"How about some Mexican or Central American business—general cargo?" Matt suggested.

"Pretty hard stuff to get. The Pacific Mail has most of the Central American business; and, owing to the political situation in Mexico, that trade is practically killed. Every vessel that gets in there has trouble with one faction or the other; they're liable to confiscate, and then we'd have to call on the navy to get our ship back for us."

"I'll look round for a grain charter to Honolulu and return with sugar or general cargo."

"We might do that," Cappy suggested, brightening. "Good luck to you, Matt—and don't be a stranger."



CHAPTER XXXVII. MATT PEASLEY BECOMES A SHIPOWNER

A youth thrust a wary nose into Cappy Ricks' private office and announced Captain Matt Peasley was desirous of admittance.

"Show him in," Cappy ordered, and Matt entered.

"Well, young man," said Cappy briskly, "sit down and tell me of your adventures during your first week as a business man. Of course, I hear from Florry that you have opened a dink of an office somewhere—got desk space with the Alaskan Codfish Corporation, haven't you, with the use of their telephone, stenographer and general office boy?"

"Yes, sir. The manager, Slade, is a native of Thomaston—never knew anything but fish all his life; and, inasmuch as I was raised on the Grand Banks, I got in the habit of drifting round there occasionally, and Slade offered me the privilege of making it my headquarters. Ten dollars a month—cheap enough."

"Yes, considering the aroma of codfish that goes with it, free-gratis," Cappy admitted dryly; "but then I suppose that's what attracted you in the first place. But have you done any real business, Matt?"

"Well, I've arranged with several good old-line insurance companies to accept any marine-insurance business I may bring in, though I haven't sold any yet; neither have I been able to find a load for your Tillicum. By the way, you have a little old three-legged schooner laid up in Oakland Inner Harbor."

"I have three of them—more's the pity!" Cappy replied—"the Ethel Ricks, the Nukahiva and the Harpoon. Which one do you mean?"

"The Ethel Ricks. She's the only one I examined closely. Would you consider selling her?"

"Ah," said Cappy, "I perceive. Your friend Slade wants her for a codfisher, eh?"

"That's all she's good for now, Mr. Ricks. She has had her day in the lumber trade; the steam schooners have relegated her to a final resting place in the ooze of Oakland Inner Harbor; her class of windjammers is a thing of the past for general cargo. She's been laid up now for three years. True, her bottom is coppered and you dry-dock her every year; but that's an expense. And then you must consider taxes and depreciation, and sooner or later, if she lies in the mud long enough, the Teredo will eat her up; so it occurred to me that you might be glad to sell. She was built in 1883, but she was built to last—"

"Never built a cheap ship in my life and never ran 'em cheap," Cappy challenged proudly. "The Ethel Ricks is in the discard, but she's as sound a little packet as you'll find anywhere. She's had the best of care. The same is true of the Harpoon and the Nukahiva."

"What do you want for her?"

"Four thousand dollars," Cappy answered promptly.

"I was offered the Dandelion for three thousand; she's ten years younger than the Ethel Ricks and in very good condition. Sorry, but I guess you'll have to keep the Ethel—and let me tell you, the longer you keep her the less she's worth. However, I guess she doesn't owe you anything."

"No; she paid for herself more'n twice," Cappy replied.

"Then if you get three thousand for her it's like finding the money and losing a worry."

"Sold!" said Cappy.

"I didn't say I'd buy," Matt warned him. "What do you want for the Harpoon and the Nukahiva?"

"They're all sister ships. Three thousand each."

"I am empowered to make you an offer of twenty-seven hundred and fifty dollars each for the three!" Matt shot at him.

"Net? The three of them?" Cappy was all attention now; for selling schooners in lots of three was decidedly new and interesting.

"Hardly! Five per cent to me. Remember I'm a ship, freight and marine insurance broker, and I'm not working for my health. Why, I haven't even suggested any other vessels to my clients—and, by the way, they are not codfish people either. I knew you'd want to get rid of these little hookers, so I'm giving you first crack at the bargain."

"Who wants them?" Cappy demanded craftily.

"If I told you that you'd do me the way you did that Seattle broker who tried to put through the charter of the Lion and the Unicorn. When you knew who his clients were you were in position to defy him—and you did!"

"No offense," Cappy retorted innocently. "Don't be so touchy! Is this a cash proposition, Matt?"

"In the hand."

"I accept."

"Then give me a written option," Matt warned him. "No more word-of-mouth business for me with you."

Cappy laughed; and, calling in a stenographer, he dictated the option.

"Now, then, Matt," he said as he signed the option five minutes later and handed it to Matt, "who shall we make out the bills of sale to?"

"To the Pacific Shipping Company. When you're ready telephone me and I'll bring the check round."

"Go get your check now," Cappy ordered. "Skinner will have the bills of sale ready by the time you return. And I do wish to heaven," he added, "that you had called round with this proposition four days ago. I've just had those three schooners dry-docked, cleaned and painted."

"Which is the very reason why I didn't call round until to-day, Mr. Ricks. You can afford that dry-dock bill so much better than—er—the Pacific Shipping Company."

He left, laughing, and proceeded to the office of the Pacific Shipping Company, where he procured a check for eighty-two hundred and fifty dollars and returned to the Blue Star Navigation Company's office. Mr. Skinner had in the meantime prepared proper bills of sale; a notary, with offices in the building, had been called in to attest the signatures of Cappy Ricks and Mr. Hankins, president and secretary respectively of the Blue Star Navigation Company; and when Cappy Ricks handed over the bills of sale to Matt Peasley, together with the Blue Star check for four hundred and twelve dollars and fifty cents—Matt's commission—the latter handed him the certified check of the Pacific Shipping Company.

"Who is the Pacific Shipping Company, Matt?" Cappy queried. "I never heard of them before."

"It's a new company, sir," Matt replied; and, gathering up his bills of sale and the check for his commission, he fled precipitately, leaving Cappy Ricks to adjust his spectacles and examine the check. It was signed: "Pacific Shipping Company, by Matthew Peasley, President."

For a long time Cappy Ricks sat staring at that check. Finally he looked up and saw Mr. Skinner gazing at him. He held out the check and tapped Matt Peasley's signature.

"Get on to that, Skinner, my boy," he said; "get on to that! Matt's gone into the shipping business, and he's making an humble start with three little old antiquated schooners, for which he has paid me more than eight thousand dollars. Now he will go broke!"

"I do not agree with you, Mr. Ricks," Mr. Skinner replied dryly, "for I notice he didn't forget to stick us four hundred and twelve dollars and fifty cents for the privilege of selling him those three schooners! This is the first time I ever heard of anybody's paying the purchaser a commission!"

"The infernal scoundrel!" Cappy shrilled angrily, for Mr. Skinner's assertion carried the hint that Cappy had been outgeneraled. "The Yankee thief!—acting as broker for a company in which he owns all the capital stock! In business a week and he's made over four hundred dollars already, neat and nice, and as clean as a hound's tooth! Can you beat it?"

"It's better than being a port captain for the Blue Star Navigation Company at three hundred a month," Mr. Skinner suggested wistfully.

He had worked for a salary all his days, and after passing the thirty mark he had lost the courage to leap into the commercial fray and be his own man. He wished he might have been endowed at birth with a modicum of Matt Peasley's courage and reckless disregard of consequences.



CHAPTER XXXVIII. WORKING CAPITAL

It was nearly ten weeks before Cappy Ricks laid eyes on Matt Peasley again. Inquiry from Florry elicited the information that Matt had gone to Mexico as skipper of his own schooner, the Harpoon, bound on some mysterious business.

