gus Redell has to come to me + for help. That son of a gun can move faster and go through more obstacles + than quicksilver. Gus, what's gone wrong with you? Have you lost your + punch too? And at your age?” + </p> + <p> + “Looks like it, Cappy. I've thought and thought until I'm desperate, and + not an idea worth while has presented itself. That's why I've come to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't guarantee a cure, my boy. But I'll say this much: If you + and I can't put this thing over, then it just isn't put-overable. Fire + away, Gus!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever heard of the steamer <i>Bavarian?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Of course! She belongs to Adolph Koenitz and flies the German flag. Since + the war started she's been interned down in Mission Bay.” + </p> + <p> + Redell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Adolph Koenitz never became an American citizen, despite the fact that he + had lived in San Francisco twenty years and operated three steamers out of + this port. He was a reserve officer in the German Navy; and when the war + broke out he interned his ships, placed his entire estate in his wife's + name and reported for duty. He perished in the Battle of Jutland, both his + boys were killed at Verdun, and now his widow would like to sell the <i>Bavarian</i> + and get some cash. She had a large income from an estate in Germany, but + the war cut that off. + </p> + <p> + “Also, it appears that Koenitz was rather heavily involved, and the + expense of maintaining those interned steamers, with their German crews + aboard, has his widow badly worried; in fact, she has reached the point + where she finds it necessary to sell one of the steamers in order to hang + on to the other two. She has tried to raise a mortgage on the <i>Bavarian</i>, + but nobody cares to loan money on an interned German steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Cappy replied sarcastically. “And I'm amazed that you should + consider me boob enough to consider seriously buying the same steamer + outright! Gus, I'd have about as much use for that steamer as I would have + for a tail. Even if I should buy her now, and not use her until the war is + over, I should be risking my money; for the German Government, if you + remember, issued an order in 1915 forbidding its subjects to sell their + interned ships without the consent of the said government. And, even if + Mrs. Koenitz can procure the Kaiser's consent, I fail to see the wisdom of + tying up three hundred thousand dollars in an idle investment.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but under those circumstances she wouldn't be an idle investment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she would, my boy. Great Britain issued an Order in Council in 1914 + notifying all neutral nations that she would not sanction the transfer of + registry of any German vessel. A few daring devils took a chance—and + what happened? The British Navy overhauled the ships at sea and took them + into a British port where a British prize court confiscated them. There is + the case of the <i>Mazatlan</i>, for instance. She was German owned and + flew the German flag; her owner put her under the Mexican flag, and + subsequently she was sold at a bargain to one of our neighbors, who put + her under American registry. Do you know where the <i>Mazatlan</i> is now? + Well, I'll tell you: She's freighting war munitions for Johnny Bull—and + our optimistic neighbor isn't collecting the freight money either.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, Mr. Ricks; quite true—in ordinary cases,” the Consul + told him smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet! I smell a mouse. Hum-m-m! That simplifies + matters. We-l-l! If you are in position, Mister Consul, to give me your + word of honor as a gentleman and an officer of your king that the British + Navy will turn its blind side to the <i>Bavarian</i> when she puts to sea, + I'll buy the <i>Bavarian</i> so fast it'll make your head swim. In return + for this favor, of course, I am to charter the ship at the going rates to—” + </p> + <p> + “Our ally, the Russian Government, Mr. Ricks. And you have my word of + honor, which is all I can give you; for a deal like this, as you know, + cannot be made in writing. I have had the matter up with the Admiralty, + however, and permission has been granted me to give the verbal assurance + of my government.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make a finger bet with your government, Mister Consul. As for Kaiser + Bill's consent to the transfer—<i>heraus mit 'em!</i> We'll get + along without that. Wilhelm doesn't cut much ice with me these days and + I'm willing to wager the price of the <i>Bavarian</i> that such ice as he + does cut will blame soon melt. Gus, you say Mrs. Koenitz wants to sell?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And she doesn't care who buys?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a particle! She's sore on the Kaiser; it's been thumbs down on + Wilhelm ever since Adolph and the boys lost the number of their mess. She + says to me: 'Herr Riddle, dot Kaiser orders war like I order beer!' + However, there's an 'if' to the transfer. While we know the British Navy + will not bother us should we buy the steamer, still enthusiastic + Britishers all over the world will have their eyes on the <i>Bavarian</i> + and clamor for her capture. Great Britain cannot publicly—or, at + least, obviously—make any exceptions to her Order in Council, and + we'll have to mess up that steamer's title and nativity to save John + Bull's social standing. We must make a bluff at deceiving him. If we can + show some sort of legal transfer to another flag J. B. can play blindman's + buff with dignity and honor; otherwise nix!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks' eyes sought the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done to deserve this?” he demanded of an invisible Presence. + “Why am I afflicted thus? Job had his boils; but you and I, Augustus, are + covered with a financial rash, bleeding at every pore, and with no relief + in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you this was a tough one, Cappy. I've pondered the situation until + my brain is addled like a last year's nest egg, and finally I've come to + you as a last resort. If you can't cook up an airtight scheme, then there + is no help; and I'm going to forget the <i>Bavarian</i> and attend to some + business more profitable and less debilitating.” + </p> + <p> + “There must be an out, Gus. It's too good a thing to abandon. Suppose you + and the Consul go away and give me time to concentrate my thoughts on this + problem. It's a holy terror; but—Well, I've seen dogs almost as sick + as this one cured.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you!” Mr. Redell murmured fervently. “Consul, let us depart and + leave Mr. Ricks to himself. Call me up, Cappy, when you see a ray of + light. Two heads are better than one, you know.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII + </h2> + <p> + When his visitors had gone Cappy Ricks gave orders that he was not to be + disturbed on any pretext whatever. Then he locked himself in, swung his + legs to the top of his desk, slid low in his chair until he rested on his + spine, bowed his head on his breast and closed his eyes. The battle was + on. + </p> + <p> + One hour later J. Augustus Redell entered breathlessly in response to a + telephonic invitation from Cappy. + </p> + <p> + “Gus,” the latter began, “am I right in assuming that you possess a + reasonable amount of influence with that hair-trigger partner of yours, + Live Wire Luiz?” Redell nodded. “And is Luiz absolutely trustworthy? Will + he stay put and keep his mouth closed?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my partner, Cappy. He's mercurial, but a gentleman. I'd trust him + with my life, and I always trust him with my bank roll. He requires no + watching.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Gus, send Live Wire Luiz down to Guaymas and have him incorporate + the North and South American Steamship Company there, under the extremely + flexible and evershifting laws of the Republic of Mexico. Luiz is a + Peruvian and speaks Spanish, and knows the Mexican temperament. He can + easily procure three Mexicans to act as a dummy board of directors; his + own name, of course, for obvious reasons, must never appear in connection + with this company. A thousand dollars ought to cover this Mexican + expense.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider that point attended to, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine! Now then, when this corporate vehicle is in running order and has + opened an office in Guaymas, Live Wire Luiz will write your company, The + West Coast Trading Company, saying that his company has been referred to + you by some mutual friends in Guaymas. Of course Luiz doesn't sign this + letter. It is signed by the North and South American Steamship Company, + per the dummy secretary or president. The letter goes on to say that the + latter company is in the market for a steamer, the general specifications + of which, singularly enough, fit the <i>Bavarian.</i> The vessel is to be + used for transporting troops up and down the west coast of Mexico and for + freighting munitions from Japan; and in a delicate way it might be hinted + that the de facto Mexican Government is the real buyer. A commission of + five per cent is offered you for buying the vessel for them, said + commission to be split fifty-fifty with the North and South American + Steamship Company; this being the Mexican way of doing business, as you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider that matter attended to also. I'll write the letter myself + before Luiz starts for Guaymas, so I'll be certain the job will be done + exactly right.” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you receive this letter you get busy and wire the North and + South American Steamship Company that you have just the vessel they want, + price three hundred thousand dollars. Live Wire Luiz will then cause a + reply to that telegram to be sent, advising you that his clients would not + balk at paying half a million! That, of course, is hint enough for you. + Right away you see the old Mexican graft sticking out, and you say to + yourself, 'Why not?' And you do! You reply to that telegram, saying you + erred when naming the price in your first telegram; that it is five + hundred thousand instead of three. Then you come down to me and I hand you + three hundred thousand dollars in currency; for in such a transaction as + this, checks, with their indorsements, provide a trail that may prove + embarrassing. You take that money and deposit it in escrow in any local + bank against a bill of sale of the <i>Bavarian</i> from Mrs. Koenitz to + the North and South American Steamship Company, of Guaymas, Mexico. Before + doing so, however, have Mrs. Koenitz place the vessel under Mexican + registry. She can do that through the Mexican Consul for the de facto + government; and when the bill of sale is turned over to you, record it + promptly with the Mexican Consul. Later you will record it in Mexico. + </p> + <p> + “The vessel is now the property of the North and South American Steamship + Company; and the North and South American Steamship Company is the + property of Cappy Ricks and the West Coast Trading Company, per Senor + Felipe Luiz Almeida. But we must never admit this. To have the North and + South American Steamship Company transfer the vessel to us would be very + coarse work indeed; so we must avoid that.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get to that presently. The steamer is now in our possession, and you + will already have notified her German skipper and crew to hunt a new + residence. You will then put an American skipper in charge and ship + American engineers and a crew of parrakeets; and on the very day the sale + is consummated, just before the customhouse closes, have the skipper clear + the vessel for Guaymas and put to sea that night. Since she carries no + cargo the collector of the port will not stop you; the risk of going to + sea is all our own—if we care to take it. + </p> + <p> + “The next day the newspaper boys will be hot on the trail. An interned + German merchantman has suddenly transferred to Mexican registry and put to + sea! Now! Inquiry at the customhouse and at the Mexican consulate shows + that the vessel has been sold, and the trail leads straight to the office + of the West Coast Trading Company. You are interviewed—and say + nothing; and that day, when I appear on 'Change, these baffled journalists + drive me into a corner and ask me what I think about it. And I'll tell + them it's just another case of the lowly Mexican peon being hornswoggled + by the foxy Americano. The Mexicans wanted a ship and asked the American + to buy one for them. He did—only he forgot to tell them she was a + German. She was such a good buy they snapped her up without asking + questions, though in all probability the poor devils had no knowledge of + Kaiser Wilhelm's edict that no German ships shall be sold without the + consent of the German Government. I will say that it looks to me as if the + ancient rule of <i>caveat emptor</i> applied, and that the Mexicans are + stung and have no comeback. Then, again, it may be a shrewd German trick + to put something over. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they make a snorting story out of what I give them; the frau's + friends read it and think she's done something smart. Nobody feels sorry + for a Mexican. Next morning you come out with a blast of righteous + indignation and admit that you cannot or will not deny that the vessel was + sold to parties representing the de facto Mexican Government. You deny, + however, that you sold them a pig in a poke; and the papers print a copy + of your letter to the North and South American Steamship Company + specifically advising them that the vessel was a German and liable to + prove an embarrassment. This, of course, clears you, and the blame for the + graft is placed where it belongs—on the shoulders of the North and + South American Steamship Company, which has deliberately stung the de + facto government!” + </p> + <p> + “Cappy,” said J. Augustus Redell admiringly, “you're immense!” + </p> + <p> + “I accept the nomination. Upon her arrival in Guaymas the <i>Bavarian's</i> + name is changed to <i>La Golondrina</i>, or <i>Sobre las Olas</i>, or <i>Manana</i>, + or <i>Poco Tiempo</i>—whatever's right. I think we may safely gamble + that she will arrive in Guaymas in the light of what the British Consul + told us; and, in view of her departure unannounced, no British warship on + the West Coast can get so far north as Guaymas in time to intercept her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, having changed her name, she picks up a general cargo and comes + back to San Francisco, where she goes on dry dock and is cleaned and + painted, has her gear overhauled, fills up with fuel oil and stores, and—but + that's enough. Now comes the blow-off. + </p> + <p> + “Strange to relate, you haven't received a cent of that five-per-cent + commission due you from the North and South American Steamship Company for + buying the <i>Bavarian</i> for them. The issue is in dispute. They claim + you are not entitled to any commission, because you stung them with a + German vessel; and you claim you told them she was a German, but that they + needed her so badly they would take a chance. Also, the fact that she went + to sea that time in such a hurry, and forgot to pay for her fuel oil and + stores, looks rather suspicious; so, when the vessel comes off dry dock, + with about ten thousand dollars' worth of bills against her, you decide to + protect your claim for the commission—and, by the Holy Pink-Toed + Prophet, Gus, you libel her! The news breaks into the papers, and next day + every creditor of the ship files a libel on her, also, to protect his + claim. Gus, she'll have so many plasters on her she'll look like a German + coming home from the war.” + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell leaped from his chair and picked little Cappy Ricks up + in his arms and hugged him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cappy! Cappy!” he yelled. “You're the shadow of a rock in a weary + land—a cup of cool water in the suburbs of hell!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you game?” Cappy gurgled. + </p> + <p> + “Does a cat eat liver? Cappy, you've solved the problem! Naturally the + North and South American Steamship Company does not directly or indirectly + make any attempt to lift these libels and get the vessel to sea. Why? I'll + tell you—or, rather, I'll tell the newspaper boys and they'll tell + everybody. It will appear that as soon as the Mexican Consul here got an + inkling of the apparent plan of the North and South American Steamship + Company, of Guaymas, to sting Don Venustiano Carranza by slipping him a + steamer with a clouded title, he must have wired Don Venustiano to round + up the directors of the said company and give them the <i>ley fuga</i>. + Fortunately for these culprits, however, they got next in time to get out + from under. Mounting swift steeds, the entire board of directors fled + north and east, never pausing until they had joined Pancho Villa; and we + learn from some Border gossips that all three subsequently were killed in + action. But, before leaving Guaymas, they left their tangled steamship + affairs in the hands of their attorney—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, Gus! They left their tangled steamship affairs in the + hands of my attorney, and they gave him an absolute, ironclad, airtight + power of attorney to sell the ship, receive and receipt for all money due + the company, and so on, and so on, ad libitum, ad infinitum; said power of + attorney being nonrevocable for five years.” + </p> + <p> + “Great stuff! In due course the libelants sue in the United States + District Court; your attorney appears for the defendants and confesses + judgment, but pleads for a ten-day stay of execution until he can raise a + mortgage on the vessel. But, strange to relate, the ten-day stay expires + and the judgments against the steamer are not paid; so the judge of the + United States District Court orders the steamer sold at public auction on + the floor of the Merchants' Exchange to the highest bidder, to satisfy the + claims of the creditors. Thirty days later the United States Marshal + conducts the sale, and a gentleman named Cappy Ricks buys her in. The + United States Marshal gives the said Ricks a bill of sale for her, which + the said Ricks thereupon records in the United States Customhouse, and—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Und Hoch der Kaiser! Und Hoch der</i> John J. Bull! We've finally got + that clear American title we've been looking for. It makes no difference + what the nationality of a vessel is; the minute she enters the territorial + waters of the United States of America she is amenable to the laws of the + United States of America, one of which reads thusly: 'Thou shalt pay thy + bills; and if thou dost not, then <i>poco tiempo</i> thou shalt be made to + pay them, even unto the seizure and sale of thy ship.' And with the + purchase of that ship, under an order of sale issued by the United States + District Court, she becomes a United States ship; we register her as such; + and the United States simply has to stand back of the bill of sale it gave + us. Germany knows that; England knows it; Austria knows it; and from the + jackstaff of the late <i>Bavarian</i>, now renamed the <i>Alden M. Peasley</i>, + in honor of my first grandson, there floats—” + </p> + <p> + J. Augustus Redell raised his index finger, enjoining silence: + </p> + <p> + “Now then! One, two, three! Down, left, up!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“O-ho, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, + What so-ho pro-houdly we hailed at the twilight's last + gleaming?”</i> +</pre> + <p> + Cappy Ricks sprang to attention. Presently, through the partition, his + cracked old voice reached Mr. Skinner: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“Then conquer we must, when our cause is so just; + And this be our motto: 'May we nev-er go bust!'”</i> +</pre> + <p> + “What's doing here?” Mr. Skinner demanded, banging at the door, which was + locked. + </p> + <p> + “Go way back and sit down!” Cappy shrilled. “I'll show you and Matt + Peasley where to head in, yet—see if I don't!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII + </h2> + <p> + Cappy Ricks and J. Augustus Redell arrived at the Merchants' Exchange + promptly at one o'clock on the date of the sale of the S. S. <i>General + Carranza,</i> as the <i>Bavarian</i> was now called. Just inside the door + they paused and looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Whe-e-e-ew!” murmured Cappy Ricks. “All the shipping men in the world are + here to bid on our property, Gus.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Redell whistled softly. “This,” he said, “will be some auction!” + </p> + <p> + Cappy chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing that a shipping man in this country has more + respect for than an Order in Council—and that is an Order in the + United States District Court!” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. It's backed up by our army and navy.” + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, somebody's sporting blood is going to be + tested today; and something tells, me, Augustus, my dear young friend, + that it's going to be Matt Peasley's.