"He's taken the old Harpoon down there to stick a Mexican—I'll bet a hat on that!" Cappy reflected. "I'll bet he'll have a tale to tell when he gets back."

There came a day when Matt, looking healthy and happy, dropped in for a social call.

"Well, young man," Cappy greeted him, "give an account of yourself. How do you find business?"

"The finest game in the world," Matt replied heartily. "I had the Ethel Ricks snaked out of the mud and hauled out on the marine railway, where I bossed a gang of riggers and sailmakers for a week, getting her gear in shape while she was having a gas engine and tanks for the distillate installed. Then I gave her a dab of paint here and there, sweetened her up, and sold her to Slade, of the Alaska Codfishing Corporation, at a net profit of fifteen hundred dollars over her total cost to me. Nearly two thousand for my first month in business. Not so bad, eh?"

"You'll do better after a while," Cappy remarked dryly. "I hear you've been to Mexico. How about it, boy?"

"I took the Harpoon down myself, and hired a skipper to take the Nukahiva. Before doing so, however, I overhauled their gear and installed gas engines in them also—only I'd learned something by this time. I bought second-hand engines, rebuilt, but with a guaranty, and they cost me a thousand dollars less than new engines. In conversation with Captain Kirk, of the steamer San Blas, I had heard that a company in Guaymas was thinking of buying a couple of little coasting schooners, putting gas engines in them, and adding these crafts to their fleet running out of Guaymas to Mazatlan, Topolobampo, and way ports. So I went down, put my schooners under the Mexican flag, and started opposition. The old-established company went to the local military commander and tried to get him to commandeer my vessels for the use of the government, which pays in depreciated shinplasters that may be worth something some day a hundred years from now."

"Whew-w-w!" Cappy whistled. "That was a narrow squeak, Matt. How did you dodge it?"

"I had the local military commander on my payroll, with good American gold, before I ever started anything. I knew he'd come to shake me down; so I anticipated him and made a monthly donation to the cause of liberty. I do not know for certain, but I imagine he went south with it himself, though I do not begrudge the amount. I only paid him for one month anyhow. By that time I had an offer to sell out; and I did, reluctantly, but for real money and at a much better figure than if I had not made it an object for them to buy. I got out with a net profit of seventy-four hundred and fifty dollars on the two schooners. Not so bad, eh, Mr. Ricks? Over nine thousand dollars in less than three months? Of course, I realize I could not have made that much if I hadn't had the funds with which to speculate."

Cappy nodded. Words were beyond him for the time being. Finally he said:

"Matt, that was pure gambling, though you think it was a speculation. It was mighty poor business, even if you did emerge with a fancy profit. You might have been cleaned out."

"Yes; and if the hare hadn't stopped to take a nap the tortoise would not have won the race," Matt replied. "So far as I can see, all business is a gamble and every investment is a bet; hence, a good business man is a good gambler."

Cappy Ricks sighed.

"There is a special providence," he said, "that looks after fools, drunken men and sailors."



CHAPTER XXXIX. EASY MONEY

Captain Matt Peasley's first act after consummating his first successful deal was to purchase for the Pacific Shipping Company a membership in the Merchants' Exchange, on the floor of which he knew he would meet daily all the shipping men of San Francisco, and thus be enabled to keep in touch with trade conditions.

He had been a member less than a week when the wisdom of spending five hundred dollars for his membership was made delightfully apparent. While he stood watching the secretary chalk on the blackboard the record of the latest arrivals and departures, he heard a man behind him speaking:

"Heyfuss, I'm in the market to charter another freighter for the Panama run. You might look round and see whether you can line something up for us. I'd like about a two-thousand-ton boat; and we could charter her for a year."

"There's only one vessel available," the man addressed as Heyfuss answered; "and that's the Tillicum. Cappy Ricks had her laid up in Oakland Creek—"

Matt moved away and approached a clerk at the desk.

"That dark-haired man with the thick glasses, talking with Mr. Heyfuss," he said—"who is he?"

"That is Mr. Henry Kelton, manager of G. H. Morrow Company," the clerk answered. "They operate a line of sailing vessels foreign and half a dozen steamers to South American ports."

Matt thanked him, entered a telephone booth and on consulting the telephone directory, discovered that J. O. Heyfuss was a broker.

"I'll have to step lively to beat Heyfuss to it," he soliloquized, and forthwith hastened down to the office of the Blue Star Navigation Company.

"Well, young man!" Cappy greeted him genially. "How about you?"

"Never mind me. How about the Tillicum?"

"Laid up in Oakland Inner Harbor waiting for better times."

"I think I can give her some business. Would you charter her to the Pacific Shipping Company?"

"Well," Cappy replied, "I might be induced to take a chance in these hard times. How much money have you in bank to-day?"

"In a pinch I could lay my hands on thirty thousand, cash."

"Well," said Cappy thoughtfully, "that little roll, plus an established credit and a reputation for business experience, might carry you far with some people—but not with me. You're not a safe bet—yet; but we can make it safe."

"How?"

"You can pay the charter money in advance," Cappy answered smilingly.

"I have decided not to do any more gambling, Mr. Ricks. Hereafter, as near as such a thing may be humanly possible, I'm going to play a sure thing. Therefore, all things being equal, if I can guarantee you your price for the steamer, on a year's charter, you do not care what I do with the vessel, provided that I do not injure her?"

"Certainly."

"Well, then, in order to play safe and protect you, suppose I charter her from you, contingent on my ability to recharter her to some responsible shipping firm. Under those conditions would you exact the charter money in advance? You know very well that when I collect my money from the charterers you'll get yours right away."

"Without question, Matt; but sometimes a fellow cannot collect his money from the charterers, and then the owner has to wait. I'm taking no chances to speak of on you, Matthew, my son; but for the sake of making it a sporting proposition I'll talk business on the basis of fifty per cent. of the charter money, payable monthly in advance."

"That's cold-blooded, but I can stand it. What is the Tillicum going to cost me a day?"

"What kind of charter do you want—government form or bare boat?"

"You might give me an option with a price based on each form. I haven't the slightest idea what form my prospective victim prefers, though I prefer a bare-boat charter. I will close with you on whatever basis he prefers, if that is satisfactory."

"I'll make many concessions to get that vessel out of the mud and to sea, and paying a reasonable rate on the money invested in her. I hate to keep a good skipper and a good chief engineer on the beach, and I want them to begin drawing their salaries again."

Cappy reached into his desk and produced a little loose-leaf memorandum book, and from certain figures therein contained he commenced to figure what he should charge Matt for the ship. On his part, Matt, whose apprenticeship under the Blue Star had made him tolerably familiar with every steamer in the fleet, got out a pad and pencil and commenced to figure the cost of operation himself. Not knowing the cost of the steamer or the ratio of profit Cappy might expect on the investment, however, he was more or less at sea until Cappy had named his figures; whereupon Matt pretended to do some more figuring. Finally he frowned and said:

"Fifty dollars a day too much."

He did not know a thing about it, but he knew Cappy Ricks well enough to know that Cappy would first decide on his minimum price and then add a hundred dollars a day for good measure; hence, Yankeelike, Matt commenced to chaffer, with the result that before he left the office Cappy had abated his price fifty dollars a day and given Matt a forty-eight-hour option on the vessel, agreeing to charter her to him at the figures specified, contingent on Matt's ability to recharter her to a responsible firm.

Cappy chuckled as Matt Peasley left the office.