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so, Cappy?” + </p> + <p> + Again Cappy chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Having used German methods to bring about this auction sale,” he + confessed, “I concluded to steal a little more of this Teutonic stuff; so + I established a system of espionage in Skinner's office and another in + Matt Peasley's. Gus, I got a lot of low-down information on those two + young pups; they're trying to slip something over on the old dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they'll never teach him any new tricks, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it! I observe that, as usual, Jim Searles will conduct the + auction. He's climbing up on the block now, and, by the Toenails of Moses, + Matt Peasley is on the job! Look, Gus! You can see his black head sticking + up out of the heart of the riot.” + </p> + <p> + As Cappy and Redell joined the crowd Jim Searles, by acclamation the + auctioneer of the Port of San Francisco, rapped smartly with his little + gavel, and a tense silence settled over the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “This,” Mr. Searles announced, “will be a fight to a finish, winner take + all. In accordance with an order of the United States District Court I am + about to sell, at public auction, to the highest bidder, the Mexican + Steamship <i>General Carranza</i>, ex-German Steamship <i>Bavarian</i>, to + satisfy the following judgments: Mr. J. Augustus Redell—” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out!” roared Matt Peasley. “We've all read the list of creditors, + and you're only gumming up the game. Come down to business Jim.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy, Peasley! Sure! Cut it out, Jim! Get busy!” A dozen voices + seconded Captain Matt Peasley's motion and Jim Searles rapped for order. + </p> + <p> + “How much am I offered?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “One million dollars!” roared Matt Peasley. + </p> + <p> + On the fringe of the eager crowd Cappy Ricks leaned up against his friend + Redell and commenced to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The young scoundrel!” he chortled. “He never said a word to me about this + auction; he was afraid I'd butt in and block his purchase; so, for his + impudence, I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget. Bid, Gus! Bet 'em + as high as a hound's back.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Matt Peasley, representing the Blue Star Navigation Company, bids + one million dollars. Chicken feed! Won't some real sport please tilt the + ante?” Jim Searles pleaded. “Don't waste my time, gentlemen. It's + valuable. Let's get this thing over and go back to our offices.” + </p> + <p> + “One million five hundred thousand!” called J. Augustus Redell. + </p> + <p> + “I called for a sport and drew a piker,” Jim Searles retorted. “Mr. J. + Augustus Redell, of the West Coast Trading Company, bids a million and a + half.” + </p> + <p> + Young Dalton Mann, representing the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, raised + his hand and snapped his fingers at the auctioneer. + </p> + <p> + “And a hundred thousand!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “And a hundred thousand!” Matt Peasley retorted. + </p> + <p> + “And fifty thousand!” Mann flung back at him. + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley eyed his antagonist belligerently. + </p> + <p> + “That's doing very well for a young fellow,” Searles complimented the last + bidder. “Skipper Peasley, are you going to let this landlubber outgame + you? He has bid a million and three-quarters. Think of the present high + freight rates and speak up, or remain forever silent.” + </p> + <p> + The bidding had so suddenly and by such prodigious bounds reached the + elimination point that every piker present was afraid to open his mouth in + the presence of these plungers. Matt Peasley licked his lips and glanced + round rather helplessly. He knew he had about reached the limit of his + bidding, but he suspected that Mann had reached his also. + </p> + <p> + “And ten thousand!” he shouted desperately. + </p> + <p> + “Cheap stuff! Cheap stuff!” the crowd jeered good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks nudged J. Augustus Redell as Mann waved his hand in token of + surrender. “One million seven hundred and sixty thousand I am offered,” + the auctioneer intoned. “Any further bids?” He waited a full minute; then + resorted to three minutes of cajolery, but in vain. There were no more + bids. + </p> + <p> + Jim Searles raised his hammer. + </p> + <p> + “Going—once!” he called—and waited. “Going—twice!” + Another pause. “Going—” + </p> + <p> + “Two million dollars!” cried J. Augustus Redell; and a sigh went up from + the excited onlookers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mr. Redell is a sport, after all! Two million, flat!” Searles looked + down on Matt Peasley. “Die, dog, or eat the meat ax!” he warned the + unhappy young man. + </p> + <p> + “Let him have her,” Matt growled; and, very red of face, he commenced to + shoulder his way through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Beat it, Cappy; he's coming!” Redell warned the president emeritus. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks, dodging round the flank of the crowd, fled through the side + entrance of the Merchants' Exchange; and he was tranquilly smoking a cigar + in his private office when Matt Peasley dropped in on him an hour later. + Cappy eyed him coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Is Skinner back from luncheon?” he demanded. Matt nodded. “Tell him to + come in here. I want to see him,” Cappy continued ominously. “And you + might stick round yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “Two million dollars'” cried J Augustus Redell.} + </p> + <p> + “Close the door,” Cappy commanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner looked a little startled and surprised, but promptly closed + the door. + </p> + <p> + “You wanted to see me, Mr. Ricks?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks edged forward until he was seated on the extreme edge of his + chair. Then he rested a hand on each knee, bent his head, and glared at + the unhappy Skinner over the rims of his glasses. After thirty seconds of + this scrutiny he turned to his son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I hear you've been attending an auction sale and making + a star-spangled monkey of yourself bidding a million seven hundred and + sixty thousand dollars on that Mexican steamer. Matt, have you taken leave + of your senses?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—not quite; but Gus Redell has. He bought her in for two + million dollars. Of course he was acting for somebody else, because every + cent he has is working overtime in the West Coast Trading Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Cappy murmured. “Then you didn't get her, after all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir! So perhaps you'd better not holler until you're hit.” Matt + sighed. “By Neptune,” he declared, “I'd give a cooky to know the name of + the crazy man who paid two million dollars for that steamer!” + </p> + <p> + “Behold the lunatic, Matt! Grandpa Ricks, in his second childhood! Gus + Redell was bidding for me, sonny.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley sat down rather limply and stared at the president emeritus. + </p> + <p> + “Cappy,” he said presently, “you sent a boy to do a man's work. I had the + boat bought for a million seven hundred and sixty thousand! For heaven's + sake, why didn't you tell me you wanted her? And I would have laid off. + For the love of heaven, why did you go bidding against me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me you wanted her, you big simp?” Cappy retorted. + “You never said a word to me; and naturally Redell thought you were acting + for somebody else. He had orders from me to get her and damn the cost—and + he fulfilled his orders.” + </p> + <p> + “A comedy of errors, truly!” Mr. Skinner observed witheringly. + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley raised his huge arms and clenched his great fists in agony. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cappy! Cappy!” he pleaded. “Won't you please retire? You're just + raising hell with the organization!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Matt; I'll retire. But, before I do, I'm going to give Skinner + a piece of my mind. Skinner, what the devil do you mean by going up to the + Marine National Bank and borrowing a million dollars on the credit of the + Ricks Lumber Company? I admit I have given you entire charge of the lumber + end, and you were quite within your rights when you negotiated the loan + and signed the note as president; but how did it happen that you didn't + consult with the old man, if only as a matter of common courtesy?” + </p> + <p> + “I-I-that is, I-well, I didn't mean to be discourteous, Mr. Ricks. Oh, I + wouldn't have you think, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “No; you'd have me be a dummy if you could. Why, you almost put the skids + under me; because, when I went up to the Marine National to make a little + personal loan in a spirit of preparedness, I discovered that the loan you + had been given on my assets had jazzed my personal credit all to glory! I + used to be able to borrow a million dollars on my bare note; but I'll be + shot if they didn't make me dig up a lot of collateral this time! Skinner, + I wouldn't have thought that of you. After trusting you as I have done for + a quarter of a century, to find you giving me the double-cross just about + breaks my heart. Great Godfrey, Skinner, how could you be so false to me? + I expect that sort of thing from Matt—those one loves the best + always swat one; but from you—Skinner, I don't know what prevents me + from demanding your resignation here and now, unless it be because of your + previous splendid character and loyal service.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ricks, Mr. Ricks!” Poor Skinner held up his hands appealingly and + commenced to weep. “Please do not think ill of me. I swear—” + </p> + <p> + “You loaned the Ricks Lumber Logging Company's million dollars to Matt + Peasley to help buy that steamer for the Blue Star Navigation Company; and + he, the son of a pirate, went to work and borrowed it from you, well + knowing he had no business to do so. What are you paying the Marine + National for that money?” + </p> + <p> + “Five per cent,” Skinner sniffled, for his heart was broken. + </p> + <p> + “What are you soaking the Blue Star Navigation Company for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Six,” Skinner confessed miserably. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, Skinner, my boy. Cheer up! I forgive you. That little + profit of one per cent saves your bacon, boy. I guess there's some good + left in you still; and I'm happy to have this evidence that, though I own + both companies, you have not forgotten you are responsible for the + profit-and-loss account of one of them, and Matt Peasley for the other. + You did quite right to claim that one per cent jerk from Matt. Business is + business!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you bet it is!” Matt Peasley struck in. “And I want you to lay off + on Skinner, because what he did was done in fear and trembling, and under + duress. We were both afraid you'd block the purchase; so we agreed to keep + our plans secret from you, because—Well, somehow I did want that + bully big boat the very worst way.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's exactly the way you set about getting her, Matthew. However, + you're young—you don't know any better; so I forgive you. Of course + I realized you wanted, that steamer, boy. I knew your heart was set on + seeing our house flag floating from her mainstruck; so I—Well, I + just thought I'd get her for you, to sort of square myself for those two + bonehead plays I pulled earlier in the year.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you shouldn't have paid two millions for her, Cappy! Business is + one thing and sentiment is another.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I didn't pay any such price for her! Originally I bought her, as a + German, for three hundred thousand dollars; in addition to that I've spent + about ten thousand dollars improving her, and maybe five thousand more + fussing up the trail of my operations so no smart secret-service operative + could come round and hang something on me.” He reached into his coat + pocket and drew forth the United States Marshal's bill of sale. “Here, + sonny,” he announced, “is your Uncle Sam's certificate of title. Hustle up + to the customhouse and get it recorded; then make out a bill of sale for a + one-third interest to the West Coast Trading Company and record that also. + Then change her name to <i>Alden M. Peasley</i>, in honor of your + first-born, and put her under these two flags.” + </p> + <p> + He jerked open a drawer in the desk and brought forth a bright new edition + of Old Glory, followed by the familiar white muslin burgee with the blue + star. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “The United States Marshal has paid all the debts of the <i>Alden M. + Peasley</i>, and this afternoon he'll send his check for the proceeds of + the sale still remaining in his hands to my lawyer, who holds a most + ungodly power of attorney from that dummy Guaymas corporation Live Wire + Luiz organized to buy the ship for us. Our attorney will cash that check + and send the cash down to you. Please bank it to my credit and take up + that note I gave the Marine National; then get the securities I hocked and + tuck them back in my safe-deposit vault. As for the interest at five per + cent, which the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company will have to pay on + that million you borrowed to help Matt Peasley hornswoggle father, you + just charge that to your personal account as a penance for your sins. As + for the six per cent you pay the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company for + the money loaned your Blue Star Navigation Company, Matt Peasley, just + charge that to your personal account as a penance for your sins.” + </p> + <p> + Both culprits nodded dazedly. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” Cappy continued, “I'll tell you something else: The <i>Alden M. + Peasley</i> belongs to the West Coast Trading Company and Alden P. Ricks; + they own one-third for bringing the deal to my attention and furnishing + some labor, and I own two-thirds, or the lion's share, for doing a lion's + work—to wit, putting up the cash and promoting the deal to a clean + title. Consequently, though you two boys own a nice little block of stock + in the Blue Star Navigation Company, you don't own a red cent in the <i>Alden + M. Peasley</i>, because she doesn't belong to the Blue Star Navigation + Company, but to the president emeritus thereof. However, as I am about to + retire for keeps this time, I'll tell you what I purpose doing with my + two-thirds of the <i>Alden M. Peasley</i>: Skinner, my dear boy, I kidded + you into tears. Bless you, boy, it broke your heart when you thought your + old boss figured you'd quit being Faithful Fido, didn't it? Skinner, + loyalty like yours is very, very precious; and your affection is—er—Skinner, + you human icicle, you can't bluff me! I'm on to you, young feller! Matt, + you prepare a deed of gift for one-half of my two-thirds interest to + Skinner, and take the other half for yourself; and when the <i>Alden M. + Peasley</i> has earned what I put into her, credit my account with it. + After that, you and Skinner and Gus Redell and Live Wire Luiz can collect + the dividends.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ricks! This is too much,” Skinner began. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut, sir! Not a peep out of you, sir! How dare you argue with me? + Now just one word more before you fellers go: The next time you boys go + bidding on a ship at auction, take a leaf out of Cappy Ricks' book and bid + against yourself! You can always scare the other fellows off that way; the + sky is the limit—and you're bound to get your money back. So you + should <i>Ish ka bibble</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Now you two young freshies go back to your desks and try to learn + humility. Thus endeth the first lesson, my children.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley came close to Cappy and put his big arm round the little old + man. + </p> + <p> + “Cappy,” he whispered, “please don't retire!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, son,” Cappy answered; “but get that infernal cry-baby, + Skinner, out of my office. He's breaking my heart.” + </p> + <p> + If J. Augustus Redell had been content to sue for peace following his deal + with Cappy in Australian wheat, all would have been well for that young + man. Alas! As we have already stated, he was young—and there is an + old saying to the effect that youth must be served. J. Augustus Redell, + like Oliver Twist, desired more. His triumph over Cappy in the wheat deal + merely whetted his desire for more of the Ricks blood, and in the end the + ingenious rascal evolved a plan for making Cappy the laughing stock of the + Bilgewater Club for a month of Sundays. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX + </h2> + <h3> + MONSIEUR LE CAPITAINE RICKS + </h3> + <p> + Cappy Ricks entered his office at the unheard-of hour of eight-thirty. On + his way to his sanctum at the end of the long suite of offices Cappy + paused in the lair of Mr. Skinner, who looked up, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he saluted the president emeritus. “What brings you down on the + job so early this morning, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a hen on,” Cappy replied briskly. He glanced at Skinner and + rubbed his hands together. “Skinner, my dear boy,” he continued, “this is + a one-horse concern.” + </p> + <p> + “Three sawmills with a combined output of a million feet a day on a + ten-hour shift—not to mention a billion feet of stumpage—isn't + my idea of a one-horse concern,” Mr. Skinner retorted with some asperity. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut, Skinner! I'm not referring to the lumber end at all; so don't + get touchy. I'm referring to the Blue Star Navigation Company. It's a + dinky proposition. + </p> + <p> + “Forty-two vessels—windjammers, steam schooners and foreign-going + freighters—” began Mr. Skinner; but Cappy cut him short: + </p> + <p> + “Foreign-going grandmothers! We've got the <i>Narcissus</i> and the <i>Tillicum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “How about my boat—the <i>John P. Skinner?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! That one we scraped up off the bottom of Papeete Harbor,” Cappy + answered maliciously. “Well, that makes three; and really the <i>Skinner</i> + and the <i>Narcissus</i> are the only vessels built to go foreign. + Remember, Skinner, we built the <i>Tillicum</i>, for the coast-wise lumber + trade, even though she's so big our competitors thought when we launched + her we were crazy to build such a whale for that trade.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to have more big bottoms, Skinner. We'll have hell-cracking + freight rates during the war and for a long time thereafter—and here + we sit round like a lot of dubs, too conservative to help ourselves to the + gravy. Why, you and Matt Peasley ought to be knitting socks in an old + ladies' home, for all the progressiveness you're displaying.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in charge of the shipping end, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but you've got a tongue in your head, haven't you? You were + practically in charge of the Blue Star for more than six months—during + the entire period Matt was at sea in the <i>Retriever</i> and we thought + he was a goner. Why, dog-gone you, Skinner, even when you thought Matt was + dead you didn't suggest increasing the fleet. I'm surprised, Skinner, my + boy, that in my old age, after gathering a lot of young fellows round me + to carry on the business, I've still got to be the bell mare!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner had nothing to say to this; if he had it is doubtful whether + he would have said it, for he had been too long with Cappy Ricks not to + know the signs when the old gentleman took the bit in his teeth and + declared for a new deal. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going into my office to do some tall thinking, Skinner,” Cappy + continued. “Remember! No visitors until I've threshed this whole business + out to my satisfaction. I'm not in to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy retired to his office, sat down on his spine in his upholstered + swivel chair, swung his thin old shanks to the top of his desk, bowed his + head on his breast, and closed his eyes. Scarcely had he done so when the + door opened and Matt Peasley thrust his head in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Matt?” Cappy queried without opening his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I have an offer of forty thousand dollars for our old bark <i>Altair</i>, + Cappy. What do you think we ought to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it!” Cappy shrilled. “You jibbering jackdaw! Grab it! She's been a + failure since the day I built her; never balanced, always burying her nose + in the seas, and drowning a sailor about once a year. If we keep that ship + much longer she'll sail herself under some day and we'll be out the forty + thousand. <i>Altair!</i> Fancy name! Skinner got it out of Ben Hur. He'd + been in the shipping game ten years then and hadn't learned that was the + name of a star! We should have called her the <i>Water Spaniel</i>. Sell + her, Matt, and we'll put the money into a steamer that can run foreign.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can tell me where we can buy, even at three times her intrinsic + value, a steamer that will run foreign, I'm willing to consider selling + the <i>Altair</i>. Just at present she's earning big dividends; and until + we can find a place to invest her selling price, the money will earn six + per cent instead of sixty, as at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Clear out and let me think!” Cappy commanded, and Matt Peasley retired to + Mr. Skinner's office. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed the old gentleman lately?” he inquired of Skinner. “Ever + since his grandson arrived grandpa has been paying attention to business.” + </p> + <p> + “He's dissatisfied with his own and our efforts thus far. He thinks he's + been a piker and that you and I are his first-assistant pikers. He has + ships on the brain.” + </p> + <p> + “He's getting pretty cocky,” Matt agreed; “but, at that, I guess he has a + license to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been with him twenty-six—yes, twenty-seven—years; and I + know him, Matt. He's cooking up something prodigious—and it will + soon be done.” + </p> + <p> + The door of Cappy's office opened and Cappy stood in the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” he ordered, “get me a letter of credit for about twenty + thousand dollars. I'm going travelling.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” Matt and Skinner queried in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “To Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not!” Matt Peasley declared. “You're liable to be torpedoed en + route.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but then, too, I'm liable not to be; and if I am, why, I'm an old + man, and I'll only be cheating the devil by a few years or a few months. + Come in here, you two dead ones.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him into his office. + </p> + <p> + “We need some steamers,” Cappy announced. “Every shipyard in the United + States that could build the kind of steamer we want is full up with + contracts for the next three years; so I'm going to Norway or Sweden or + Denmark, or some non-belligerent European country, and see whether I can't + place some contracts there for a couple of real freighters. Then, too, I + may be able to pick up good vessels over there at a reasonable price. + Under the Emergency Shipping Act we can get them provisional American + registry—and that's all we need. Before a great while Uncle Sam is + going to turn his antiquated shipping laws inside out, and any + foreign-built boats we may acquire now will be given the right to run in + the coastwise trade also.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Cappy,” Matt reminded the old man; “you're retired and I'm in + charge of the destinies of the Blue Star Navigation Company. I don't want + you working yourself to death.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you don't want me butting in. Nonsense! What's the use of having + a grandson if a fellow doesn't hustle up something for the boy to sharpen + his teeth on when he grows up? Here I've been living from day to day, just + marking time on the road to eternity and figuring life wasn't worth while + because the stock was going to die out with me. Up until recently I was + content with a little old one-horse business; but now, by the Holy + Pink-Toed Prophet, boy, we've got to get out and shake a leg! Freighters! + That's what we want. Big, well-decked tramps, flying the Stars and Stripes + in every port on earth. Why, what kind of a nation are we getting to be, + anyway? We're a passel of mollycoddles, asleep on the job. We haven't half + enough ships to coal our navy. In the event of war it would take us a week + to dig up ships enough to transport the New York Police Department. I tell + you, Matt, when I'm gone you'll have to have something for that grandson + of mine to do or he'll grow up into one of these idle-rich, ne'er-do-well, + two-for-a-quarter dudes. You bet I've been doing a deal of thinking + lately. We can't send that boy to college, and spoil him before he's + twenty-five. We'll run that young man through high school; just about that + time he'll begin to get snobbish and we'll take that out of him by sending + him to sea as a cadet on one of our own ships. We'll teach him democracy—that's + what we'll teach him. When he's twenty-one he'll be a skipper like his + forebears and you'll be only about forty-six. Good Lord! To think of you + two young fellows running my Blue Star ships—and not enough ships to + keep you busy! Preposterous! I can't consider—Well, Hankins, my dear + boy, what's troubling you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hankins, the secretary, had entered. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to see Mr. Skinner a moment. I'll wait. Didn't know you were + busy.” + </p> + <p> + And he started to retire. Cappy checked him: “Finish with Skinner, + Hankins. He'll be in consultation here with Matt and me for an hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I just wanted to know, Mr. Skinner, whether all those cablegrams to + Captain Landry, of the <i>Altair</i>, are to be charged to general + expense, Captain Landry's personal account, or to the <i>Altair</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me you should charge them to Captain Landry, Hankins,” Mr. + Skinner spoke up. “It isn't ship's business and it isn't Blue Star + business. If he wants this office to cable him every day about his family—” + </p> + <p> + “Here! What's this you're talking about, Skinner?” Cappy interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “When Captain Landry sailed for Callao his wife didn't accompany him—” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky rascal! He told me he was expecting an heir.” + </p> + <p> + “And he's still expecting that heir.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Mr. Hankins explained, “he's been anxious for news; and ever + since his arrival in Callao he's cabled us every other day—latterly + every day—asking whether the baby has been born, and whether it's a + boy or a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “A very pardonable human curiosity, my boy. Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately the baby appears to be held up on demurrage and I think + we've spent at least fifty dollars cabling to Landry that the youngster + has failed to report. I imagine the skipper has spent twice that sum + inquiring for news—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! It's his first baby, isn't it? You must allow for human + nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought we would—for the first half dozen cablegrams; but after + it became a habit it appeared that Landry ought to pay for his fancies.” + </p> + <p> + “He should,” Mr. Skinner declared firmly. “Charge the cablegrams to + Landry.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing!” piped Cappy. “Charge 'em to general expense. Dang you, + Skinner, I despair of ever breaking you of that habit of operating on the + cheap!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, sir—only the expense is getting to be quite an + item.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm just about to send him another cablegram,” Mr. Hankins declared + fretfully. “The <i>Altair</i> is due to sail from Callao and the baby is + still unborn; it will be two months old, at least, before the skipper gets + any further news.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's see your cablegram,” Cappy ordered, and Mr. Hankins passed it over. + Cappy read it. “Holy suffering sailor!” he cried. “Why this concern isn't + in the hands of a receiver is a mystery to me.” He looked up at Mr. + Hankins with blood in his eye. “Here you are, Hankins, trying to saddle a + bill of expense on a poor, heartbroken, anxious, embryo parent-to-be. + Knowing full well that he only makes a hundred and fifty dollars a month, + you admit to an endeavor to stick him for fifty dollars' worth of + cablegrams from this end, not to mention those from his end. If you had + spent your time, sir, figuring out a way to cut down that cable expense, + instead of discovering a rotten way to get rid of it—Why, look here! + You can use your code book and save a couple of dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Code book!” Mr. Hankins protested indignantly. “Why, who ever heard of a + code book for cabling on baby business?” + </p> + <p> + “Use your shipping code. Here; hand me that code book. There's bound to be + something to fit the occasion—there always is. Hum-m-m! Ahem! + Harumph-h-h! Let us see what we shall see under the head of cargoes; + Loading! Discharging! Demurrage! Ahem! That won't do. He'd be liable to + confuse it with the ship's business. Harumph-h-h! Arrivals. Now we have + it. Landry has been asking of an expected arrival, hasn't he?” Cappy ran + his index finger down the page. “Here you are, Hankins. Hum-m-m! Afilamos—meaning + no new arrivals. Naturally Landry will say to himself: 'Well, for heaven's + sake, when will that child arrive?' We should enlighten him on that + point.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Say so. Here you are. Affumicata—meaning: We + cannot guarantee time of arrival. Hankins, have you talked with Mrs. + Landry's physician in order to get the latest ringside reports?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he says he thinks it will be twins, in a couple of days at the + most.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! Here you are. Afilaba—meaning: Heavy arrivals expected + shortly. Now then, Hankins, he'll want some news of his wife, won't he? + How about her?” + </p> + <p> + “She went to the hospital this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy closed his eyes and pondered; then once more took up the code book. + Followed a silence. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Bully! He'll understand perfectly, being a sailor. Desdoble—meaning: + Is now in dry dock. And, of course, Landry will want to know whether his + wife is in any danger. Danger! Danger! Ships are sometimes in danger. + When? When they're wrecked, of course. Let us look under the head of + wrecks... No; nothing seems to fill the bill. Wreck, wrecked, worse, writ, + write, wrong—ah, I have it! Wohlgemuth—meaning: There is + nothing wrong.” He looked up at Mr. Hankins. “Now there's the kind of + cablegram to send—even on baby business. Those four code words + translated mean: No new arrivals; heavy arrivals expected shortly; is now + in dry dock; there is nothing wrong. Literally translated it means: Baby + not born yet; twins expected shortly; your wife now in hospital; + everything lovely! I suppose, Hankins, you have carbon copies of all these + cablegrams you've been sending?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Code them all, so far as possible, and ascertain how much money you might + have saved the Blue Star by the exercise of a little common sense; then + charge the cablegrams, on the coded basis, to our general expense, and + charge to your personal account the sum you might have saved by the + exercise of the ingenuity and efficiency I have a right to expect of a man + who draws down as fat a salary as you do.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Hankins withdrew, greatly crestfallen, and the despot of the Blue Star + office turned to his trusted lieutenants. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he declared, “one after the other you have to come to the old man + to be shown. I guess I've proved to you two boys this morning that I'm to + be trusted with buying a few ships and letting contracts for a few more, + haven't I?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like the idea of Cappy Ricks on a steamer that's likely to be + torpedoed. I don't want you to go to Europe alone—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going alone. Captain Mike Murphy, our new port captain, is going + with me. I wouldn't think of buying a steamer unless that splendid fellow + O.K.'d the hull. And Terry Reardon, our new port engineer, will accompany + me also. Terry has to O.K. the engines. Between the three of us, it's + going to take a smart trader to sell us any junk, I'm telling you!” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to go with you,” Matt suggested. + </p> + <p> + “You have your work at home, attending to the fleet. It isn't much of a + fleet, I'll admit; but such as it is it requires some attention. I'll be + the chief scout of this organization and see whether I can't rustle up + some major-league vessels from some of those bush-league European owners.” + </p> + <p> + “I've had a fine time getting good men to take their places in the <i>Narcissus</i> + since you promoted Mike and Terry in my absence!” Matt complained. “Mike + and Terry know her well—and she's such a big brute to handle.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the <i>Narcissus</i>, by the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Loading nitrate at Tocopilla and Antofagasta, Chile. This is her last + voyage under the old charter.” + </p> + <p> + “Got any new business in sight for her?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't have the slightest difficulty getting another nitrate charter and + at a rate double what she's been getting.” + </p> + <p> + “Every vessel taken off the nitrate run stiffens the freight rate in these + days, when they have to have so much nitrate in the manufacture of war + munitions,” the astute Cappy declared. “If I were you, Matt, I'd find her + a good outside cargo or two, and then slip her back in the nitrate + business again. Freights may have advanced in the interim.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a mighty profitable cargo offered me this morning, Cappy. An agent + of the British Government called on me and offered a whopping price for + carrying a cargo of mules and horses from Galveston to Havre. I think I + shall turn the proposition down. It's too dangerous, Cappy.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean we might have our ship blown up by a German submarine?” + </p> + <p> + Matt nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'd collect our freight in advance, wouldn't we? And the British + Government will guarantee to reimburse us if the ship is lost, will it + not? Well, then, where's the risk?” + </p> + <p> + “There's the danger to the crew.” + </p> + <p> + “Any man that goes to sea knows he has to take a chance. Bet you Mike + Murphy could take that cargo of livestock across and bring another cargo + back. He's luckier than a cross-eyed coon. And another thing, Matt: If you + accept that business we can kill two birds with one stone—yes, three—because + Mike and Terry and I will cross over on the <i>Narcissus</i> and save the + price of transportation from here to New York, and from New York to + Liverpool. Then, while the <i>Narcissus</i> is discharging and taking on + another cargo, we'll go scouting for available steamers.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be done, though I hate to think of it Cappy. If we lose the + vessel they'll pay us a million and a half for her, of course—and + she cost us less than three hundred thousand a year ago. And, as you say, + we'll collect the freight in advance. They're very anxious to get the <i>Narcissus</i>. + She's a whopping big boat, and that's the kind of a vessel they need for a + horse transport.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and, by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, it will be a bully vacation, and + a bully vacation is something I haven't had since the night of the big + wind in Ireland. Moreover, I combine business with pleasure, which is + always desirable; and, if that isn't excuse enough, I want to tell you + it's cheaper to travel dead-head on our own boats than to pay for three + round-trip tickets to Europe on a Cunard liner.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose a German submarine—” + </p> + <p> + “Matt, all my life I've played a quiet, safe, sane, conservative game. + I've always longed for adventure and never had it. Why, just consider a + moment what a tiresome thing life would be were it not for the prospect of + death at any moment! That's all that keeps us hustling, my boy—trying + to put over a winning run before the game is called on account of + darkness. Hell's bells! Don't try to scare me with a sheet and the rattle + of old bones. Suppose they do blow us up? We don't lose a dollar; in fact, + we make money—and we can take to the boats, can't we?” + </p> + <p> + “They only give you fifteen minutes—” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have the boats swung overside, provisioned and ready, two days + ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “But they don't care how far out to sea they leave you. I spent two weeks + in an open boat once and I know you can't stand two days. The exposure—” + </p> + <p> + “When we get down to Galveston,” Cappy interrupted triumphantly, “I'll + have Mike Murphy buy a nice, staunch little secondhand motor cruiser, + thirty-eight or forty feet long, with plenty of power and comfortable + living accommodations for half a dozen people. Mike will arrange for extra + oil and gasoline tankage, and we'll swing this cruiser in on the main deck + and let it rest there in a cradle, with the slings round it, ready to lift + overside with the cargo derricks at a minute's notice. I'll be as snug in + that little cruiser as a bug under a chip—and we'll tow the + lifeboats. So that settles it—and if it doesn't I'd like to know + who's the boss of this shebang, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner glanced covertly at Captain Matt Peasley and shook his head + almost imperceptibly, as who should say: “Better give in to him, Matt. I + know him longer than you do; he'll have his way if it kills him.” And Matt + took the hint, with the result that some six weeks later Cappy Ricks, + accompanied by his faithful port captain and his equally faithful port + engineer, cleared for Galveston aboard the Sunset Limited. And at + Galveston began the only real vacation Cappy Ricks had ever had. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI + </h2> + <p> + To begin, there was the task of superintending the installation of the + accommodations for the cargo of mules and horses. Cappy was particularly + interested in the ventilating system below decks, for he was fond of + horses and had resolved to deliver the cargo without the loss of a single + animal. Of no mediocre turn of mind mechanically, he, assisted by Terry + Reardon, made a few suggestions that the British veterinaries in charge + were very glad to accept. + </p> + <p> + The real enjoyment of the trip, however, Cappy found down at the breaking + corrals where the horses were detraining. They were all young and full of + life, and fully ninety per cent of them had only been halter-broken. In + the lot was many an outlaw whose ancestors had run wild for generations in + Nevada; and as the delivery contract specified that a horse to be accepted + must be broken—God save the mark!—as Terence Reardon remarked + after seeing one passed as broken, following five minutes of furious + pitching and squealing—Cappy Ricks was one of the first at the + corral and the last to leave. Perched on the topmost, rail, he piped + encouragement to the lank, flat-bellied border busters who, a dozen times + a day, risked life and limb at five dollars a bust. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy and Terence Reardon, who had ridden more than one China Sea + typhoon and West India hurricane, marvelled that men should take such + risks for any amount of money. Privately they considered Cappy Ricks an + accessory before the fact, inasmuch as Cappy hung up at least five hundred + dollars in small prizes for the vaqueros. Whenever they had a “bad one” + they could always induce Cappy to offer ten dollars for staying two + minutes and five dollars a minute for each minute over the limit—which + seldom reached two minutes. Also, Cappy was willing to furnish two silver + dollars whenever some adventurer thought he could put a dollar between + each leg and the saddle and have the dollars there when the horse + surrendered. They ran in a couple of trained buckers on Cappy and depleted + his bank roll considerably before he began to smell a rat. + </p> + <p> + To these plainsmen, charged with the destinies of the mounts for the young + British soldier, Cappy Ricks was known familiarly as Cap. Before the last + of the horses had been passed as broken and hustled aboard the big <i>Narcissus</i>, + Cappy knew each horse wrangler by his first name or nickname, and had + learned the intricacies of many hitherto unheard-of games of chance that + flourish along the Rio Grande. He was an expert at cooncan, and Pangingi + fascinated him; then they taught him Mexican monte, and one worthless + individual stole an ace out of the deck, whereupon all hands had a joyous + hack at Cappy, who, when informed privately by his friend, Sam Daniels, + foreman of the outfit, that he was in bad company and being skinned alive, + went uptown and bought some specially constructed dice, which he + introduced brazenly into a crap game, thereby more than catching even. He + was the last man in the world a gang of wicked cowboys would suspect of + guile; all of them, quite foolishly, thought he had more money than + brains. + </p> + <p> + Eventually, however, the <i>Narcissus</i> was loaded, Cappy moved into the + owner's suite, and his new-found friends bunked in a temporary deck house + forward when they weren't busy below decks playing chambermaid to the + cargo. And with Cappy's motor cruiser swung in the cradle, ready for + launching from the main deck aft, the <i>Narcissus</i> slipped out of + Galveston and went snoring across the Gulf of Mexico, bound for Le Havre. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy was not happy, however. He resented Cappy Ricks, who would + persist in going below to inspect the cargo and in consequence smelled + like a hostler. Moreover, Michael was the port captain of the Blue Star + Navigation Company now and not the master of the ship; and the <i>Narcissus</i> + wasn't out of sight of land before Mike made the discovery that the + boatswain of the ship was absolutely inefficient, that the cook was + wasteful, that the first officer was too talkative, and the skipper too + easy-going. + </p> + <p> + And these conditions, on a ship he had once commanded, irked Murphy + exceedingly. Terence Reardon was in much the same state of mind. Being + port engineer, he investigated the engine room and found that his favorite + monkey wrench had been lost; there were two leaky tubes in the main + boiler; the ash hoist was out of kilter; his successor in the <i>Narcissus</i> + was carrying ten pounds of steam less than Terence used to carry; and + there was something not quite right with the condenser. The engine room + crew Terence characterized to Mike Murphy as a gang of “vagabones,” and + hinted darkly at sweeping changes when the ship should get back to the + United States. Once he went so far as to state that he might have expected + as much when, upon leaving the <i>Narcissus</i> to become port engineer, + he had given her to his old first assistant; since he had never known a + first assistant, barring himself, to make a good chief! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII + </h2> + <p> + On the very day the <i>Narcissus</i> left Galveston the German submersible + V-l4 left her base at Zeebrugge, with oil and torpedoes sufficient to last + her on an ordinary three weeks' cruise, and promptly headed for that + section of the Atlantic where information and belief told her commander + the hunting would be good. And it was—so good, in fact, that to the + very great disgust of her crew she had just two torpedoes in stock when + the man on watch at her periscope reported a large freight steamer to the + west. Promptly the V-l4 submerged and proceeded on a course calculated to + intercept the freighter, which presently was discovered to be the U.S.S. + <i>Narcissus</i>. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the V-l4 almost licked his chops. He had heard of the <i>Narcissus</i>. + The neutrality laws of the United States had prevented him from hearing of + her by wireless when she cleared from Galveston, but he had been on the + lookout for her, just the same, ever since a Dutch steamer from New York, + with an alert German chief mate, had touched at Copenhagen, from which + point the dispatches that mate carried had gone underground straight to + the office of the German Admiralty. The information anent the <i>Narcissus</i> + had been brief but illuminating: She had been chartered to carry horses + for the British Government from Galveston to Le Havre, and the word to get + her at all hazards had been passed to the submarine flotilla. + </p> + <p> + Captain Emil Bechtel, of the V-l4, did not possess an Iron Cross of any + nature whatsoever, and as he studied the oncoming <i>Narcissus</i> through + the periscope he reflected that this big brute of a boat would bring him + one, provided he was lucky. He remembered he had but two torpedoes left, + and under the circumstances he paused to consider. + </p> + <p> + Clearly—since the <i>Narcissus</i> was laden with horses and mules + for the enemy she was carrying contraband—she must not escape. On + the other hand, there had been a deal of unpleasantness of late because + President Wilson had been protesting the sinking of vessels without + warning—and the <i>Narcissus</i> was a United States steamer. + Consequently if he torpedoed her without warning the temperamental Kaiser + might make of Captain Emil Bechtel what is colloquially known as the goat; + whereas, on the other hand, should he conform to international law and + place her crew in safety before sinking her, there was a chance that her + wireless might summon a patrol boat to the vicinity—Bechtel had + sighted one less than an hour before—and patrol boats had a + miserable habit, when they sighted a periscope, of shooting it to pieces. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, it was just possible that the perfidious English had mounted a + couple of six-inch guns on her after getting to sea—and the German + knew a six-inch shell, well-placed, would send his vessel to the bottom. + Moreover, it was sunset; in half an hour it would be twilight; he had no + knowledge of the speed of the <i>Narcissus</i> and she might try to make a + run for it, thus forcing him to come to the surface and shell her should + he miss with his torpedoes. Further, if he attacked her and she escaped, + there was an elderly gentleman with whiskers back in Berlin who would do + things to him if the Kaiser didn't. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, one course open to the German. To his way of thinking, + during the exciting diplomatic tangle with the United States, he would be + damned if he did and damned if he didn't; but if he did, and nobody could + prove it, old Von Tirpitz would ask no questions. + </p> + <p> + “I'll let her have it,” Captain Emil Bechtel concluded; and he passed the + word to get ready. + </p> + <p> + A minute later Cappy Ricks, smoking his after-dinner cigar on the bridge + of the Narcissus with her skipper and Mike Murphy, pointed far off the + port bow. + </p> + <p> + “There's a shark or a swordfish, or something, breaching,” he said. “I can + see his wake.” + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy took a casual glance in the direction Cappy was pointing, + while the master of the <i>Narcissus</i> reached for his marine glasses + and lazily put them to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Shark be damned!” yelled Murphy. “It's a torpedo or I'm a Chinaman! + Hard-a-starboard!” + </p> + <p> + He leaped for the engine-room telegraph and jammed it over to Full Speed + Astern; then dashed into the pilot house and commenced a furious ringing + of the ship's bell, summoning the crew to boat drill, the while his + anxious eye marked the swift progress of the white streak coming toward + them. What wind there was happened fortunately to be on the vessel's port + counter, and as the helmsman spun the wheel the big vessel fell off + quickly and easily, while the rumble of her shaft, suddenly reversed, + fairly shook the ship. To Cappy Ricks it seemed that the vessel must be + brought up standing, like one of the broncos he had seen ridden with a + Spanish bit; but a big ship under full headway is not stopped very + abruptly, and the <i>Narcissus</i> swept on, turning as she went in order + to offer as little target as possible to the torpedo. + </p> + <p> + “Will we make it, Mike?” Cappy Ricks queried in a very small, awed voice. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy turned and found his owner at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it hits her forward,” he replied. “That motor cruiser is cradled + aft and we might save it. They never hailed us—ah-h-h, missed!” + </p> + <p> + The torpedo flew by, missing the big blunt bow by less than three feet. + </p> + <p> + “I guess they'll get us just the same,” Mike Murphy murmured quietly; “but + we're going down fighting.” + </p> + <p> + And, disregarding the master of the <i>Narcissus</i>, who was staring + vacantly after the flying torpedo, he rang for Full Speed Ahead, and + called down the speaking tube to the chief to hook her on for all he had; + then, with his helm still hard-a-starboard, he swung the ship in as small + a circle as possible and headed her at full speed back over the course so + recently traveled by the torpedo. + </p> + <p> + “That was a beautifully timed shot—that last one,” he informed Cappy + Ricks admiringly. “If we'd sighted it thirty seconds later—” + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil are you going, man?” Cappy yelled frantically. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to give that fellow a surprise,” Murphy growled. “He expected + us to run for it after that first one missed—and I'm running for + him! He may not get me with the next one if I come bows on—and I + might ram him! I'll take a chance. Keep your eyes open for his periscope.” + </p> + <p> + Aboard the V-l4 Captain Emil Bechtel said nothing, but thought a great + deal—when he saw that his first torpedo had missed its prey. He was + in for it now; he had started something and he had to go through. And, + anticipating that the <i>Narcissus</i> would show him her heels and steer + a zigzag course, he immediately launched his last torpedo as the horse + transport lay quartering to him. + </p> + <p> + To his disgust, however, the steamer, having avoided the first torpedo, + did not run as he had anticipated. Instead, she continued to turn round on + her heels, each revolution of her wheel lifting her out of the course of + the second torpedo, since the submarine had fired slightly ahead of the + vessel, knowing that if she continued for two minutes on the course he + expected her to take she would steam fairly across the path of the huge + missile. So he missed again—the torpedo slid under her stern—and + here was that demon horse transport bearing down on him at full speed and + with a bone in her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “The jig is up,” murmured Bechtel, and gave the order to submerge deeper, + for he would not risk showing his periscope to the keen eyes on that + bridge. + </p> + <p> + For ten minutes he waited, while the submarine scuttled blindly out of the + path of the onrushing transport; then, concluding that the <i>Narcissus</i> + had passed him, he came up and took a look round. He was right. A cable + length astern and another off his port quarter the steamer was plunging + over the darkening sea, and Captain Emil Bechtel knew he had her now; so + promptly he came to the surface. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy, glancing off his starboard quarter, saw her periscope come + swiftly up; then her turret showed; then her turtle deck flashed for a + moment on the surface, like a giant fish, before she rose higher and the + water cascaded down her sides. + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks' anxious face turned a delicate green; he glanced up at his + bully port captain as if in that rugged personality alone could he hope + for salvation. Murphy caught the glance, shook his head, walked over to + the engine-room telegraph and set the handle over to stop. + </p> + <p> + “No use, sir,” he informed Cappy. “That Dutchman is out of torpedoes, so + he's coming up to shell us. We'll heave to and save funeral expenses.” He + turned to the master of the <i>Narcissus</i>. “Captain, I'll stay on the + bridge and conduct all negotiations with that fellow; get your mates, + round up everybody and prepare to abandon the ship in a hurry. Get the + motor cruiser overside first.” + </p> + <p> + As the captain hurried away, Terence Reardon came up on the bridge. The + port engineer's gloomy visage portended tears, but through his narrowed + lids Cappy Ricks saw not tears, but the light of murder. Terence did not + speak, but thoughtfully puffed his pipe, and, with Murphy and Cappy Ricks, + watched the booby hatch on the submarine's deck slide back and her long, + slim, three-inch gun appear, like the tongue of a huge viper. + </p> + <p> + Heads appeared round the breech of the gun; so Michael J. Murphy seized a + megaphone and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Nein! Nix!</i>” accompanying his words with wild pantomime that meant + “Don't shoot!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Emil Bechtel was vastly relieved. He was not an inhuman man, even + if, on occasion, as has already been demonstrated, he could, for the sake + of national expediency, sink a ship without warning. Having missed with + both torpedoes, he could now, in the event of national complications, + enter a vigorous denial of any affidavits alleging an attempted breach of + international law, and his government would uphold him. This knowledge + rendered him both cheerful and polite, as he hove to some hundred yards to + starboard of the <i>Narcissus</i> and informed Captain Michael J. Murphy + that the latter had just fifteen minutes in which to save the ship's + company; whereat Michael J. proved himself every inch a sailor, while + Terence P. proved himself a marine engineer. If there was a word of + opprobrium, mundane or nautical, which the port skipper didn't shout at + that submarine commander, the port engineer supplied it. In all his life + Cappy Ricks had never listened to such rich, racy, unctuous abuse; it + lifted itself about the level of the commonplace and became a work of art. + Cappy was horrified. + </p> + <p> + “Boys! Boys!” he pleaded. “This is frightful!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect from a German, sir?” Murphy demanded. “Frightfulness + is his middle name.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean you two—and your language. Stop it! You'll contaminate me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sor,” Terence Reardon replied philosophically, “I suppose there's + small use cryin' over spilt milk—musha, what are they up to now?” + </p> + <p> + “They're dragging a collapsible boat up from below,” Mike Murphy declared. + “That means they're going to board us, place bombs in the bilges, and sink + us that way. They know blamed well we've wirelessed for help and a patrol + has answered; so that—” + </p> + <p> + “No profanity!” Cappy shrilled. + </p> + <p> + “So he has decided he won't try to sink us by shell fire with such a small + gun. It'll be dark in five minutes and he's afraid the flame of the + discharge or the reports of the gun may guide the patrol boat here before + he's finished his job. Oh, wirra, wirra!” + </p> + <p> + Murphy's surmise proved to be correct, for he had scarcely finished + speaking before the submarine commander hailed him and ordered him to let + down his gangway. Terence P. Reardon's eyes flamed with the lust for + battle. + </p> + <p> + “Be the great gun av Athlone,” he cried, “if they're comin' aboard sure we + can get at them!” + </p> + <p> + Murphy's rage vanished as suddenly as it had gripped him; he smiled at + Terence affectionately, approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “You with your monkey wrench, eh, Terry, my lad? And they with automatic + pistols and wishful of an excuse to use them, not to mention the + nitroglycerin and guncotton bombs they'll be carrying—a divilish bad + thing to have kicking round in a free-for-all fight?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + Terry's face showed his deep disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “They'll see us all in the boats,” Murphy continued; “then they'll go + below, set the bombs, light a slow fuse to give them time to get back to + the submarine—and then—” + </p> + <p> + “With all these poor dumb beasts aboard?” Cappy Ricks quavered. “Horrible! + Horrible! I could kill them for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I could kill them for a greater crime than that,” his port captain + reminded him. “Didn't they try twice to sink us without warning? Damn + them! They're forty fathoms outside the law this minute.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII + </h2> + <p> + For the first time in his life Cappy Ricks was in financial and physical + danger coincidently. Old he was, and a landlubber, for all his courtesy + title; but in his veins there coursed the blood of a long line of fighting + ancestors. It occurred to him now that in all his life he had never cried + “Enough;” that always, when cornered and presumably beaten, he had gone + into executive session with himself and, fox that he was, schemed a way + out. In this supreme moment there came to him now the words of the gallant + Lawrence: “Don't give up the ship!” They inspired him; his agile old + brain, benumbed by the shock of the exciting events of the last quarter of + an hour, threw off its paralysis; his little five-feet-four body thrilled + with the impact of a sudden brilliant idea. + </p> + <p> + “I have it!” he piped. “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, it might be done! + Mike, the submarine lies to starboard. Tell the mate to lower the port + gangway.” + </p> + <p> + Murphy ran out on the end of the bridge and bawled the order. Then he came + back, and he and Terence and Cappy Ricks put their heads together while in + brief, illuminating sentences Cappy Ricks unfolded the fruit of his + genius. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he pleaded when he had finished, “is that scheme practicable?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be done, sir,” Mike Murphy assented. + </p> + <p> + “I'll thry anything the wanst,” Terry Reardon almost barked. + </p> + <p> + “It means some fighting—probably some killing.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorra wan av me'll feel broken-hearted at killin' the likes av that + Dutchman,” Terry answered. “Shtill, we'll be needin' some help, I'm + thinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll get it, or I'm no judge of human nature. Mike, pass the word for + Sam Daniels, the boss of muleteers and broncho busters. Sam used to be a + Texas Ranger.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly Sam Daniels was sent for and arrived on the jump. + </p> + <p> + “Sam, my dear boy,” said Cappy calmly, “I'm enlisting volunteers to raise + hell with that submarine. They're going to put bombs in the bilges and + blow up the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “Count me in, Cap,” Sam Daniels replied laconically. “Want me to rustle up + a couple of the boys?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, about three real ones—boys that are handy with a six-shooter.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess most of the boys from the border have their guns in their war + bags. I'll go get them together.” + </p> + <p> + He did—in about three minutes; by which time the collapsible boat + from the submarine had been launched and was pulling toward the <i>Narcissus</i>. + While her master directed them to pull round to the port gangway, Sam + Daniels slipped down unobserved into Number Three hatch, two of his horse + wranglers disappeared with an equal lack of ostentation down the gangway + into Number Two hatch, and a third man went forward and down Number One. + The trap was set. + </p> + <p> + A stout young lieutenant clad in soiled dungarees, his uniform cap alone + denoting his rank, came briskly up the companion, followed by four jackies + carrying the bombs. A fifth man remained in the boat, fending it away with + a boat hook from the tall black side of the <i>Narcissus</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Who commands here?” the German demanded in most excellent English. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” the master of the <i>Narcissus</i> replied, and stepped a pace + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Then hurry and get your boats overside. We're going to bomb the ship, and + if anybody remains aboard when those bombs explode it will be his fault, + not ours.” + </p> + <p> + The motor cruiser had already been dropped overboard, and the life-boats, + having been for two days swung out in the davits, were quickly filled and + lowered away. As each boat pulled clear of the ship the man in charge of + it was ordered by the submarine lieutenant to stay to port of the <i>Narcissus</i>, + and to pull well clear of the ship before proceeding to pass the towing + painters to the cruiser. + </p> + <p> + “Are all your men off the ship?” the officer queried of the skipper as the + latter entered the last boat and gave the order to lower away. + </p> + <p> + “All off; I've accounted for all of them,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + The German waited until the boat had slipped away in the gloom before + turning to his command. + </p> + <p> + “Proceed!” he said briefly; and, followed by his four men, he led the way + down the cleated temporary gangway built diagonally down Number Three + hatch to accommodate the horses when they had been led aboard. + </p> + <p> + The better to facilitate their progress, Terence Reardon had turned on all + the electric lights in the ship, and the detail proceeded quickly to the + lower hold, where they set two bombs and piled double-compressed baled hay + round them, with the fuse leading out from under the bales. In addition to + blowing a hole in the ship they were taking the added precaution of + setting her afire after the explosion. + </p> + <p> + From the spot where the bombs were set a long alleyway, lined on each side + with the rumps of horses, each neatly boxed in a stall just wide enough + and long enough to inclose him firmly and hold him on his feet in the + event of rough weather, led forward and aft to the bulkheads. And in one + of these stalls, close up against the rump of a horse he could trust, Sam + Daniels, the ex-Texas Ranger, crouched, with one eye round the corner of + the stall, calmly watching the grim proceedings. Something told him that, + having arranged the bombs in that hold, the enemy would not light the + fuses until he had set similar bombs at the bottom of the other hatches; + then, all being in readiness, a man would be sent into each hold to light + the fuse, scurry on deck, descend to the waiting boat, and be pulled clear + of danger before the fuses should burn down to the fulminating caps. + </p> + <p> + So Daniels waited until the men were about to pick up the remaining bombs + and ascend to the deck; whereupon he stepped quietly out into the + alleyway, a long-barreled forty-five in his hand, and pussyfooted swiftly + toward the Germans, whose backs were now turned toward him. Halfway down + the alleyway, on one of the heavy six-by-six-inch uprights temporarily set + in to support the weight of the hundred mules on the deck above, was the + electric switch controlling the circuit in that hold—and Sam Daniels + reached up and turned it down. Instantly the hold was in darkness; and + then the horseman spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Hey, you Dutchies! Stay right where you are! I want to have a little + powwow with you before you go any farther.” + </p> + <p> + Having said this, the astute Mr. Daniels, out of a vast experience gained + while fighting Mexicans and outlaws in the dark, promptly lay down. In + case the enemy should become rattled and fire at the sound of his voice he + preferred to have plenty of room for the bullets to pass over him. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” the lieutenant demanded in English; and by the firm, + resolute voice the Texan knew that the German was not rattled and that his + men would not fire unless he gave the word. + </p> + <p> + “Great thing, this naval discipline!” Mr. Daniels soliloquized. Aloud he + replied: + </p> + <p> + “The fastest, straightest little wing shot with a six shooter that ever + was, old-timer!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you purpose doing, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I purpose giving you some good advice; though whether you accept it or + not is a matter of indifference to me. You will observe that this hold is + in comparative darkness. I say comparative, because through the hatch + space a certain amount of light is projected from the deck above, and you + and your men are standing in that light, whereas I am in the dark. I can + see you and you cannot see me. I have a forty-five caliber revolver in my + hand and another in reserve. There are five of you fellows, constituting a + fair target—and I seldom miss a fair target. I can kill all five of + you in five seconds. Of course some of you may manage to fire at the flash + of my gun and accidentally kill me; but—make no mistake about it, + son—I'll get you and your gang before I kick the bucket. Now, then, + which do you want to do—live or die? I'm going to be fair to you + fellows and give you some choice in the matter—which is more than + you did when you launched those two torpedoes at us. Speak up, brother! + I'm a nervous man and dislike suspense.” + </p> + <p> + The German lieutenant glanced at his men, who had not yet touched the + other bombs and were looking stolidly at him for orders. He licked his + lower lip and scowled, sighed gustily—and made a swift grab for his + automatic. A streak of flame came out of the dark alleyway and the + German's arm hung limp at his side. He had a bullet in his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Told you I was a wing shot!” the plainsman cautioned him pleasantly. “I + would have put that one through your heart if I didn't need an + interpreter. I imagine these roustabouts with you only speak their mother + tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, first, I want you to leave that high explosive right where it is. + Then I want you to deposit all your sidearms on the floor, and have your + men do likewise.” + </p> + <p> + The German had had his lesson and arrived at the conclusion that valor + without discretion is not good business. He slipped his belt off and let + it drop to the floor; at a word from him his men did likewise, whereupon + Daniels stood up, threw on the electric switch, and revealed himself and + his artillery to the gaze of the invaders. + </p> + <p> + “Forward; in a bunch, up the gangway!” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + They obeyed. As the Texan passed the little heap of belts, with the + automatics in the holsters attached, he gathered them up and followed. + Just before the procession reached the main deck he halted them and + whistled—whereupon Michael J. Murphy, Terence P. Reardon and Cappy + Ricks came to the edge of the hatch and peered over. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look who's here!” Cappy exclaimed maliciously. “Five nice little + pirates, who would sink my <i>Narcissus</i> without so much as a be-damned + to you! Mike, bring the irons. Terence, my boy, restrain yourself. If you + use that monkey wrench until I give the word the Blue Star Navigation + Company will have a new port engineer. Undress these fellows. Just remove + their caps and outer garments—and be quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them to molt—<i>muy pronto!</i>” Sam Daniels ordered the + lieutenant, who relayed the order in a voice that had in it a suspicion of + tears. + </p> + <p> + In three minutes they were undressed and handcuffed together; leg irons + were put on them, and they were expeditiously gagged and chained to a + stanchion. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Terence, I have work for you and your monkey wrench,” Cappy + continued. “You're about the same size as this officer. Into his dungarees + and uniform cap; and don't forget to slip on his belt, with the + automatic.” + </p> + <p> + “In two shakes av a lamb's tail, sor. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “As you run down the gangway to the waiting boat, hold your handkerchief + over that Irish mug of yours. Pretend you're blowing your nose. The man in + the boat won't recognize you until you're on top of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Wan little love tap—no more!” Terence breathed lovingly. + </p> + <p> + “When Terence has tapped him, Sam,” Cappy continued, “you go down and help + to get him out on the landing stage. He'll be off our hands there and the + submarine people cannot see what's happened to him. They're still lying on + our starboard beam.” + </p> + <p> + Terence and the deadly Samuel disappeared, to return presently and report + all well. Thereupon Michael J. Murphy retired to the port side of the + house, lit a kerosene torch he had brought up from the engine room and + waved it. He waited. Presently, in the gloom off to port, he saw the red + and green side lights of the little cruiser. For a moment both lights were + visible; then the master of the <i>Narcissus</i>, now in charge of the + cruiser, ported his helm and showed his red only. Murphy waited, and + presently both red and green showed again. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard now, and show your green,” Murphy pleaded. + </p> + <p> + The red went out and the green alone showed; so Mike Murphy extinguished + his torch and rejoined Cappy Ricks, Terence and the ubiquitous Mr. + Daniels. + </p> + <p> + “Sam, my dear boy,” Cappy was saying as Murphy came up, “Mike and Terence + own in the <i>Narcissus</i> and they work for me—hence their + alliance. You owe me no fealty—” + </p> + <p> + “The hell I don't, Cap!” Sam retorted lightly. “You're a fine old sport, + and I'm for you till the last dog is hung.” + </p> + <p> + “Sam, I am deeply grateful. Your friendship is very dear to me indeed. I + have a twenty-two-thousand acre ranch down in Monterey County, California—don't + know why I bought it, unless it was because it was a bargain and ranch + property in California is bound to increase in value—and you're my + foreman if we ever get out of this with a whole skin. I'll make it the + best job you ever had, Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Ricks!” A moment before it had been Cap. “If you never saw + a man fight for a good job before, just watch me!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV + </h2> + <p> + The horse tenders in the other holds were summoned and informed that for + the present the <i>Narcissus</i> would not be bombed. Quickly two of them, + with Mike Murphy and Sam Daniels, donned the dungarees and caps of the + prisoners and strapped on their belts containing the automatics in their + holsters. In the interim Terence had descended to the collapsible boat + bumping at the gangway and fended her off until Sam Daniels, the two + cowboys and Mike Murphy joined him; whereupon Terence took one pair of + oars, while Murphy handled the other, and the boat crept out from the + steamer and headed directly for the submarine, which had been ratching + backward and forward under a dead-slow bell, watching the towering black + hulk of the <i>Narcissus</i> rolling idly. A light showed on the turret of + the submarine, outlining vaguely the figures of half a dozen men on her + small deck. + </p> + <p> + The disposition of Mike Murphy's forces was such that the chances of the + enemy detecting the substitution of the boarding party before it should + reach the submersible were reduced to a minimum. In the bow of the + collapsible one of the cowboys sat, facing the stern; Terence and Mike + also faced the stern, by reason of the fact that they were rowing; and Sam + Daniels and the other cowboy, seated in the stern sheets, were under + orders to turn and look back at the <i>Narcissus</i> as the boat came + within the radius of the meager light from the submarine's turret. Thus + they ran little risk of premature discovery. + </p> + <p> + “For,” as Cappy Ricks sagely reminded them just before they pulled away + from the <i>Narcissus</i>, “the German is both cautious and cocksure. The + capture of his bombing party has been effected without a sound; the + commander saw our men leave the steamer in the boats; he sees the <i>Narcissus</i> + now not under command and wallowing; he figures that all is lovely and the + goose honks high. Therefore, he will be off his guard, since his + suspicions have not been roused. His deck is very dimly lighted by that + single light on the turret, and he knows that light is sufficient to guide + the boat party back to the submarine. There is no sea running to speak of; + so it will not be necessary for him to turn his searchlight on you to + light the way for you. + </p> + <p> + “Moreover, he will not care to use his searchlight, because it may guide a + patrol boat to this spot, and Terence has very carefully turned out all + the lights on the ship which might be visible from a distance, because + that is precisely what that lieutenant would or should have done if we had + given him time. And when you row toward that submarine, row like the + devil, because that's the way the bombing party would row in their hurry + to board the submarine and steam clear of the explosion. It is my guess + that the instant you heave alongside you will be snagged with boat hooks + by the men on her deck. In the excitement of making a quick get-away + nobody will be looking into your faces, anyhow; they'll see your familiar + dungaree suits and caps; some of them may even give you a hand to help you + when you leap aboard. Do not despise such help; just extend your left + hands and before you let go the enemy's right bend your guns—and + you, Terry, your monkey wrench—over their heads. You'll have the + deck in a pig's whisper! Then, Mike, the rest is up to you. I've made the + ball; now you fire it. + </p> + <p> + “I take it the submarine will be in such a hurry to get away that all the + men on her deck will reach down and snake the boat in; once out of danger, + they'll plan on knocking that collapsible down and storing it away at + their leisure. Tackle 'em while they're busy with the boat—provided + you get aboard unsuspected. Terence, remember to shout the minute you go + into action—and I'll give you fighting light.” + </p> + <p> + Following these instructions, Cappy had very solemnly shaken hands all + round and departed for the bridge, where he removed the canvas covering + from the searchlight, bent the reflector toward the submarine, and waited, + with his nervous old finger on the switch. + </p> + <p> + In pursuance of Cappy Ricks' instructions, Mike Murphy and Terence Reardon + rowed furiously toward the submarine—so furiously, indeed, that the + harsh grating of their oars in the rowlocks apprised Captain Emil Bechtel + of their approach some seconds before the boat was visible. At his brisk + command the men on deck stepped down to the low pipe railing on the port + side of the deck, prepared to snag the boat the instant she drew + alongside. When he could hear the sound of the commander's voice, Mike + Murphy chanced a quick look over his shoulder, noted the position of the + submarine, and turned his head again. + </p> + <p> + “Four more strokes, Terry; then ship your oars,” he cautioned the engineer + in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + At the fourth stroke Terence obediently shipped his oars; with a deft + twist of one oar, Murphy straightened the boat and shot neatly in + alongside the submarine, the deck of which was less than three feet above + the water. As Cappy Ricks had anticipated, the men on that deck promptly + snagged the boat at bow and stern with boat hooks—and on the instant + Cappy Ricks' bully boys leaped for their prey. + </p> + <p> + As luck would have it, Terence P. Reardon was the only one offered a + helping hand—and he did not despise it; neither did he forget + Cappy's last instructions. With neatness and ample force he brought his + monkey wrench down on the German's skull; and then to Cappy Ricks, waiting + on the bridge of the <i>Narcissus</i>, came the ancient Irish battlecry of + <i>Faugh-a-ballagh!</i> For the benefit of those not versed in the ways of + the fighting Celt, be it known that <i>Faugh-a-ballagh</i> means Clear the + Road. And history records but few instances when Irish soldiery have + raised that cry and rushed without clearing a pathway. + </p> + <p> + The fight was too short and savage for description. Suffice it to say that + not a shot was fired—the work was too close for that, for the + surprise had been complete. Even before Cappy Ricks could focus the + steamer's searchlight on the fracas, it was over. Terence P. Reardon got + two in two strokes of his trusty monkey wrench; Sam Daniels and his two + fellow-bronco-busters each laid open a German scalp with the long barrels + of their forty-fives; and Michael J. Murphy, plain lunatic-crazy with + rage, disdaining all but Nature's weapons, tied into the amazed Captain + Emil Bechtel under the rules of the Longshoremen's Union—which is to + state that Michael J. Murphy clinched Emil Bechtel, lifted him, set him + down hard on his plump back, crawled him, knelt on his arms, and addressed + him in these words: + </p> + <p> + “Hah! (A right jab to the face.) You would, would you? (Left jab to face.) + You pig-iron polisher! (Bending the nose back forcibly with the heel of + his fist.) When I get (smash) through with your (smash) head (smash) it'll + be long (smash) before you'll block (smash) your hat again (smash) on the + Samson post, you—” + </p> + <p> + “Out av me way, Michael, lad, till I get a kick at his slats!” crooned + Terence P. Reardon, heaving alongside. + </p> + <p> + “You gossoon! Take care of the scuttle; don't let them close it down, or + they'll submerge and drown us. Leave this lad to me, I tell you. He's the + captain, and why shouldn't he be killed by one of his own rank?” + </p> + <p> + Thus rebuked, Terence curbed his blood-thirsty proclivities. Leaving his + countryman to beat his devil's tattoo on the submarine commander, Terence + leaped to the open scuttle just in time to bang another head as it + appeared on a level with the deck. + </p> + <p> + “Let that be a lesson to you!” he called as the unconscious man slid back + down the companion into the interior of the vessel. + </p> + <p> + Then he sat on the lid of the scuttle, poised his monkey wrench on high + over the scuttle, and awaited developments, the while he tossed an order + over his shoulder to Sam Daniels: + </p> + <p> + “Bring me the bum!” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” Mr. Daniels queried. + </p> + <p> + “The German bum, av coorse,” Terence retorted waspishly. + </p> + <p> + “But all these bums are Germans—” + </p> + <p> + “Not that kind av a bum!” howled Terence. “I mean the bum in the boat.” + </p> + <p> + Thus enlightened, Sam brought a bomb from the boat and handed it to the + engineer. In the interim Mike Murphy had polished off his man to his + entire satisfaction and joined Terence at the scuttle, while one of the + horse wranglers, a cool individual and a firm believer in safety first, + collected the weapons from the fallen. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy approached the scuttle and bawled down it to the amazed and + puzzled crew below. As a linguist Mike was no great shakes, particularly + when called upon to juggle German; but he was a resolute fellow and not + afraid to do his best at all times. Consequently his hail took the form of + “Hey! <i>Landsmann!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Something told Terence Reardon that Michael was through; so he added his + mite to the store and bellowed: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Spreckels die deutsch,</i> ye blackguards?” + </p> + <p> + Then both sat back to await developments. Presently a voice at the foot of + the companion said: + </p> + <p> + “Hello dere! Vat iss?” + </p> + <p> + “Vat iss? Hell iss! Dot's vat! Listen to me, you Dutchy. I'm the skipper + of that horse transport your commander tried to sink without warning, and + I'm in command of the deck of this craft, with the scuttle open; and you + can't submerge and wash me off, either. When I give the word I want you + and your men to come up, one at a time and no crowding. And if you're not + up five minutes after I order you up I'll not wait; I'll set a bomb in + your turret, back off in the small boat and kill with revolvers any man + that tries to come up and see where the fuse is burning in order to put it + out. Do you surrender, or would you rather die?” + </p> + <p> + “Vait a minute und I find oud,” the German answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + It required five minutes for a council of war below decks; then the + interpreter came to the foot of the companion and informed Mike Murphy + that, considering the circumstances, they had decided to live. In the + interim the skipper of the <i>Narcissus</i> had arrived, with + re-enforcements, in the cruiser, and reported that his crew was getting + back aboard the steamer as fast as possible and would have her under + command again in a minute. At Murphy's order the unconscious Germans were + put aboard the cruiser; later, when the remainder of the submersible's + crew came up, one at a time, they were disarmed and lined up on the little + deck; whereupon Michael J. Murphy addressed their spokesman thus: + </p> + <p> + “Listen—you! It would be just like you to have set a time bomb + somewhere in this submarine to blow her up after you were all safely out + of her. If you did you made a grave tactical error. You're not going to + leave her for quite a while yet. You're going to sit quietly here on deck, + under guard, while the steamer hooks on to this submarine and tows her; + and if my prize crew is blown up, remember, you—” + </p> + <p> + The spokesman—he was the chief engineer, by the way—yelled “<i>Ach, + Gott!</i>” and leaped for the scuttle. Mike Murphy followed him into the + engine room in time to see him stamp out a long length of slow-burning + fuse. + </p> + <p> + “Any more?” Murphy queried. + </p> + <p> + “Dot von vas sufficient, if it goes off,” the German answered simply. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” Mike Murphy replied. “I'll take a chance and so will you. + You'll stay aboard and run those oil engines.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later with the submarine's crew safely under lock and key on + the <i>Narcissus,</i> the big freighter continued on her course, followed + by the captured submarine, with Michael J. Murphy in her turret and a + quartermaster from the <i>Narcissus</i> at her helm. In the engine room + her own engineer grudgingly explained to Terence P. Reardon the workings + of an oil engine and the ramifications of the electric-light system—and + during all of that period the deadly monkey wrench never left the port + engineer's hand. + </p> + <p> + Sam Daniels and his comrades were once more back aboard the <i>Narcissus,</i> + attending to the horses; and Cappy Ricks, his heart so filled with pride + that it was like to burst, occupied the submarine's turret with the + doughty Michael J. For an hour they discussed the marvelous coup until + there was no angle of it left undiscussed; whereupon fell a silence, with + Michael J.'s eyes fixed on the dark bulk ahead that marked the <i>Narcissus</i>, + and Cappy's thoughts on what Matt Peasley and Mr. Skinner would say when + they heard the glorious news. + </p> + <p> + For nearly an hour not a word passed between the pair. + </p> + <p> + Presently Cappy's regular breathing drew Murphy's attention to him. He had + fallen asleep in his seat, his chin bent on his old breast, a little + half-smile on his lips. And as Murphy looked at him pridefully Cappy spoke + in his sleep: + </p> + <p> + “Holy sailor! How Mike Murphy can swear!” + </p> + <p> + Terence P. Reardon came to the foot of the little spiral staircase leading + to the turret. + </p> + <p> + “Michael, me lad,” he announced, “the internal-combustion ile ingin' is + the marine ingin' av the future. They're as simple as two an' two is four. + Listen, <i>avic!