"You're taking a pretty big bite, Matt," he soliloquized; "so I'll handicap you. And if anything goes wrong, and you fail to collect from your people, I'll give you a lesson in high finance that you'll never forget, young man! I'll bet my immortal soul you're going to try to do business with Morrow & Company; and if that outfit isn't scheduled for involuntary bankruptcy, then I'm a Chinaman. A charter for a year, eh? They'll never last a year. They'll bust, owing you a month's charter money, Matthew, and the vessel will be at sea, most likely, or in a South American port, when that happens; and you can't throw her back on me until you deliver her in her home port. And meantime your charter to me keeps rambling right along, and I'll attach your bankroll if you're a day late with your payment in advance. Yes, sir; I'll break you in two for the good of your immortal soul. Matt—Matt, my son—something tells me you're monkeying with fire and liable to get burned."

From Cappy Ricks' office Matt Peasley called on Kelton of Morrow & Company. Kelton, a shrewd, double-action sort of person and the smartest shipping man on the street, looked with frank curiosity at Matt's modest card.

"Pacific Shipping Company, eh? That's a new one on me, Captain Peasley," he said.

"It's a new one on me also," Matt replied humorously; "in fact, it is too recent to be very well known. We've been operating a fleet of windjammers, with auxiliary power, down on the Mexican Coast," he added truthfully, calm in the knowledge that two schooners constitute a fleet if one be not inclined to split conversational hairs; "but we sold them and decided to go into the steamship business. We hope to buy or build a line of freighters to run to Atlantic Coast ports via the Panama Canal."

"What steam vessels have you got now?" Kelton queried interestedly.

"Only one at present, Mr. Kelton. We've acquired the Tillicum, late of the Blue Star fleet."

"Indeed!" replied Kelton.

He was all attention now; for, though Matt Peasley did not know it, less than ten days previous Kelton had tried to charter the Tillicum direct from Cappy Ricks, who, knowing something of the financial condition of Morrow & Company, had declined to consider a charter unless under a guaranty of payment other than that of Morrow & Company. Kelton was in urgent need of a steamer to cope with the congestion of freight, and the Tillicum suited the purpose of his company admirably; hence, the news that he might still be able to acquire her filled him with sudden hope.

"Indeed!" he reiterated. "I had no idea Cappy Ricks contemplated selling her, though it has been common talk on the street that he made a mistake in building such a big boat as the Tillicum for the coastwise lumber trade. She was too hard to find business for, and I dare say he was sick of his bargain."

"Well, I thought we'd take a chance on her," Matt replied, not taking the trouble to disabuse Kelton of the impression to which he had apparently jumped—to wit, that the Pacific Shipping Company had purchased the Tillicum.

"What do you intend doing with her?" Kelton continued.

"They tell me business is good on the Panama run, and it will be better when the Canal is opened. However, until the Canal does open, we would prefer to keep out of the Pacific Coast trade. Competition always means a rate war, with consequent loss to both parties to the struggle; so we'd rather charter the Tillicum for a year if we could. I heard you were in the market for a boat."

"I think we might use the Tillicum," Kelton replied. "What are you asking for her?"

Matt named a figure considerably in advance of what he expected to receive and stipulated a bare-boat charter—that is to say, Kelton's company should pay the entire cost of operating the vessel, and select her crew and officers with the exception of the captain and chief engineer, it being customary among many owners, when chartering a vessel, to stipulate that their own captain, in whom they have confidence, shall command her. Cappy Ricks always specified his own skipper and chief engineer.

When Matt named his figure Kelton promptly shouted "Thief!" but made the mistake of shouting too loud—whereat Matt Peasley knew he was not sincere and promptly decided to outgame him. At the end of half an hour of argument and much futile figuring, which deceived nobody, Matt abated his price twenty-five dollars a day and Kelton said he would think it over. Matt knew the charter was as good as closed, and when he left Morrow & Company's office he repaired straight to that of Cappy Ricks.

"I think I'll be able to recharter, Mr. Ricks," he said confidently. "Have you any objection to Morrow & Company as recharterers?"

Cappy started slightly, hesitated a fraction of a second, and replied that he had no objection whatsoever.

"Very well, sir," Matt replied. "Will you please have Mr. Skinner prepare the charter parties right away, sign them, and send them over to my office for my signature? I can't wait to sign them now. And about the captain—I suppose you'll want to put in your own skipper, of course. Who is he?"

"Captain Grant."

"Have you any objection to inserting a clause in the charter party stipulating that, if for any reason Captain Grant proves objectionable to the charterers, I may take command of the vessel myself? As charterer I will have a very vital interest in the vessel and I might feel called on to protect that interest personally."

"Matt," said Cappy earnestly, "I'll trust you in preference to most men with any ship of mine. Still, Grant is a very able man."

"He might be too slow for me, Mr. Ricks. I prefer to have a spare anchor in case of necessity."

"Well, have it your own way," Cappy acquiesced, and summoned Mr. Skinner to prepare the charter parties, while Matt went back to his own office and gave instructions that he was not to be called to the telephone.

Something told him that Kelton would be ringing up before the day was over to accept his price on the Tillicum, and he did not want to be placed in the position of having to give a yes or no answer until he had seen Cappy Ricks' charter parties, with Cappy's signature attached. He would then close up his deal with Morrow & Company, after which he would sign Cappy's charter parties and turn two copies over to Cappy. In this way he would be enabled to play safe and save his face in case any hitch occurred at the last minute.

The charter parties, duly signed and in triplicate, arrived from Cappy Ricks in the morning's mail, with a request from Cappy for Matt to append his signature to two copies and return them to the Blue Star Navigation Company. Matt, after first assuring himself that the instrument was in order, called up Kelton, who informed him that he would accept Matt's offer for a year's charter of the Tillicum. Within half an hour Matt had his charter parties ready for Kelton's signature and the deal was closed; whereupon Matt signed the charter party Cappy Ricks had sent him and handed it to Cappy, together with a check for nine thousand dollars—one half the monthly rental of the Tillicum.

Cappy whistled softly through his teeth as he handed the documents to Mr. Skinner and instructed him to put the Tillicum in commission at once.



CHAPTER XL. THE CATACLYSM

For two voyages all went well. The Tillicum was engaged in carrying general cargo to Panama for reshipment over the Panama Railroad to Colon, at which point it was reshipped in steamers to ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Following the universal custom, Matt's charter with Morrow & Company stipulated settlement in full every thirty days, whereas his charter with Cappy Ricks, for reasons best known to Cappy, stipulated payment in full every fifteen days; which arrangement operated to keep nine thousand dollars of Matt's money in Cappy's hands continuously. This fact graveled Matt whenever he reflected that money was worth at least seven per cent.; but, since he was making sixty dollars a day profit as the result of his deal, he concluded not to mention this point to Cappy Ricks.

Morrow & Company met the first monthly payment with cash on the nail. At the second settlement, however, when Matt called for his check, Kelton requested, as a special favor, that Matt allow him four days' time. A clever talker, with a peculiarly winning way about him, he disarmed suspicion very readily, and Matt assured him he would be very glad indeed to extend him such a slight courtesy.

Meantime, however, Cappy Ricks had to be reckoned with; so, in order not to keep him waiting, Matt sent him another check for nine thousand dollars. Cappy now had eighteen thousand dollars of Matt's money; and on the fourth day, when the latter called on Kelton for his check, the latter actually made him feel ashamed of himself for calling and sent him away with one-half of the sum now overdue! This perturbed Matt somewhat, but when he showed some slight indication of it Kelton playfully picked up a glass paper weight and threatened to destroy him if he did not get out of the office at once; so, because it is difficult to be serious with a man who declines to take one seriously, Matt forced a grin and departed, with the light intimation that he would return in three days, and if the check was not forthcoming then he would fresco Kelton's office with the latter's life-blood.