</i> Does she not run like a twenty-four-jewel watch? An' + this man that invinted thim was a Ger-r-man—more power to him! + Faith, I'm thinkin' if the Ger-r-mans were as great in war as they are in + peace 'twould need more nor the Irish to take the measure av thim!” + </p> + <p> + “Irish?” Mike Murphy answered irritably. “Terence, quit your bragging! God + knows the Irish are great—” + </p> + <p> + “The greatest in the wide, wide wur-rld!” Terence declared, with all the + egotism of his race. + </p> + <p> + “Whist, Terry! There's a little old Yankee man aboard; if you wake him up + he'll call you a liar.” + </p> + <p> + “The darlin' ould fox!” Terry murmured affectionately, and went back to + his engines. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV + </h2> + <p> + The entire office force of the Blue Star Navigation Company and the Ricks + Lumber & Logging Company had assembled in the general office to greet + Cappy Ricks, Mike Murphy and Terence Reardon upon their return from + Europe, and to hear at first hand the story of their wanderings and + adventures. And when the wondrous tale had been told, and business was + once more resumed, Matt Peasley, Mr. Skinner, Mike and Terence convened in + Cappy Ricks' office for further discussion. + </p> + <p> + “We sent that half million dollars to New York to be transferred to the + credit of the French Government when the bill of sale for that steamer + should be deposited with the bank there,” Matt remarked presently. “What + kind of a vessel did you buy, Cappy? What are her dimensions?” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a ship did I buy?” Cappy piped. “Hum-m-m! A ship is good. I + bought four; and—believe me!—they're no skiffs, either. All of + them are big foreign-going steel tramps, with lots of speed and power.” + </p> + <p> + “Four for half a million dollars?” Matt Peasley cried unbelievingly. + </p> + <p> + “They would have cost anybody else a million and a half; but—er—well, + you see, Matt, I had a stand-in with the right people. The four vessels I + bought were all prizes of war—German merchantmen converted into + commerce raiders, which had slipped through the cordon of British cruisers + and got into the North Atlantic, where French cruisers overhauled them and + brought them into port. They were all there and up for sale to the highest + bidder when we got there with the horses and our captured submarine. + </p> + <p> + “I bid half a million for the lot, which is probably about half of what it + cost to build them; and there was a Frenchman and an Englishman bidding + against me. They each had me topped, and the vessels were knocked down to + the Frenchman; but when he found I was a competitor—that I was + Monsieur le Capitaine Ricks—that's what they called me, Matt—in + command of the party that captured a German submarine, intact and without + the loss of a single man on either side-say, Matt, the stuff was all off! + </p> + <p> + “He and the Englishman went into a conference; and the result was, the + Frenchman ran out on his bid and forfeited his ten-per-cent certified + check. That left the Englishman the next highest bidder; and he ran out on + his bid and left the ships to me! Then the Englishman shook hands with me + and the Frenchman kissed me. I thought the least I could do was to make + good to them on the earnest money they had forfeited, and they accepted + it. Then the President of France heard about it and came down to Brest to + see me; and he kissed me, too, and gave me the Officers' Cross of the + Legion of Honor. I didn't tell him I was just a private in the ranks. Oh, + no! Nothing doing. I was introduced as Monsieur le Capitaine Ricks—and + that settled it. I was an officer, for all my courtesy title; and I took + the Cross, because I was prouder than Punch to have it. + </p> + <p> + “Then the Chamber of Deputies met and voted the Frenchman and the + Englishman back their forfeited earnest money; and they gave me back my + checks, and I wrote new ones for the same amount and split the swag + fifty-fifty between the two nations for the care of their wounded. Then I + gave a dinner aboard the submarine, and President Poincare was present. I + presented the submarine, with the compliments of the Blue Star Navigation + Company, to the Republic of France, and the President accepted, all hands + went out on deck and we cracked a bottle of champagne over that + submersible's bows and rechristened her.” + </p> + <p> + “What name?” Matt and Skinner chorused. + </p> + <p> + “The Shamrock—out of compliment to Mike and Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine!” Matt cried. “Then what?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Matt. Our business was finished and I was anxious to get back on + the job; so we engaged skippers and crews to bring our four freighters to + New York, and came home. + </p> + <p> + “Better step lively, boy, and dig up some business for them! Mike will + give you the data on their tonnage.” + </p> + <p> + Matt drew Mike Murphy aside. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mike,” he whispered, “did the old man get soused at that dinner + aboard the <i>Shamrock?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Matt,” Murphy answered; “what Monsieur le Capitaine Ricks does + outside of office hours is none of my business—or yours, either. And + if you don't like that answer help yourself to a new port captain. I'm not + telling everything I know, Matt.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of April 3, 1917, Cappy Ricks came down to his office, + spread a newspaper on his desk and carefully cut from it the war address + of President Wilson to Congress, made the night before. This clipping the + old gentleman folded carefully; he placed it in an envelope, sealed it and + wrote across the face of the envelope: “Property of Alden Matthew + Peasley.” Then he summoned Mr. Skinner, president of the Ricks Lumber + & Logging Company. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he began, “have you read the President's Message + to Congress?” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” replied Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that President of ours isn't some tabasco, eh? By the Holy + Pink-Toed Prophet, he's just naturally read Bill Hohenzollern out of the + party. Bully for Woodrow!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner's calm cold features refused to thaw, however, under the heat + of his employer's enthusiasm, seeing which Cappy slid out to the edge of + his chair and gazed contemplatively at Skinner over the rims of his + spectacles. “Hum-m-m!” he said. The very tempo of that throat-clearing + should have warned Mr. Skinner that he was treading on thin ice, but with + his usual complacence he ignored the storm signal, for his mind was upon + private, not public affairs. + </p> + <p> + “I'm offered the old barkentine <i>C. D. Bryant</i> for a cargo of redwood + to Sydney,” he began. “The freight rate is two hundred and twenty + shillings per thousand feet, but the <i>Bryant</i> is so old and rotten I + can't get any insurance on the cargo if I ship by her. I'm just wondering + if—” + </p> + <p> + “Haramph-h-h! Ahem-m-m!” + </p> + <p> + “—it's worth while taking a chance to move that foreign order.” + </p> + <p> + “Skinner!” Cappy almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner looked at him, startled. + </p> + <p> + “How can you think and talk of old barkentines and non-insurable foreign + cargoes at this crisis in our country's history?” the autocrat of the + numerous Ricks corporations shrilled furiously. “Dad burn your picture, + Skinner, are you human? Don't you ever get a thrill from reading a + document like this?”—and he tapped the envelope containing the press + clipping. “What kind of juice runs in your arteries, anyhow? Red blood or + buttermilk? Is your soul so dog-goned dead, crushed under the weight of + dollars, that you have failed to realize this document is destined to go + down in history side by side with Lincoln's Gettysburg speech? I'll bet + you don't know the Gettysburg speech. Bet you never heard of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense, Mr. Ricks,” Skinner retorted suavely. “Pray do not excite + yourself. Suppose war does impend? Is that any reason why I should neglect + business?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is, you gibbering jackdaw! I feel like setting fire to the + building, just to celebrate. Can't you step into my office on a day like + this and discuss the country and her affairs for five minutes, just to + prove you're an American citizen? Can't you rejoice with me over these + lofty, noble sentiments—” + </p> + <p> + “Words, words, empty words,” warned Mr. Skinner, always a reactionary + Republican. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner,” said Cappy with deadly calm, “one more disloyal peep out of you + and I shall have no alternative save to request your resignation. I think + you're a pacifist at heart, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + “Huh,” snorted Skinner. “You've changed your tune, haven't you? Who + trotted up and down California Street last fall, soliciting campaign + contributions for the Republican nominee from the lumber and shipping + interests? Wasn't it Alden P. Ricks? Who thought the country was going to + wrack and ruin—” + </p> + <p> + “That was last fall,” Cappy interrupted shrilly. “We live and learn—that + is, some of us do,” he added significantly. “Never mind about my politics + last fall; just remember I haven't any this spring. I'm an American + citizen, and by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, some German or Germans will + find it out before I'm gathered to the bosom of Abraham. I have a right to + disapprove of my President if I feel like it, but I'll be shot if I'll let + anybody else pick on him.” And Cappy shook his head emphatically several + times like a squinch-owl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm for him, now that we're committed to this war,” Skinner declared + in an effort to soothe the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Sure! We're locking the stable door after the horse has been stolen. If + we'd been for him when the <i>Lusitania</i> was sunk instead of being + divided in our opinions and swayed in our judgment by a lot of hysterical + pacifists and German propagandists we'd have been into the war long ago + and saved millions of human lives; we'd have had the war won.” He sighed. + </p> + <p> + “What a prime lot of jackasses we Americans are!” he continued. “We talk + of liberty and demand license; we prate of democracy and we're a nation of + snobs!” + </p> + <p> + “You wanted to see me about something,” Skinner reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes; I was forgetting. This envelope, Skinner, contains the + President's address. Take it and put it in the vault, and when my grandson + is twelve years old give that press clipping to his mother and tell her I + said she was to read it to the boy and make him learn it by heart. I won't + be on hand to do the Americanizing of that youngster myself, and most + likely Matt Peasley will be too busy to think much about it, so I'm taking + no chances. You rile me to beat the band sometimes, Skinner, but I'll say + this much in your favor: I have never known you to forget anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner took the envelope and departed, and Cappy rang for a + stenographer. + </p> + <p> + “Take a telegram, fast day message,” he barked: “'His Excellency, The + President, White House, Washington, D. C. Dear Mister President: I did not + vote for you last fall, but your address of last night makes me ashamed + that I did not. I am controlling owner of the Blue Star Navigation + Company, operating a fleet of fifty vessels of various kinds, twelve of + which are foreign-going steam freighters. Am also controlling owner of the + Ricks Lumber & Logging Company, cutting a million feet of lumber + daily. Everything I control, every dollar I possess, is at the service of + my country. God bless you, sir! Alden P. Ricks.' + </p> + <p> + “That sounds sloppy, but it's the way I feel,” Cappy declared. “When a man + has a big heart-breaking job to do and a lot of Philistines are knocking + him, maybe it helps him to retain his faith in humankind to have some + fellow grow sincerely sloppy and slip a telegraphic cheer in with the + hoots. Besides, if I didn't let off steam today I'd swell up and bust + myself all over the office—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Mr. Terence P. Reardon, port engineer of the Blue Star + Navigation Company, entered. Mr. Reardon's right eye was in deep mourning + and at no very remote period something—presumably a fist—had + shifted his nose slightly to starboard; indeed, even as he entered Cappy's + office a globule of the rich red Reardon blood trembled in each of the + port engineer's nostrils. His knuckles were slightly skinned and the light + of battle blazed in his black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Terence, my dear, dear fellow,” murmured the horrified Cappy, “you look + as if you had been fed into a concrete mixer. Have you been fighting?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sor,” Mr. Reardon replied in his deep Kerry brogue, “ye might call + it that for lack of somethin' more expressive. I've just fired the chief + engineer o' the <i>Tillicum.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Denicke? Why, Terry, he's a first-rate engineer. I'm amazed. He was + with us ten years before you entered the employ—worked up from + oiler; in fact, I must have an explanation of your action in this case, + Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “He called the President a nut. I fired him for that. Then he said the + Kaiser was the greatest single force for civilization that ever was, an' + wit' that I gave him a lift under the lug an' we wint at it. He's in the + Harbor Receivin' Hospital this minute, an' I'm here to tell ye, sor, wit' + all respect, that if ye don't like the way I've treated that Dutchman ye + can get yerself a new port ingineer, for I'll quit, an' that's somethin' + I'm not wishful to do.” + </p> + <p> + Quite calmly Cappy Ricks pressed the buzzer on his desk. The cashier of + the Blue Star Navigation Company entered. “Son,” said Cappy, “hereafter, + when making out Mr. Reardon's pay check, tack onto it twenty-five dollars + extra each month. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sor,” murmured Mr. Reardon, quite overcome. + </p> + <p> + “Get out!” cried Cappy. “You're a vision of sudden death. Go wash + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Reardon took his departure Cappy sighed. “If Skinner only had a set + of works like that port engineer!” he murmured. “If he only had!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVII + </h2> + <p> + It will be recalled that war with Germany was declared on Good Friday. + Bright and early on Saturday morning Cappy Ricks arrived at his office and + immediately summoned Mr. Skinner. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, my dear boy,” he chirped, “'the tumult and the shouting dies. + We're down to brass tacks—at last; and now is time for all good men + and true to come to the aid of the party. I'm too old to bear arms, and + when I was young enough bantam battalions weren't fashionable; + nevertheless, I am enlisting for the war, and I start in this morning to + do my part. I won't wear any uniform, but believe me, Skinner, I'm the + little corporal who's going to mobilize the Blue Star Navigation Company + and the Ricks Lumber & Logging Company, together with all and sundry + of their subsidiary corporations. I'm starting with you, Skinner. Are you + figuring on enlisting?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, sir. I'm forty-three years old, married—” + </p> + <p> + “No excuses necessary, Skinner. Even if you had planned to enlist I would + have forbidden the banns. You'd make a bird of a paymaster or + quartermaster, but as an enlisted man—well, the other bad soldier + boys would toss you in a blanket. So I'll assign you to a job in civil + life. Skinner, what do you know about aeroplanes?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing, except that they fly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then learn something! Skinner, the ideal wood for aeroplane construction + is clear Pacific Coast spruce. I've been reading up on the subject. + Inasmuch as this war must be won in the air, you can imagine the number of + aeroplanes the country must turn out in the next eighteen months. + Stu-pen-dous, Skinner, simply stu-pen-dous! Try to visualize the wastage + alone in the aeroplanes on the battle fronts; consider the thousands of + seaplanes that will scour the Atlantic on the lookout for submarines, and + then ask yourself, Skinner, what the devil those overworked army and navy + officers in Washington are going to do about laying in a supply of clear + Pacific Coast spruce before these pirates of lumbermen get next and boost + the price clear out of sight. Skinner, what is clear spruce worth at the + Northern mills today?” + </p> + <p> + “About fifty-five dollars per thousand, sir. For years clear spruce never + rose in price beyond thirty-five dollars, but purchases by the British + Government have shot the price up during the past year.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly! And purchases by the United States Government will shoot the + price up to a hundred and fifty dollars a thousand if you and I don't get + busy. Now then, Skinner, listen to me! We have a couple of thousand acres + of wonderful spruce timber adjacent to our fir holdings at Port Hadlock, + Washington. Wire the mill manager to swamp in a logging railroad to that + spruce timber, put in logging camps and concentrate on spruce. The clear + stock we'll sell to the Government, and the lower grades will be snapped + up by the box factories.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skinner nodded his comprehension of the order and Cappy continued: + “Wire our mill managers at Astoria, Oregon and Eureka, California, to log + out all the spruce they come across among the fir. As for you, Skinner, + accept no more orders for clear spruce from our regular customers, and go + easy on accepting orders for any kind of lumber from our Eastern + customers. All those car shipments must be made up of kiln-dried stock, + and we'll want most of the space in our dry kilns to cook this clear green + spruce for Uncle Sam, because he's going to want it in a hurry, and if he + can't get it when he wants it—why, chaos has come again and all + hell's let loose!” + </p> + <p> + “What price do you propose charging the Government for this clear spruce?” + the cautious Skinner queried. He owned a little stock in the Ricks Lumber + & Logging Company and already he had a vision of an extra dividend. + </p> + <p> + “Absolute cost plus ten per cent,” replied Cappy promptly. “No excess + profits at the expense of the country at war, Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed upon Skinner contemplatively for several seconds. “And mind you + don't figure the cost too liberally,” he warned him. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by a jugful! You scatter round the market and buy up every stick of + clear two-inch spruce sawed and on hand at the Northern mills. Buy at the + market, but do not hesitate to go five dollars over the market if + necessary to get the stock. Then place orders for all the clear spruce the + mills can cut and deliver within the next six months, and we'll have the + market hog tied. + </p> + <p> + “Got to do it, Skinner. I tell you there isn't a whole lot of difference + between a lumberman and a manufacturer or a food speculator. When he gets + the public foul, doesn't the public pay through the nose? Haven't we been + doing it ourselves in the matter of ship freights? But we must reform, + Skinner, we must reform and get down to a cooperative basis, no matter how + great the agony. On this spruce deal alone, for instance, we'll save the + Government a couple of million dollars. See if we don't.” + </p> + <p> + “We're entitled to a liberal profit,” Mr. Skinner protested. “If—” + </p> + <p> + “No ifs, buts or ands! Obey orders! About the time we have the market on + clear spruce well cornered the lumbermen's boys will be in the army and + the lumbermen themselves will have begun to realize that they must + sacrifice something for their country. And once we're sane we'll be able + to work hand in glove with the Government. The United States of America + has been money-mad for a long time, Skinner, but this war is going to + spiritualize us and show us that there's a lot more in life than + dollar-chasing. Hop to your job, P. D. Q., Skinner, my boy; and as you + pass out send Captain Matt Peasley in to me.” + </p> + <p> + Matt Peasley came smilingly into his father-in-law's office. “Well, + Cappy,” he hailed the old gentleman, “I understand you've come out of your + retirement.” + </p> + <p> + “You're damned whistling, I have!” Cappy rejoined. “Something doing, boy, + something for everybody! Have they told you about it in the general + office?” + </p> + <p> + “Told me about what?” + </p> + <p> + “About the President asking me if I would cooperate with him to the extent + of serving as the Pacific Coast member of the Shipping Board? I guess that + isn't some honor, eh? How the devil he ever dug up an old fossil like me + is a mystery. I wired him, advising that he appoint a younger man, but he + replied that he knew I was the livest shipping man in the country and an + American through and through. So, of course, Matt, I have accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “Your forty odd years' experience will be of inestimable value to the + country in this emergency,” Matt declared heartily. “I'm proud of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, son. Now then, Matt, to business! The Government's going to + need every one of our ships that can run foreign.” Matt nodded. “Very + well, then,” Cappy continued; “as fast as their present charters lapse, + decline to recharter except for single trips. We must go on a war basis + and be prepared to turn our ships over to the Government on short notice. + I'll be too busy to keep my eye on the details of the Blue Star's + transactions with the Government, so I'll give you a straight tip now—I + want no gouging. Remember that, Matthew, my son.