"Get out!" shouted Kelton laughingly. "I know money is tight and I don't blame you for being Fido-at-the-rat-hole; but if you bother me about that check for a week I'll not speak to you."

So Matt waited a week, and then the check reached him by mail, with a courteous note from Kelton thanking him for his leniency. It seemed to Matt he had scarcely acknowledged the receipt of that check before he had to give Cappy Ricks another nine thousand dollars!

Morrow & Company were late again on the third month, but this time they did not wait to be dunned. On the day before the payment was due Kelton took Matt Peasley to luncheon and in the course of the meal he informed Matt, quite casually, that he would be a little late with his check. With two dollars' worth of his genial host's food under his belt, Matt felt that it would be rude, to say the least, if he insisted on settlement; so he said:

"Oh, don't worry about that, old man! Give it to me as soon as you can, because I'm a little pinched myself."

Nevertheless, Matt was beginning to worry, for his acquaintance throughout the trade had extended rapidly, due to his propensity for making friends, and he had heard one or two little rumors that Morrow & Company had bitten off more than they could chew in a few big deals of late and had been badly pinched; in fact, to such an extent did Matt ponder on the possibility of the company's going into the hands of the receiver, leaving his thirty thousand dollars to disappear into the ravening maw of the Blue Star Navigation Company, that he forgot to send Cappy his check for nine thousand dollars the day it was due. And the next morning Cappy himself called up and, in a voice that seemed to come straight from a cold-storage plant, asked him what he meant by it, and requested him—though to Matt it sounded like a peremptory demand—to send the check over at once. So angry and humiliated did Matt feel as a result of this dun, he could not trust himself to call with the check but sent it by special delivery.

The Tillicum had returned from her second voyage to Panama and was about to commence loading her third cargo when another payment fell due. To Matt's chagrin Kelton again pleaded for delay; and again Matt settled with Cappy Ricks prior to collecting from Morrow & Company. Kelton had promised a check on the following Wednesday, and on the appointed day Matt called, only to be met with a request for further delay. Kelton explained that Mr. Morrow had been taken very ill and things were at sixes and sevens in the office as a result. Could not Matt wait until Saturday, when Mr. Morrow would be back to sign a check?

"What's wrong with Morrow?" Matt demanded pointedly. "Has he got paralysis of the right hand?"

"Worse than that," Kelton answered seriously. "He's on the verge of nervous prostration."

"But can't you sign a check?"

"Y-e-s; but Mr. Morrow generally attends to all financial details."

"Well, we'll excuse him from attending to this detail," Matt replied. "I want a check and I want it now, because it is a week overdue; the vessel is nearly loaded and about to go to sea, and if I do not get my money—"

"Well, suppose I give you half of it now and the other half in a day or two?" Kelton suggested.

He looked worried and unhappy, and Matt felt sorry for him; for, indeed, Kelton was a likable chap and perfectly trustworthy, and Matt sensed some of the worry that was falling on the manager in his desperate efforts to run a business on short capital. However, Matt's own financial shoestring was too short for him to afford any sentiment, though, for the reason that he was naturally kind-hearted and considerate, he consented to accept a check for half the amount due and left Kelton to the society of the many devils which seemed to be tormenting him.

On the sidewalk he paused suddenly. So Morrow was on the verge of nervous prostration, eh? That was bad. It had been Matt's experience that, as a usual thing, but two things conduce to bring about nervous prostration—overwork and worry; and in Morrow's case it must be worry, for Kelton did all the work! Kelton, too, looked haggard and drawn.

"I must be very careful," Matt told himself, "for if that concern should go broke while the Tillicum is en route to Panama my charter to Morrow & Company may be considered to have terminated automatically; and if they go under owing me from ten to twenty thousand dollars, I'm still responsible to Cappy Ricks for my charter of the Tillicum until I can bring her back to her home port and turn her back to him. Thank God for that clause in the charter which gives me the privilege of terminating my charter with Cappy in case Morrow & Company terminate their charter with me! It will be all right if they terminate it while the vessel is in San Francisco; but if she's very far from home I'll most certainly be eaten alive while I'm getting her back to Cappy!"

He returned to his office and went into a long executive session with himself, from which he aroused presently and went down to the dock where the cargo was pouring into the hold of the Tillicum. Here he consulted with the captain and the purser, and obtained a list of all persons, firms or corporations which had furnished supplies of any kind to the deck department of the steamer. From the chief engineer he procured a similar list of those who had furnished supplies to the engine department; and, armed with this information, he returned to his office and dictated the following form letter:

Gentlemen:—Please take notice that we as charterers of the steamer Tillicum from the Blue Star Navigation Company, and as recharterers to Messrs. G. H. Morrow & Company, will not be responsible for the payment to you of any bills for supplies or stores, of any nature whatsoever, furnished to the said steamer Tillicum since she has been under charter to said G. H. Morrow & Company. Any bills contracted with you by G. H. Morrow & Company for account of the Tillicum must be paid to you by G. H. Morrow & Company. This notice is hereby given you in order that we may go on record as disclaiming any responsibility as charterers prior to the departure of the said steamer Tillicum on her next voyage.

Yours very truly, PACIFIC SHIPPING COMPANY, By Matthew Peasley, President.

A copy of this letter Matt sent by registered mail, with a request for a return registry receipt, to each of the creditors of the Tillicum of whom he could get track. He had all the receipts in hand by the last mail delivery the next day, and at eight o'clock that night the Tillicum, having cleared the customs the same afternoon, departed for Panama. Two days later Matt again called on Morrow & Company for the money due him and, after much argument, succeeded in getting it. He hastened at once to the bank on which it was drawn and asked the paying teller to certify it. This the latter declined to do—neither would he cash the check; so Matt took it back to Kelton.

"Kelton," he said, "the bank will not honor your check."

Kelton looked desperate.

"Confound you!" he growled. "I stalled you until five minutes before the bank closed, thinking you would deposit it in your own bank to-morrow morning and I'd have a deposit to cover it by that time. It will be all right first thing in the morning, Peasley."

"It had better be!" Matt told him bluntly. "Your charter provides for cancellation in the event that payments are not made as stipulated, and I'm not in a position to carry you or to take any chances on you—and I'm not going to."

"I can't blame you a bit," Kelton answered regretfully. "I tell you, with the money market as tight as it is, we're beating the devil round the stump these days. Confound it, Peasley, a man has to do some scheming and stalling when everybody is crowding him for money, doesn't he?"

The check was not paid when Matt presented it the next morning. As he came out of the bank a newsboy, crying his daily sensation, accosted him with the first afternoon edition, and Matt's glance caught a smear of red ink seven columns wide across the front page:

SHIPPING MAN A SUICIDE!

It was Morrow!

For about a minute Matt Peasley stood on the corner, doing some of the fastest thinking he had ever done. Morrow had taken a short cut out of his financial worries, and Matt realized that the tragedy would undoubtedly bring an avalanche of creditors down on the unhappy Kelton and ruin the firm. At any rate, the concern would doubtless go into the hands of a receiver, and Matt Peasley might or might not hope for his in the sweet by and by, according to the amount of salvage reported. The Tillicum was seventy-six hours at sea!