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVIII + </h2> + <p> + The following day Cappy had a call from Sam Daniels. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Sam,” Cappy greeted his lanky ranch manager. “What brings you up + to town? Not that I'm not glad to see you, for I was on the point of + writing you on some matters that had occurred to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I've come up to resign my job,” Daniels declared humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Resign the best job you've ever had, Sam!” Cappy was amazed. + </p> + <p> + “To resign the best job I ever will have, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels hitched his chair close to his employer's desk. “Boss,” he + said, “I'm awful sorry, but I'm goin' soldiering.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks sprang to his feet with an oath. “You're not!” he shouted. “I + won't hear of it. You're too valuable a man to go into the army and get + yourself killed—particularly since you can do your share at home. + Why, I was just going to write you and give you your orders for patriotic + duty. You go back to the ranch, Sam, and get busy. Plant spuds, wheat, + oats, barley, corn—plant all you can of it. Raise heifers, sheep, + hogs, cows, bulls, calves, turkeys—everything that can be eaten. + Raise horses—and in particular, raise mules.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather raise hell with a bunch of Germans,” Sam Daniels declared + feelingly. + </p> + <p> + “Your job is to help produce cereals and canned beef for the + hell-raisers,” Cappy declared. “The army will want horses for the + artillery and mules for the transport. Why, this war may last for years. + Sam, you infernal scoundrel, you get back on the farm. You're forty-five + years old and you've been shot and whittled enough in your day to last you + the remainder of your natural life. Let the young fellows do the fighting + abroad, while you and I and the other hasbeens do it at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd a heap rather lay off in the brush somewheres an' snipe Germans,” Mr. + Daniels pleaded. “On the level, boss, if they'll give me a Springfield + rifle with telescopic sights I'll guarantee to sicken anythin' I get a + fair sight on at a thousand yards.” + </p> + <p> + “In-fer-nal scoundrel! How dare you argue with me! You get back on your + job!” + </p> + <p> + “Boss, I'm going into the army,” Daniels announced sadly, but nevertheless + firmly. “I'm givin' you a month's notice so you can get a man to take my + place.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy surrendered. “All right, Sam. If you survive, your job will be + waiting for you when you get back. However, you needn't give me any + notice. I'll have another man in charge of the ranch to-morrow, and you + can enlist today.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're not sore at me, Mr. Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “Sam, I'm proud of you. Wish I were young enough to go it with you. Are + you in a hurry to get to France?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then join the marines. They always go first. Good-bye, Sam. Good luck to + you and God bless you! Draw your wages as you go out and tell the cashier + I said to give you an extra month's wages for tobacco money.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels withdrew, visibly filled with emotion. Ten minutes later Cappy + Ricks, watching at his office window, saw Mr. Daniels cross the street and + enter the marines' recruiting office. Immediately Cappy called that + recruiting office on the telephone and asked for the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, doctor!” he said. “In a few minutes a lanky, battle scarred + rancher is coming in to be examined. I don't want him to enlist. He's my + ranch manager and worth more to the country in his job than at the Front. + You turn him down physically, doctor, and I'll guarantee to send you five + fine recruits instead of that old fossil. His name is Sam Daniels, and I'm + Alden P. Ricks, of the Blue Star Navigation Company, across the street.” + </p> + <p> + “We need an automobile to send our recruiting sergeant out through the + state,” the wary medico replied. “Now, if you could loan us one—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have my own car and chauffeur over in half an hour, and you keep him + as long as you need him,” Cappy piped. “Only tell Sam Daniels he's + faltering on the brink of the grave and send him back to me.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later Mr. Daniels slouched into Cappy Ricks' office. “Well, + Private Daniels,” the old man saluted him, “you look downcast. Has + something slipped?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say it has. The doc over to the recruitin' office says I got a + heart murmur from smoking cigarettes, which it's a cinch the excitement o' + battle brings on death from heart failure, an' then folks would say I died + o' fright.” + </p> + <p> + “He's crazy Sam! Tell him to go chase himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he's right, Mr. Ricks. He 'most cried to let me go, an' was for + waivin' the heart murmur, but it seems I got a floatin' kidney, an' flat + feet. Gosh, I never knew I had flat feet, but then I've rid horses all my + life an' ain't never hiked none to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent several minutes, studying the pattern of the office carpet. + Presently he looked up. “Is my successor at the ranch already appointed?” + he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the fields and the kind-faced cows, Samuel,” quoth Cappy + gently. “Hurry, or you'll miss the train.” + </p> + <p> + Sam Daniels fled, and hard on his heels came Mrs. Michael J. Murphy, <i>nee</i> + Miss Keenan. It will be recalled that prior to her happy alliance with + Michael J. Murphy, Mrs. Murphy had been Cappy Ricks' favorite + stenographer. He received her cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, what's gone wrong, my dear?” he demanded. “Have you and Mike + been making a hash of your married life that you should come in here on + the verge of tears?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Murphy blinked away a tear or two and sat down. “Some of the boys in + the office will be enlisting, Mr. Ricks,” she faltered. “I wonder if there + might be a vacancy for me—if I might not have my old position back?” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks was genuinely concerned. “Why, Mike won't let you earn your + living,” he declared. “Why do you make such an extraordinary request?” + </p> + <p> + “For Mike's sake, Mr. Ricks. Of late he has been very nervous and + distrait; scarcely touches his meals, and thinks, talks and dreams of war. + Last night he dreamed he was back in the navy and shouted out an order + that woke him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it, I believe Mike did spend several years in the navy + prior to going into mercantile marine,” Cappy observed. “So he has the war + fever again, eh? Wants to go back?” + </p> + <p> + “Ever since he received a letter from the Navy League. They're searching + out all the old navy men—gun pointers particularly—and asking + them to come back to help train the young fellows just coming into the + service. Mike was a gun pointer—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what in thunder is he hesitating for?” Cappy piped wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + “About me. Mike's married to me, you know, and he worries about what will + happen to me if he should be killed. He knows I'll be broken-hearted if he + enlists—he's afraid I'll not let him go. But if I got my job back + and was self-supporting, Mike's conscience would be—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want him to go?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Ricks, but he must go. I do not want to make a coward or a + slacker out of Mike. I've got to do my part, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Cappy feelingly, “you're a noble woman. Go back and attend + to your little home; Mike may go whenever he's ready and his salary with + the Blue Star will go on while he is in the navy; his job will be waiting + for him when he comes back. Good old Mike! How dreadful a crime to hobble + that Irishman with a first-class fight in sight.” + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Mike had left the office Cappy stiffened out suddenly in his + chair, clenched his fists and closed his eyes, as if in pain. And + presently between the wrinkled old lids two tears crept forth. Poor Cappy! + He was finding it very, very hard to be old and little and out of the + fight, for in every war in which the United States had engaged + representatives of the tribe of Ricks had gladly offered their bodies for + the supreme sacrifice, and as Cappy's active mind ran down the long and + bloody list his heart swelled with anguish in the knowledge that he was + doomed to play an inglorious part in the war with Germany. Mr. Skinner + coming in with a letter to Cappy, observed the old man's emotion and asked + him if he was ill. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Skinner, I am,” he replied. “I'm sick at heart. God has given me + everything I ever wanted except six big strapping sons. Just think, + Skinner, what a glorious honor would be mine if I had six fine boys to + give to my country.” His old lips trembled. “And you could bank on the + Ricks boys,” he added. “My boys would never wait to be drafted. No, + sir-ree! When they heard the call they'd answer, like their ancestors. + </p> + <p> + “Skinner, what has come over our boys of this generation? Why don't they + volunteer? Why does the President have to beg for men? Has the soul of the + idealist been corroded by a life of ease? Did the spirit of adventure die + with our forefathers? Is it any harder to die just because war has become + more terrible—more deadly? Oh, Skinner, Skinner! To be young and + tall and strong and whirled in the cycle of vast events—to play a + man's part in a glorious undertaking—to feel that I have enriched + the world with my efforts, however humble, or with my body revitalized the + soil made fallow by a ravishing monster. I feel, Skinner—I feel so + much and can do so little.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he did do something that very afternoon. One after the other + he examined all the young men in his employ, discovered which of them + could afford the luxury of enlisting and then asked them bluntly whether + they were going to enlist. Three of them said they were, and Cappy + promised each of them a month's salary the day he should report to him in + uniform. Nine others appeared to be uncertain of their duty, so Cappy + fired them all, to the great distress of Mr. Skinner and Matt Peasley. + Cappy, however, turned a deaf ear to their remonstrances. + </p> + <p> + “A man who won't fight for his country is no good,” he declared; “and I + won't keep a no-good son of a slacker on my pay roll. Get married men or + men who have been rejected for military service to take the places of + these bums who haven't courage enough even to try to enlist.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIX + </h2> + <p> + The campaign for the Liberty bonds brought Cappy an appointment from the + mayor as captain of a corps of volunteer bond salesmen to work the + wholesale lumber and shipping trade, and for three weeks the old gentleman + was as busy as the proverbial one-armed paper hanger with the itch. He was + obsessed with a fear that the bond issue would be under-subscribed by + about a billion and a half and result in the United States of America + being accorded a hearty Teutonic horse laugh. Consequently he made five + separate subscriptions on his own account, and just before the lists + closed on the last day he was again overcome with apprehension and + subscribed for an additional ten thousand dollars' worth for his grandson! + When the result of the Liberty-bond campaign was made known he almost wept + with joy and gave a wonderful dinner to his corps of salesmen, after which + he went down to his ranch to rest for a week and see what Sam Daniels was + up to. + </p> + <p> + The morning he returned to town, prepared to leap, heart and soul into the + hundred-million-dollar Red Cross drive, he had a visit from his port + captain, Michael J. Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” Murphy announced, “I've cleaned up all the little details in + my department, your new port captain is on the job, and I'm about to go + over to the naval training station on Goat Island and hold up my hand + again. But before I go, sir, I want to express to you something of what I + feel for what you've done for me and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut. Not another peep out of you, sir!” Cappy commanded. To be + thanked for anything always made him feel uncomfortable. “What branch of + the service do you hope to get into, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get aboard a destroyer, sir, though they're the divil an' all + to live aboard. They offer the best chance for action. Patrolling the + submarine zone, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Gosh,” Cappy groaned; “everybody's got the submarines on the brain, and + I'm tagging along with the rest. Mike, I swear I can't sleep nights, + thinking of this war. It breaks my heart to realize I'm out of it. And + because I'm a shipping man, naturally my fool brain runs to submarines and + how to control them. Mike, I have a great yearning to sink a submarine; + the screams of those scoundrels aboard her would be music to my ears.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a serious problem,” Murphy declared soberly; “but I'm hoping our + Yankee ingenuity will solve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we haven't done it to date, and in the meantime all the nut + inventors in the world are sending their nut ideas in to the National + Council of Defense. Of course I have a bright idea too. I'm a great hand + at hatching cute schemes, you know. However, I differ from the average + submarine nut in this—that I want to try out my theory in practice + before submitting it to an expectant world. Still, I'd need you to help + me; and now that you're going into the navy I suppose I'll have to forget + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I seem to remember a scheme of yours that resulted in the capture of a + submarine last year,” Murphy reminded the old man. “That was a bully + scheme, and I'm willing to wager that the head which produced it can + produce another just as good. Tell me your plan for eliminating + submarines, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “My scheme doesn't contemplate a continuous performance,” Cappy hastened + to explain, “but it might work out once or twice—and in this great + international emergency anything is worth trying once. I could demonstrate + my theory in about two months—with your help.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” declared Michael J. Murphy, “I'll wait until you give the + demonstration before enlisting in the navy.” + </p> + <p> + “Bully for you, Mike! I'll declare Terry Reardon in on the experiment + also, for the reason that one of the ingredients required is a chief + engineer with courage to spare. Now then, for my scheme: Do you know the + <i>Costa Rica?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “That old steamer that used to run to Panama for the Pacific Mail?” + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “What about her?” + </p> + <p> + “She's in the bone yard—laid up for keeps, Mike. Her plates are so + thin and soft the least jar would punch a hole in her; she's wrecked and + strained from fifty years of service; her engines are worn out, her + boilers are burned out, her gear is antiquated, and even in these times of + abnormal freight rates she's too far gone to patch up and keep running. + They kicked her up in the mud of Oakland Inner Harbor yesterday, and there + she'll be stripped of everything of value and left to rot. My plan, Mike, + is to buy the old <i>Costa Rica</i> for a couple of thousand dollars, turn + Terence Reardon and his gang loose on her engines and boilers for a couple + of weeks and take the old coffin out for one final voyage. She can make + eight or nine knots in good weather, and if she's torpedoed the loss will + be trifling. Will you run the risk and take her out for me, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “As a decoy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll put a hand-picked crew aboard her, Mike; we'll arm her fore and aft + with six-inch guns, which we can readily get from the navy now that it's + the fashion to arm merchantmen; and then go cruising in the submarine + zone. You can pick up a few old navy men for a gun crew and train some of + the Costa Rica's crew, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “If we can get somebody to give me the range and manage to get the gun + loaded somehow, I'll do the gun pointing; with half a chance I'll + guarantee results.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is exactly what I plan to give you—half a chance,” Cappy + declared enthusiastically. “The Costa Rica isn't worth two hoots in a + hollow, but she still looks enough like a steamer to attract submarines; + and during this fine summer weather we can chance a final voyage with the + old wreck.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you get this 'we' stuff, Mr. Ricks?” Mike Murphy queried + bluntly. “You're not figuring on going to sea in that coffin, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I most certainly am so figuring. I take my fun where I find it, Mike, and + if I'm to plan and pay for this experiment—then, by gravy, I'm going + to be on deck to watch it work out if it's the last act of my sinful + career.” + </p> + <p> + “But if they fire on us you may be killed.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll be firm' back at 'em, won't we? And if I'm killed in action, won't + that be a fitting finish for a Ricks?” + </p> + <p> + “We may be afloat in an open boat for a week. I don't want you to die of + exposure, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it, Mike! I've been charged off to profit and loss for so many + years it makes me ill to think of them. And you remember, my dear Mike, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“'To every man upon this earth + Death cometh soon or late; + And how can man die better + Than facing fearful odds + For the ashes of his fathers + And the temples of his gods?''</i> +</pre> + <p> + Don't argue with me, Mike. My mind is quite made up. I'm going into action + in this war, for, as I said before, I'll try anything once—particularly + when it isn't very expensive and I can afford the luxury. We're going to + buy the <i>Costa Rica</i>, take her into the submarine zone and lose her, + but, by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, we'll take a submarine with us!” + </p> + <p> + “Not if the German sees us first.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy leaned forward and laid his index finger impressively on Michael J. + Murphy's knee. “That's the only way we can hope to win,” he declared. “We + must make certain the submarine sees us first. Mike, a German is a rabid + disciple of law and order; anything out of the usual run of things upsets + him terribly; he never makes allowance for the unexpected or for the other + fellow's point of view. To be more exact, Mike, I figure that German + psychology is the only kind of psychology a German can understand. And to + tell you the truth, Mike,” he added musingly, “there are blamed few people + who can understand mine.” + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy nodded a vigorous indorsement to this last remark, and + Cappy went on: “Do you think any proud and arrogant skipper of a German + submarine would ever suspect an American citizen of such a harebrained + scheme as the sending out of a rusty, creaking old rattletrap of a steamer + that can't get out of her own way, for the avowed purpose of destroying + him and his sub? No sir! His microphones will tell him, while he is still + totally submerged, that his approaching prey is a slow poke and cannot + possibly outrun him; then he'll come up, take a look and clinch his + conclusions—after which he will attack.” + </p> + <p> + “True for you sir. He'll launch his torpedo and dive before I can get a + shot at him or correct my range to hit him; then the torpedo will hit us + and we'll go up like a shower of mush—probably with half a dozen men + killed and nothing accomplished in the way of a return swat.