"Matthew," Matt Peasley murmured to himself, "'theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die'—and all in one thundering big hurry!"



CHAPTER XLI. WHEN PAIN AND ANGUISH WRING THE BROW

Cappy Ricks was having his siesta, with his feet on top of his desk, when Matt Peasley came bounding in, seized him by the shoulder and shook him wideawake.

"Well, young man," Cappy snapped querulously, "what's all the excitement about?"

"Morrow has committed suicide, and I know the firm is in financial difficulties. I'll not be able to collect now—I'll have to wait with the rest of the creditors; and meantime the Tillicum, fully loaded, is somewhere down off the Mexican coast. Good gracious, Mr. Ricks, there's the very devil to pay!"

"We will, if you please, not include outsiders in this argument for the present, Matt," Cappy retorted dryly. "The unfortunate devil does not pay! You do, Matt. I should worry!"

"But you can help me save something from the wreck!" Matt pleaded desperately. "It's going to clean me of my last dollar to make good with you on my charter, even if Morrow & Company do not make good with me on theirs; and—"

Cappy Ricks held up his hand.

"My dear boy," he said with maddening calm, "listen to me! I had a hunch this would happen. As a matter of fact, I declined to charter to Morrow & Company direct ten days before you came prancing in with your head all swelled up with a brand-new idea for making a lot of easy money in a hurry. Me charter to them—me!" In his superb scorn Cappy waxed ungrammatical. "I should kiss a pig! Why, if sawmills were selling for six bits each I wouldn't trust that concern with a hatful of sawdust—not that they weren't honest and capable, but they haven't got any money to speak of any more!"

"But—but—Why, dad burn it, sir, you said it was perfectly agreeable to you to have me charter the Tillicum to them!" Matt roared, angry, hurt and amazed.

"Why should I worry what you do? I have all I can do to attend to my own business. Why should I tell you yours?"

"But—"

"No ifs or buts, Matt. I played safe; but you're caught away off third base and now you're out! You've got to settle with me for every day you have that vessel under charter until you deliver her back here in San Francisco Bay and formally surrender her to me. You've got to pay me—and what's more, I'm going to see to it that you do! Business is business, my boy."

"Well, I'll pay you all the cash I can and give you my note for the remainder."

"Your note!" Cappy jeered. "Your note! What do I want with your note! Is it hockable at any bank? Huh! Answer me that."

"You needn't insult me!" Matt growled wrathfully.

"Bah!" Cappy sneered. "You think you're mighty smart, don't you, Matt? Do you remember what I told you when you declined to go to work for me and insisted on going into business for yourself? I told you you'd go bust—and you're going right now. All you'll have left in thirty days will be the clothes you stand in and the corporation seal of the Pacific Shipping Company. Ho-ho! Isn't that funny? The idea of a man's paying thirty thousand dollars for a dinky old corporation seal worth two and a half!"

Matt Peasley's face went white with suppressed fury.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I seem to remember some such prophecy; also, some conversation to the effect that I'd be a better business man if I purchased my business experience with my own money. You said there were wolves along California Street that would take my roll away from me so fast it'd surprise me. I must confess, however, that I had no idea you would lead the pack! However, I didn't come here to argue, Mr. Ricks—"

"What did you come for? Sympathy?" Cappy queried. "Because, if you did, you've come to the wrong shop, my boy. Business is business, Matt; I never mix sentiment with it and I advise you never to do it either. Pay your way and take your beating like a sport—that's my policy, Matt."

"Do you want to save the Blue Star Navigation Company some money?" Matt managed to articulate.

"Certainly! Now you're talking business; so I'll listen."

"As charterer of your steamer Tillicum, I find that Captain Grant, the master you installed there, is offensive to me. I object to the way he parts his hair and knots his necktie, and I want a new skipper on the ship."

Cappy Ricks slid out to the edge of his swivel chair, placed a hand on each knee and eyed Matt suspiciously over the rims of his spectacles. After a long silence he shook his head negatively.

"Then I'll sue you!" Matt replied. "There's a clause in the charter party. You've got to do it."

Cappy's mouth flew open.

"Oh, by Judas Priest, that's right," he said, and laughed. "So you're providing a job for yourself after the smoke clears away, eh?" he quizzed. "Well, you can skipper the Tillicum while you keep up the payments of the charter money, Matt; but I give you my word that the day you slip up on a payment, out you go and back Captain Grant goes into the ship. Meantime, however, I think I see now why you inserted that clause. In the event of just such a contingency as the present you wanted the privilege of jumping in and taking command yourself."

Matt nodded.

"Captain Grant is a good man, but old. He can't drive a crew like I can, Mr. Ricks—and, with me on the job, that steamer will be discharged and back in San Francisco Bay from three to five days sooner that she would ordinarily. It means six hundred dollars a day to me, sir, and every day saved is worth that much cash in hand to you, since you profess to think so lightly of my promissory note."

"Enough!" Cappy commanded. "I'll admit that the thought does you credit. It was a mighty bright idea, Matt, and showed fine forethought. Now, then, what are you going to do to save your roll?"

"The City of Para leaves for Panama to-morrow. Give me a letter to Captain Grant, commanding him to turn his ship over to me on presentation of this letter. I will furnish him the funds to pay his transportation back to San Francisco."

"Fair enough," said Cappy; and, calling in a stenographer, he dictated the desired letter.

Ten minutes later Matt Peasley had left the office without the formality of saying good-by to Cappy Ricks, and was in a taxicab en route to his lodgings to pack his steamer trunk and hand baggage. Cappy Ricks chuckled as Matt went angrily out.

"Ah—that first time a man goes broke!" he soliloquized. "What a blow to one's pride! What a shock to the nervous system!" He sighed. "Poor old Matt! Nobody knows better than Cappy Ricks how you feel, because he's been there twice and it blamed near broke his heart each time it happened."

He shook his head with an air of satisfaction, for things were going well with him. He had made a prophecy and it was in a fair way of being fulfilled—nay, its fulfillment was inevitable; whereat Cappy, after the habit of the aged in their conflict with Youth, felt very much like shaking hands with himself. Indeed, so pleased was he that presently he called in Mr. Skinner and related the story in meticulous detail to the general manager.

Mr. Skinner was delighted. More—he was overcome. He sat down and permitted himself the most soul-satisfying laugh he had had in years.



CHAPTER XLII. UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENTS

Mr. Skinner thrust his head into Cappy Ricks' office and said:

"I've just had a telephone message from the Merchants' Exchange. The Tillicum is passing in."

"Then," said Cappy Ricks, "in about two hours at the latest we may expect a mournful visit from Captain Matt Peasley."

"If you don't mind, Mr. Ricks," said Skinner with a smirk, "I should dearly love to be present at the interview."

Cappy smiled brightly.

"By all means, Skinner, my dear boy; by all means, since you wish it. It just about breaks my heart to think of the cargo of grief I'm going to slip that boy; but I have resolved to be firm, Skinner. He owes us eighteen thousand dollars and he must go through with his contract to the very letter, and pay the Blue Star Navigation Company every last cent due it. He will, doubtless, suggest some sort of settlement—ten cents on the dollar—"

"Don't agree to it," Mr. Skinner pleaded. "He has more than a thousand dollars a month going to his credit on our books from the Unicorn charter, and if that vessel stays afloat a year longer we'll be in the clear. Be very firm with him, Mr. Ricks. As you say, it is all for his own benefit and the experience will do him a whole lot of good."

"I love the boy," said Cappy; "but in the present case, Skinner, I haven't any heart. A chunk of anthracite coal is softer than that particular organ this morning. Be sure to show Matt in the minute he comes up from the dock."

Mr. Skinner needed no urging when, less than two hours later, Captain Matt Peasley arrived. Mr. Skinner greeted him courteously and followed him into Cappy's office.

"Well, well, well!" Cappy began unctuously. "How do you do, Matt, my dear boy? Glad to see you; in fact, we're extra glad to see you," he added significantly and winked at Mr. Skinner, who caught the hint and murmured loud enough for Matt Peasley to hear:

"Eighteen thousand dollars to-morrow!"

Cappy extended a hand, which Matt grasped heartily.

"You're looking fit as a fiddle," Cappy continued. "Doesn't look a bit worried—does he, Skinner?"

"I must admit he appears to carry it off very well, Mr. Ricks. We had thought, captain," Skinner continued, turning to Matt Peasley, "that, when Mr. Ricks agreed to permit you to assume command of the Tillicum when she reached Panama, we might have been treated to an exhibition of speed; but the fact of the matter is that instead of economizing on time you are about ten days in excess of the period it would have taken for Captain Grant to have discharged his cargo and gotten back to San Francisco." He winked at Cappy Ricks, who returned the wink.

"You mean in ballast," Matt suggested. Skinner nodded. "Oh, well, that accounts for it," Matt continued serenely. "I came home with a cargo of steel rails."

Cappy Ricks slid out to the extreme edge of his swivel chair; and, with a hand on each knee, he gazed at Matt Peasley over the rims of his spectacles. Mr. Skinner started violently.

"You came home with a cargo of steel rails?" Cappy demanded incredulously.

"Certainly! Do you suppose I would go to the expense of hiring somebody else to skipper the Tillicum while I was there with my license? Not by a jugful! I was saving every dollar I could. I had to."

"Er—er—Where is Captain Grant?" Skinner demanded.

"Captain Grant is free, white and twenty-one. He goes where he pleases without consulting me, Mr. Skinner. He means nothing in my life—so why should I know where he is?"

"You infernal scoundrel!" shrilled Cappy Ricks. "You whaled hell out of him and threw him out on the dock at Panama—that's what you did to him! You took the Tillicum away from him by force."

"Captain Grant is a fine, elderly gentleman, sir," Matt interrupted. "I would not use force on him. He left the ship of his own free will at San Diego, California."

"At San Diego?" Cappy and Skinner cried in unison.

"At San Diego."

"But you said you were going to Panama on the City of Para, the regular passenger liner," Cappy challenged.

"Well, I wasn't committed to that course, sir. After leaving your office I changed my mind. I figured the Tillicum was somewhere off the coast of Lower California; so I wirelessed Captain Grant, explained to him that the ship was back on my hands by reason of the failure of Morrow & Company, and ordered him to put into San Diego for further orders. He proceeded there; I proceeded there; we met; I presented your letter relieving him of his command. Simple enough, isn't it?"

"But what became of him?"

"How should I know, sir? I've been as busy as a bird dog down in Panama. Please let me get on with my story. I had just cleared Point Loma and was about to surrender the bridge to my first mate when an interesting little message came trickling out of the ether—and my wireless boy picked it up, because it was addressed to 'Captain Grant, Master S. S. Tillicum.'"

Cappy Ricks quivered and licked his lower lip, but said nothing.

"That message," Matt continued, "was brought to me by the operator, who really didn't know what to do with it. Captain Grant had left the ship and Sparks didn't know what hotel in San Diego the late master of the Tillicum would put up for the night; so I read the message to see whether it was important, for I felt that it had to do with the ship's business and that I was justified in reading it."

Again Cappy Ricks squirmed. Mr. Skinner commenced to gnaw his thumb nail.

"That message broke me all up," Matt continued sadly. "It destroyed completely my faith in human nature and demonstrated beyond a doubt that there is no such thing in this world as fair play in business. It's like a waterfront fight. You just get your man down and everything goes—kicking, biting, gouging, knee-work!" Matt sighed dolorously and drew from his vest pocket a scrap of paper. "Just listen to this for a message!" He continued. "Just imagine how nice you'd feel, Mr. Ricks, if you were skippering a boat and picked up a message like this at sea:

"'Grant, Master Steamer Tillicum: Gave Captain Matt Peasley a letter to you yesterday ordering you to turn over command of Tillicum to him on presentation or demand. This on his request and on his insistence, as per clause in charter party, copy of which you have. Peasley leaves to-day for Panama on City of Para. This will be your authority for declining to surrender the ship to him when he comes aboard there. Stand pat! Letter with complete instructions for your guidance follows on City of Para.

"Ricks.'"

Cappy Ricks commenced tapping one foot nervously against the other, Mr. Skinner coughed perfunctorily, while Matt withered each with a rather sorrowful glance.

"Of course you can imagine the shock this gave me. I give you my word that for as much as five seconds I didn't know what to do; but after that I got real busy. I swung the ship and came ramping back to San Diego harbor, slipped ashore in the small boat and found Captain Grant at the railroad station buying a ticket for San Francisco. I had to wait and watch the ticket office for an hour before he showed up, and when he did I made him a proposition. I told him that if he would agree to keep away from the office of the Blue Star Navigation Company you might think he was peeved at being relieved of his command so peremptorily, and hence would not attach any importance to his failure to report at the office.

"In consideration of this I gave him my word of honor that he would be restored to his command as soon as I could bring the Tillicum back from Panama, and meantime his salary would continue just the same—in proof of which I gave him a check for two months' pay in advance. He said he thought it all a very queer proceeding; but, since he was no longer in command of the Tillicum, it wasn't up to him to ask questions, and he agreed to my proposition. However, he said he thought he ought to wire the company acknowledging receipt of their instructions with reference to surrendering his command—and I agreed with him that he should. 'But,' I said, 'why bother sending such a message, collect, ashore, when we pay a flat monthly rate to the wireless company for the plant and operator aboard the ship, no matter how many messages we send? Give me your message to Mr. Ricks and when I get back aboard the Tillicum I'll wireless it to him for you, and it won't cost the ship a cent extra.'

"Well, you know your own captains, Mr. Ricks. They'll save their ships a dollar wherever they can; and simple, honest Old Man Grant agreed to my suggestion. Before he had an opportunity to consider I stepped to the telegraph office and wrote this message for him." Matt produced another telegram and read:

"'Blue Star Navigation Company,

"'258 California Street, San Francisco.

"'Instructions with reference to change of masters received.

"Would feel badly if I thought any act of mine necessitated change; but since my conscience is clear I shall not worry. I always have done and always shall do my duty to my owners without thought of my personal interests, and you may rely fully on that in the present emergency.'"

"Well, sir, that sounded so infernally grandiloquent to Old Man Grant that his hand actually trembled with emotion as he signed it—at my suggestion. You know I'd hate to be tried for forgery. Then I shook hands with him and started for Panama once more—only this time I kept right on going; and I didn't spare the fuel oil either. Why should I? It wasn't costing me anything."

Both Cappy and Mr. Skinner winced, as from a blow. Matt waited for them to say something, but they didn't; so after a respectful interval he resumed:

"Off the Coronado Islands I sent you Captain Grant's diplomatic message. I was very glad to send it to you, Mr. Ricks, because I knew its receipt would make you very happy, and I like to scatter happiness wherever I can. The Scriptures say we should return good for evil."

Cappy Ricks bounded to his feet and shook a skinny fist under Matt Peasley's nose.