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the program a few months ago,” Cappy retorted triumphantly. + “Have you noticed, however, that since merchantmen have been armed the + submarines are more and more prone, when attacking in daylight, to pursue + a steamer at a reasonable distance and rake her with shell fire? If a + vessel is fired on and her skipper, looking back, notes the position of + the submarine and realizes that he cannot possibly outrun her and that she + outranges him, what does he do, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “He does the sensible thing. Heaves to to avoid loss of life, gets his men + into the boats and abandons his ship to the Hun.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely! And if the Hun thinks he is not likely to be disturbed for a + couple of hours, what does he do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Murphy, “he comes aboard, removes all the stores he can—particularly + engine oil—and strips the vessel of all her brass, copper and bronze + fittings. These metals are very scarce in Germany and they need all they + can get in the manufacture of munitions.” + </p> + <p> + “Correct! And we must bear in mind, Mike, the fact that a German is + naturally thrifty; if he can sink a ship with shell fire or bombs set in + her bilges he will not waste on her a torpedo that costs from ten to + twenty thousand dollars. Now, will he?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Then my plan is absurdly simple. We merely provide a gorgeous opportunity + for the enemy; we inculcate in him the idea that he is about to pick a + soft one—then: Alas, poor Yorick!” + </p> + <p> + Michael J. Murphy rose and put on his hat. “Where are you going, Mike?” + Cappy demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going up to the navy yard at Mare Island,” the port captain declared, + “to see if I cannot pick up a couple of six-inch rifles of the model they + used when I was in the navy. They're obsolete now, but I understand them—and + while I'm getting the guns I'll pick up four or five old navy men. Leave + it to me, Mr. Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll give 'em hell!” shouted Cappy. + </p> + <p> + “We will!” quoth Michael J. Murphy with conviction. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LX + </h2> + <p> + Two weeks later the old <i>Costa Rica,</i> looking somewhat youthful in a + new coat of black paint and with a huge American flag painted on each + topside, slipped quietly out of San Francisco in ballast and for the last + time turned her nose toward Panama. In the brief period given him in which + to overhaul her interior, Terence P. Reardon had accomplished wonders, and + an hour after Mike Murphy had taken his bearings from Point San Pedro and + laid out his course the chief came into the chart room to announce that + the old girl was doing eight knots and, barring unexpected bad weather, + would continue to do it without falling to pieces. “If I could have spint + two thousand dollars more on her,” Terence declared, “I believe I could + get another knot out av her. Time was whin she could do sixteen.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy Ricks, enjoying his afternoon cigar in the snug chart room, snorted + vigorously. “I don't very often take a notion to throw my money into the + sea, Terence,” he reminded his port engineer, “but when I do get that + reckless I limit myself to twenty thousand dollars, and that, in round + figures, is what this old ruin will stand me about the time the torpedo + blows you up on top of the fiddle. However, that is a trifling investment + if we succeed in destroying a late-type German submarine with a couple of + hundred thousand dollars' worth of torpedoes aboard. As a sporting + proposition it's somewhat more expensive than golf, but the excitement + makes up for the added cost.” + </p> + <p> + “The old box is alive with rats and bedbugs,” Murphy complained. + </p> + <p> + “If they annoy you, Mike, my boy, comfort yourself with the thought that + they're all going to be drowned,” Cappy replied gayly. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the old packet wallowed down the coast, the while her crew, under + Mike Murphy's supervision, built gun platforms fore and aft. Following + their completion, the two six-inch guns Cappy had succeeded in getting + from the navy were lifted out of the hold with the aid of the cargo winch + and placed in position, one forward and the other aft. Thereupon the mate + took charge of the <i>Costa Rica,</i> while Mike Murphy drilled his crew + in range finding and celerity in loading the piece. Pointing the gun was + entirely up to Murphy and, needless to state, the task was in capable + hands, as was frequently demonstrated during target practice as they + loafed down the coast. + </p> + <p> + Upon arrival at Panama the <i>Costa Rica's</i> bunkers were replenished + and an extra supply of sacked coal was piled on deck, for with her + patched-up boilers the old steamer was a hog on fuel. Then the mechanics + and carpenters and all men not vitally needed aboard for the remainder of + the voyage were put ashore and furnished with transportation back to San + Francisco by the regular Pacific Mail liner. Next, the name on the bows of + the <i>Costa Rica</i> was painted out, the name boards at each end of her + bridge removed and the raised-letter record of her identity and home port + chipped off her stern; following which Cappy Ricks, Terence P. Reardon and + Michael J. Murphy commended their souls to their Creator, and the <i>Costa + Rica</i> slipped leisurely through the ditch and out into the Caribbean + Sea. + </p> + <p> + Fourteen days later Mike Murphy dropped round to Cappy Ricks' cabin. + “We're in the danger zone, sir,” he announced. “And from now on we're + liable to meet one of the larger type of U-boats that operate a couple of + thousand miles from the base at Zeebrugge.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Cappy replied calmly. “Whether torpedoed or shelled, your + instructions are the same. Forbid the wireless operator to send out a call + for help, heave to immediately and get the men into the boats and away + from the ship. Terry Reardon will remain on duty in the engine room, + provided it isn't wrecked by a torpedo and the engine room crew killed; + you and your gun crew will remain aboard and hide in the forecastle if + it's action front, and in the auxiliary steering-gear house if it's action + rear. I will relieve the quartermaster, take charge of the wheel and + direct the action. If I see that there isn't going to be any action we'll + put on life preservers, jump overboard and be picked up by our men in the + boats. However, something tells me, Mike, that we're going to have a crack + at—” + </p> + <p> + At that very instant something rapped the <i>Costa Rica</i> terrifically + on the starboard side amidships and tore through her with a grinding, + wrenching noise, followed by an explosion. + </p> + <p> + “There's the crack you were speaking of, sir,” Murphy yelled and started + for the door. Cappy Ricks grasped him frantically by the arm. “Was that a + shell or a torpedo?” he cried. His voice, thin and shrill with age, + quavered now with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “It was a shell,” Murphy answered. “Went through the second cabin.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that German belongs to Alden P. Ricks,” Cappy declared, and scurried + for the pilot house. “Out and into life-boats!” he ordered the + quartermaster, and shoved him away from the wheel. “Set her over to slow + speed ahead,” he called to the mate, who was standing stupidly, gazing at + the white puffs of smoke that marked the position of the submarine two + miles off the starboard bow. The mate came to life, jammed over the handle + of the marine telegraph and, obeying an order bellowed to him by Mike + Murphy from the main deck, abandoned the bridge for the boat deck, there + to superintend the task of getting the men away from the ship. + </p> + <p> + His first thrill of excitement having subsided, Cappy carefully drew the + little half curtains on the pilot-house window, leaving a small slit + through which he could observe the submarine without being observed + himself, for it was no part of his plan to disclose to the enemy the fact + that the ship was not entirely deserted—and that the submarine + commander should jump to the conclusion that she was deserted by all hands + was precisely the condition that Cappy desired to bring about. + </p> + <p> + Down in the engine room the indomitable Terence Reardon, with one hand on + the throttle and one eye on the steam gauge, put the <i>Costa Rica</i> + under a dead-slow bell; she seemed scarcely to move, yet she had + sufficient steerage way to enable Cappy to keep her pointed in the general + direction of the submarine, the commander of which, seeing the crew of the + Costa Rica scurrying for the boats, contented himself with sending over + half a dozen shells for the purpose of hurrying them along; then he ceased + firing, and when the boats pulled out from the ship in tow of a motor + lifeboat and his powerful glasses showed neither guns nor sign of life + upon the <i>Costa Rica's</i> decks, he did exactly what Cappy Ricks + figured he would do. + </p> + <p> + He circled warily round his prize, but the absence of frantic wireless + calls for help lulled his suspicions, and presently he bore down upon her, + hove to two cable lengths abreast the wallowing hulk and watched her fully + five minutes for a possible trap, for the absence of any name puzzled him. + His suspicions subsided at length, however, the hatch in her turtle deck + slid back and men appeared, dragging up a small collapsible boat. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, slowly—so gradually that it seemed the old vessel was merely + drifting, Cappy brought the <i>Costa Rica</i> round until her bow pointed + toward the submarine. Mike Murphy, standing just inside the forecastle + door, kept his glance on the slit in the curtains on the pilot-house + window-and presently Cappy motioned violently to him. + </p> + <p> + “To the gun!” ordered the captain. Followed by his gun crew he dashed out + of the forecastle and up the companion ladder to the forecastle head. A + jerk at a lever connecting a cunningly constructed set of controls, and + the false topsides on the forecastle head flopped to the deck, revealing + Mike Murphy's six-inch gun. Cappy saw him deflect the gun while another + man traversed it; for five seconds his eyes pressed the sight, and when + the gun remained motionless Cappy knew that the hull of the submarine was + looming fairly on the intersection of the cross wires in the sight. The + range was point-blank! + </p> + <p> + Quick as were Murphy and his crew, however, the gun crew of the submarine + was quicker. Before the <i>Costa Rica's</i> gun was properly laid, a shell + from the submarine flew a foot over the heads of the Murphyites and burst + fifty yards beyond the ship. “Ah, missed!” breathed Michael J. and raised + his hand. The gunner released the firing pin and the six-inch projectile + with which the gun had been loaded for two days crashed into the submarine + at her water line. + </p> + <p> + A terrific explosion followed the shot. Cappy Ricks, gazing popeyed with + horror, saw the submarine disintegrate and disappear in a huge + water-spout; when the water settled only a vast and widening smear of + heavy fuel oil showed where she had been. + </p> + <p> + From the forecastle head Michael Murphy yelled to Cappy Ricks. “Well, are + you satisfied, sir?” On his part, Cappy, jubilant, even in the instant + when he knew thirty new faces were already whining round the devil, dashed + out on the bridge, seized the whistle cord and swung on it. A sad, + nautical sob from the <i>Costa Rica's</i> siren answered him, and ten + seconds later Terence Reardon whistled up the bridge. Cappy let go the + whistle cord and took up the speaking tube. “Hello,” he piped. + </p> + <p> + “What the divil do ye mean be blowin' that whistle?” roared Terence, + thinking he was addressing the mate. “Wit' me alone in the engine room how + d'ye expect me to keep shteam up on this ould hooker wit' you blowin' it + off in the whistle! Take shame to yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Mike sunk the submarine! Mike sunk the submarine!” Cappy shrilled over + and over again. “Come up, Terence, and see the oil. See the oil, Terence, + see the oil! Mike sunk the submarine, Mike sunk it. Bully for Mike! Oh, + bully! Bully! Bully! Mike sunk it, but I schemed it. Come up, Terence, I'm + going to faint.” + </p> + <p> + And then, with shrill yips of delirious delight he slid down the companion + to the main deck, to be gathered in Michael J. Murphy's arms and hugged + and passed to the gun crew, who hoisted him to their shoulders and paraded + joyously and blasphemously round the deck. + </p> + <p> + “I told you he wouldn't use a torpedo if he could do the trick with + shells,” Gappy shouted. “I told you he'd board us if we didn't wireless + for help. Ha, ha, ha! Te-hee!” And he burst into shrill cachinnations. “I + out-thought the scoundrel—goin' to get a patent on my idea—turn + it over to the Government—oh, Mike! Oh, Terence! Get the steward + back aboard. We must have some liquor. They used to serve grog in the old + navy after a victory, didn't they? Yi-yi-yi!” + </p> + <p> + Terence P. Reardon came up and proffered his greasy paw, the while his + quizzical glance swept the oily sea. “Well, sor,” he remarked + philosophically, “what wit' bein' a Christian I'm a little bit sorry the + Dutchman lost, but back av that again I'm a little bit glad we won. + Michael, do you get those blackguards o' mine down below as quick as ye + can, or we'll be all day gettin' shteam up agin in this ould brute av a + ship.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXI + </h2> + <p> + Two days passed uneventfully; then shortly before sunset on the third day + the look-out reported a periscope about a thousand yards distant and three + points off the port bow. Cappy Ricks' old knees promptly commenced to + knock together with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where Terence gets that torpedo if he doesn't come up out of the + engine room,” Mike Murphy remarked laconically, and promptly whistled + Terence on the engine room speaking tube. “Come up or be blown up,” he + yelled. + </p> + <p> + “Divil a fear! We're comin',” Terence replied. + </p> + <p> + The chief and his crew had just reached the deck when the black shining + turtleback of the submarine broke water. + </p> + <p> + “They have to come to the surface to discharge a torpedo,” Murphy + explained to Cappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + “Great Godfrey! Here it comes!” shrilled Cappy, and watched, fascinated, + the wake of the torpedo as it raced toward them. Just as Terence Reardon + and his engine crew came panting up on the bridge, the old <i>Costa Rica</i> + walked into it. “Me ingine room! I knew it!” cried Terence. Then the + explosion came. + </p> + <p> + From where he lay on his back, half stunned, Cappy Ricks saw water and + wreckage fly high in the air. The <i>Costa Rica</i> shivered. So did + Cappy. Then the debris descended, and Cappy, choked with salt water, dimly + realized that Terence Reardon had him in his arms and was carrying him + down to the boat deck, where the motor lifeboat swung wide in the davits. + </p> + <p> + “Here, take the boss from me,” Terence commanded, and passed Cappy to a + negro fireman, who carried the old man forward and laid him on a pile of + blankets, previously placed there for just such an emergency. + </p> + <p> + Then the lifeboat commenced to drop away from the towering black topside + and Cappy was aware of Michael J. Murphy's face—white, anxious, + terrified—gazing down at him from the ship's rail. + </p> + <p> + “I'm just suffering from the shock,” Cappy called. “Mike, you 'tend to + business. Remember what I told you and tell the crew to keep their mouths + shut. He'll do the natural thing and walk into your hand.” + </p> + <p> + Murphy, reassured, waved his hand, and with his gun crew fled aft to the + little house that protected the auxiliary steering gear from the weather, + where they concealed themselves. In the meantime the other lifeboats had + been lowered away; the painter from the third boat was passed to the + second, which in turn passed its painter to the motor boat, and the ship's + company hauled clear of the shattered, sinking ship. The <i>Costa Rica</i> + was going down by the head, and Cappy, curious as any human being, sat up + to watch his decoy disappear. + </p> + <p> + The submarine steamed up to them. “What vessel is that?” her commander + shouted from the conning tower in excellent English. + </p> + <p> + “The American steamer <i>Soak-it-to-'em</i>, of Rotten Row,” Cappy Ricks + replied, “carrying a cargo of post holes. She has three decks and no + bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you spell the name?” the German bawled. + </p> + <p> + “Can't hear you,” Cappy fibbed. Then, <i>sotto voce</i>, to Mr. Reardon: + “Kick her ahead, Terry.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you spell the name?” the submarine captain repeated. + </p> + <p> + Cappy jibbered something unintelligible, and Mr. Reardon added to the + puzzle by bellowing the information that the <i>p</i> was silent, as in + pneumonia. All this time the motor boat was putting distance between + itself and the submarine, and the disgusted German, as a last resort, + steamed away and circled round the rapidly lifting stern of the doomed <i>Costa + Rica</i>, confident that there he would find the record of her identity + and home port—information which, in his methodical German way, he + desired to include in his official report to the Admiralty. And while he + ratched slowly past, striving to find with his binoculars that which was + not, Michael J. Murphy and his bully boys came aft with a rush, tore aside + the tarpaulin that screened the stern gun and expeditiously opened fire. + To Cappy Ricks' horror Murphy's first shot was a clean miss, and instantly + the big sub started to submerge with a hoarse sucking sound that brought + despair to Cappy Ricks' heart. She was halfway under before Murphy's gun + was reloaded, but quite calmly the gun was traversed and deflected until + the black stern flashed across the intersection of the wires in the sight; + then Murphy's hand dropped and the gun roared. + </p> + <p> + “That'll do nicely, lads,” he told his crew. “Tore the stern off her that + time; and from this dive she'll not come up. Cappy Ricks was right. He + banked on human nature, and if curiosity isn't a human trait then I'm a + Chinaman. Overboard with you, and away before the old girl goes under or + we'll be sucked down in the vortex.” + </p> + <p> + And overboard they went, to be picked up five minutes later by Terence and + Cappy in the motor lifeboat. “You were right, Mr. Ricks,” cried Murphy as + he scrambled into the boat. “Curiosity killed the cat!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and it's blamed near killed me,” Cappy declared feebly. “Some of + that debris came down and hit me a slap on the dome—Jerusalem! There + goes my decoy—peace to her bones!” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Costa Rica</i> dove to the Port of Missing Ships. Michael J. + Murphy, however, did not turn to see her disappear; he was gazing, + instead, at a thin red trickle that came from under Cappy's cap band and + was running down his wizened neck. “Mr. Ricks,” he said anxiously, “you're + wounded.” + </p> + <p> + Cappy rubbed the sore spot, and when he withdrew his fingers they were + bloody. + </p> + <p> + “By the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet!” he gasped wonderingly. “You're right, + Mike. I've been wounded in action with the enemies of my country! So help + me, Mike. I've actually lived to shed my blood for the Stars and Stripes, + like any other Ricks.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed wonderingly at Mike Murphy. “Now I can die happy,” he murmured. + “I've done my bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, begorra,” rumbled Terence P. Reardon, “an' if I have my way about it + ye're honorably discharged from the service this minute, Misther Ricks. + I'll gallivant no more wit' you in ye're ould breadbaskets av shteamers. + 'Tis highly dangerous an' no business for a man of family.” + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy grinned at his colleague. “For all that, Terence,” he + declared, “you must admit that Mr. Ricks' scheme for destroying submarines + is the only practical one yet devised.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for ye, Michael. But shtill, like all fine invintions, the idjea + has its dhrawbacks. Now if we could only be sure av a continyous supply av + ould ships for use as decoys—” + </p> + <p> + “I see a smudge of smoke,” cried Gappy Ricks. + </p> + <p> + Mike Murphy followed the old man's pointing finger. “There's only one kind + of boat makes a smudge like that,” he declared; “and it's a destroyer. + Safe and well out of a glorious adventure. Faith, we're the lucky devils; + and by this and by that, I'll enlist aboard that destroyer, now that I'm + here on the job.” + </p> + <p> + “Do—an' good luck to you!” murmured Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said Cappy Ricks, and fingered his trifling but honorable wound. + “Gosh!” he murmured. “If Skinner could only know a thrill like this!” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cappy Ricks Retires, by Peter B. 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