"You're a damned scoundrel!" he piped, beside himself with rage. "Be careful how you talk to me, young man, or I'll lose my temper; and if I ever do—"

"That would be terrible, wouldn't it?" Matt laughed. "I suppose you'd just haul off and biff me one, and I'd think it was autumn with the leaves falling!"

Cappy choked, turned purple, sat down again, and glanced covertly at Mr. Skinner, who returned the glance with one that seemed to shout aloud: "Mr. Ricks, I smell a rat as big as a Shetland pony. Something has slipped and we're covered with blood. Incredible as it may seem, this rowdy Peasley has outthought us!"

"Did you get the letter we sent Captain Grant at Panama?" Skinner managed to articulate presently.

Matt nodded affirmatively.

"Opened it, I suppose!" Cappy accused him.

Matt nodded negatively, produced the letter from his pocket and handed it to Cappy.

"Where I was raised," he said gently, "they taught boys that it was wrong to read other people's private correspondence. You will note that the seal is unbroken."

"Thank God for that!" Cappy Ricks murmured, sotto voice, and tore the letter into tiny bits. "Now, then," he said, "we'll hear the rest of your story."

"When did a doctor look you over last?" Matt queried. "I'm afraid you'll die of heart disease before I finish."

"I'm sound in wind and limb," Cappy declared. "I'm not so young as I used to be; but, by Jupiter, there isn't any young pup on the street who can tell me where to head in! What next?"

"Of course, Mr. Ricks, very shortly after I had rechartered the Tillicum to Morrow & Company I began to suspect they were shy of sufficient capital to run their big business comfortably. I found it very hard to collect; so, fully a month before they went up the spout, I commenced to figure on what would happen to me if they did. Consequently, I wasn't caught napping. On the day Morrow committed suicide the company gave me a check that was repudiated at the bank. I protested it and immediately served formal notice on Morrow & Company that their failure to meet the terms of our charter party necessitated immediate cancellation; and accordingly I was cancelling it."

"Did you send that notice by registered mail?" Skinner demanded.

"You bet!—with a return registry receipt requested."

Cappy nodded at Skinner approvingly, as though to say: "Smart of him, eh?" Matt continued:

"After sending my wireless to Captain Grant aboard the Tillicum I sent a cablegram to the Panama Railroad people informing them that, owing to certain circumstances over which I had no control, the steamer Tillicum, fully loaded and en route to Panama to discharge cargo, had been turned back on my hands by the charterers. I informed them I had diverted the steamer to San Diego for orders, and in the interim, unless the Panama Railroad guaranteed me by cable immediately sixty per cent. of the through-freight rate for the Tillicum, and a return cargo to San Francisco, I would decline to send the Tillicum to Panama, but would, on the contrary, divert her to Tehuantepec and transship her cargo over the American-Hawaiian road there. I figured—"

"You infernal scoundrel!" Cappy Ricks murmured. "You—slippery—devil!"

"Of course," Matt went on calmly, "I had no means of knowing what freight rate Morrow & Company received; but I figured that they ought to get about forty per cent., the Panama Railroad about twenty per cent., and the steamer on the Atlantic side the remaining forty. So I decided to play safe and ask sixty per cent. of the through rate, figuring that the Panama Railroad would give it to me rather than have the Tillicum's cargo diverted over their competitor's road at Tehuantepec. In the first place they were depending on business from Morrow & Company's ships; and, with Morrow & Company gone broke and a new company liable to take over their line, it would be a bad precedent to establish, to permit one cargo to go to the competitor. Future cargoes might follow it!

"Then, too, the schedule of the ships on the Atlantic side of the Canal doubtless had been made up already, with a view to handling this cargo ex-Tillicum, and to lose the cargo would throw that schedule out of joint; in fact, from whatever angle I viewed the situation, I could see that the railroad company would prefer to give up its twenty per cent. rather than decline my terms. They might think their competitor had already made me an offer! Of course, it was all a mighty bluff on my part, but bluffs are not always called, particularly when they're made good and strong; and, believe me, my bluff was anything but weak in the knees. I told the Panama people to wire their reply to me at San Diego, and when I got to that city, twenty-four hours later, their answer was awaiting me."

"They called your bluff?" Mr. Skinner challenged.

"Pooh-pooh for you!" Matt laughed. "God is good and the devil not half bad. I got the guaranties I asked for, old dear! Don't you ever think I'd have been crazy enough to go to Panama without them."

Cappy jerked forward in his chair again.

"Matt," he said sternly, "you have defaulted in your payments to the Blue Star Navigation Company to the tune of eighteen thousand dollars, and I'd like to hear what you have to say about that."

"Well, I couldn't help it," Matt replied, "I was shy ten thousand dollars when Morrow & Company defaulted on me, and I was at sea when the other payment fell due. However, you had your recourse. You could have canceled the charter on me. That was a chance I had to take.

"Why didn't you grab the ship away from me? If you had done that you would be in the clear to-day instead of up to your neck in grief."

"We'll grab her away from you to-day—never fear!" Cappy promised him. "I guess we'll get ours from the freight due on that cargo of steel rails you came home with."

"You have another guess coming, Mr. Ricks. You'll not do any grabbing to-day, for the reason that somebody else has already grabbed her."

"Who?" chorused Cappy and Skinner.

"The United States Marshal. Half an hour ago the Pacific Shipping Company libeled her."

"What for, you bonehead? You haven't any cause for libel, so how can you make it stick?"

"The Pacific Shipping Company has cause, and it can make the libel stick. The first mate of the Tillicum assigned to the Pacific Shipping Company his claim for wages as mate—"

"Matt, you poor goose! The Pacific Shipping Company OWE him his wages. Your dink of a company chartered the boat, and we will not pay such a ridiculous claim."

"I do not care whether you do or not. That libel will keep you from canceling my charter, although when you failed to cancel when I failed to make the payments as stipulated, your laxity must be regarded in the eyes of the law as evidence that you voluntarily waived that clause in the charter; and after you have voluntarily waived a thing twice you'll have a job making it stick the third time."

"If I had only known!" groaned Skinner miserably.

"Besides," Matt continued brightly, "I have a cargo in that vessel, and she's under charter to my company at six hundred dollars a day. Of course you know very well, Mr. Ricks, that while the United States Marshal remains in charge of her I cannot discharge an ounce of that cargo or move the ship, or—er—anything. Well, naturally that will be no fault of the Pacific Shipping Company, Mr. Ricks. It will be up to the Blue Star Navigation Company to file a bond and lift that libel in order that I may have some use of the ship I have chartered from you. If you do not pull the plaster off of her of course I'll have to sue you for heavy damages; and I can refuse to pay you any moneys due you."

"We'll lift the libel in an hour," Mr. Skinner declared dramatically; and he took down the telephone to call up the attorney for the Blue Star.

"Wait!" said Matt. "I'm not through. Before I entered the harbor I called all hands up on the boat deck and explained matters to them. They had been engaged by Morrow & Company, and the firm of Morrow & Company was in the bankruptcy court; so the prospects of cash from that quarter did not seem encouraging. The Pacific Shipping Company had made a bare-boat charter from the Blue Star Navigation Company, and had then made a similar charter to Morrow & Company; consequently the Pacific Shipping Company would repudiate payment, and, as president and principal stockholder of that company, I took it on myself to repudiate any responsibility then and there.

"Then the crew wanted to know what they should do, and I said: 'Why, seek the protection of the law, in such cases made and provided. A seaman is not presumed to have any knowledge of the intricate deals his owners may put through. All he knows is that he is employed aboard a ship, and if he doesn't get his money from the charterers at the completion of the voyage he can libel the ship and collect from the owners. This is a fine new steamer, men, and I, for one, believe she is good for what is owing you all; and if you will assign your claims to the Pacific Shipping Company I will pay them in full and trust to the Blue Star Navigation Company to reimburse me.' So they did that.

"Now go ahead, Mr. Skinner, and lift the libel I put on the vessel for my first mate's account, and the instant you get it lifted I'll slap another libel on her for account of the second mate. Get rid of the second mate's claim and up bobs the steward, and so on, ad libitum, e pluribus unum, now and forever, one and inseparable. I care not what course others may pursue, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"

Mr. Skinner quietly hung up the telephone receiver.

"And, by the way," Matt continued, "I forgot to mention that I requested the steward to stay aboard and make the United States Marshal comfortable as soon as he arrived. In these little matters one might as well be courteous, and I should hate to have the Tillicum acquire a reputation for being cheap and inhospitable."

"You dirty dog!" cried Cappy Ricks hoarsely.

"Really, my dear Peasley, this matter has passed beyond the joke stage," Mr. Skinner began suavely.

"Let me get along with my story," said he. "The worst is yet to come. My attorney informs me—"

"Matt Peasley," said Cappy Ricks, "that's the first lie I ever knew you to tell. You don't have to hire an attorney to tell you where to head in, you infernal sea lawyer!"

"I thank you for the compliment," Matt observed quizzically. "Perhaps I deserve it. However, 'we come to bury Caesar, not to praise him;' so, if you will kindly hold over your head, Mr. Ricks, I'll be pleased to hit it another swat."

"Well, I'll admit that the failure of Morrow & Company and the Pacific Shipping Company to pay the crew of the Tillicum puts the buck up to me, and I dare say I'll have to pay," Cappy admitted, his voice trembling with rage.

"Well, that isn't the only bill you'll have to pay. Don't cheer until you're out of the woods, Mr. Ricks. You'll have to pay for a couple of thousand barrels of fuel oil, and a lot of engine supplies, and sea stores, and laundry, and water—why, Lord bless you, Mr. Ricks, I can't begin to think of all the things you're stuck for!"

"Not a bit of it!" Cappy cried triumphantly. "It was an open-boat charter, my son, and you rechartered on the same basis; and, though Morrow & Company were originally responsible you'll find that the creditors, despairing of collecting from them, will come down on the Pacific Shipping Company like a pack of ravening wolves, by thunder! Don't YOU cheer until YOU'RE out of the woods!"

"Well, I have a license to cheer," Matt replied, "because I got out of the woods a long time ago. Before the vessel sailed from this port, I sent this letter to all her creditors!" And Matt thrust into Cappy Ricks' hand a copy of the letter in question.

"That will not help you at all," Mr. Skinner, who had read the letter over Cappy's shoulder, declared.

"It wouldn't—if I hadn't sent it by registered mail and got a return receipt," Matt admitted; "but, since I have a receipt from every creditor acknowledging the denial of responsibility of the Pacific Shipping Company, I'm in the clear. It was up to the creditors to protect their hands before the vessel went to sea! They had ample warning—and I can prove it! I tell you, Mr. Ricks, when you begin to dig into this matter you will find these creditors will claim that every article furnished to the Tillicum while Morrow & Company had her was ordered on requisitions signed by Captain Grant, your employee, or Collins, your chief engineer. They were your servants and you paid their salaries."

"All right then," Cappy challenged. "Suppose we do have to pay. How about that freight money you collected in Panama—eh? How about that? I guess we'll have an accounting of the freight money, young man."

"I submit, with all due respect, that what I did with that freight money I collected in Panama is none of your confounded business. I chartered a vessel from you and she was loaded with a cargo. The only interest you can possibly have in that cargo lies in the fact that the Pacific Stevedoring Company stowed it in the vessel and hasn't been paid some forty-five hundred dollars for so stowing it, and eventually, of course, you'll have to foot the bill as owner of the vessel. That vessel and cargo were thrown back on my hands, not on yours; so why should you ask questions about my business? You've got your nerve with you!"

"But you'll have to render an accounting to Morrow & Company," Cappy charged.

"I'll not. They gave me a check that was returned branded 'Not sufficient funds;' they didn't keep their charter with me, and if I hadn't been a fly young fellow their failure would have ruined me, and then a lot they'd care about it! If I spoke to them about it they'd say: 'Well, these things will happen in business. We're sorry; but what can we do about it?' No, Mr. Ricks; I'm in the clear with Morrow & Company, and their creditors will be lucky if I do not present my claim for ten thousand dollars because of that worthless check I hold. When I collected from the Panama Railroad Company for the freight on that southbound cargo I paid myself all Morrow & Company owed me, and the rest is velvet if I choose to keep it. If I do not choose to keep it the only honorable course for me to pursue will be to send a statement and my check for the balance to the receiver for Morrow & Company."

"What!" demanded Mr. Skinner. "And leave the Blue Star Navigation Company to pay the crew?"

"Yes—and the fuel bill, and the butcher and the baker and the candlestick maker, and the stevedoring firm, and the whole infernal, sorry mess!"

Cappy Ricks motioned to Mr. Skinner to be silent; then he rose and placed his hand on Matt's shoulder.

"Matt," he said kindly, "look me in the eyes and see if you can have the crust to tell me that, with all that freight money in your possession, you do not intend to apply the residue to the payments of these claims against the Tillicum."

Matt bent low and peered fiercely into Cappy's face, for all the world like a belligerent rooster.

"Once more, my dear Mr. Ricks," he said impressively, I desire to inform you that, so far as the steamer Tillicum is concerned, I venerate you as a human Christmas tree. I'm the villain in this sketch and proud of it. You're stabbed to the hilt! Why should I be expected to pay the debts of your steamer?"

"But you used all the materials placed aboard her for your own use and benefit."

"That, Mr. Ricks, constitutes my profit," Matt retorted pleasantly. "She had fuel oil aboard when she was turned back on me sufficient to last her to Panama and return—she had engine supplies, gear, beef in the refrigerator, provisions in the storeroom, and clean laundry in the linen lockers; in fact, I never went to sea in command of a ship that was better found."

"Matt Peasley," said Cappy solemnly, "you think this is funny; but it isn't. You do not realize what you are doing. Why, this action of yours will be construed as highway robbery and no man on the Street will trust you. You must think of your future in business. If this leaks out nobody will ever extend you any credit—"

"I should worry about credit when I have the cash!" Matt retorted. "I'm absolutely within the law, and this whole affair is my picnic and your funeral. Moreover, I dare you to give me permission to circulate this story up and down California Street! Yes, sir, I dare you—and you aren't game! Why, everybody would be cheering for me and laughing at you, and you'd get about as much sympathy as a rich relative with arterial sclerosis. I haven't any sympathy for you, Mr. Ricks. You got me into this whole mess when a kind word from you would have kept me out of it. But, no; you wouldn't extend me that kind word. You wanted to see me get tangled up and go broke; and when you thought I was a dead one you made fun of me and rejoiced in my wretchedness, and did everything you could to put me down and out, just so you could say: 'Well, I warned you, Matt; but you would go to it. You have nobody to blame but yourself.'

"Of course I realize that you didn't want to make any money out of me; but you did want to manhandle me, Mr. Ricks, just as a sporting proposition. Besides, you tried to double-cross me with that wireless message. I knew what you were up to. You thought you had pulled the same stunt on me I pulled on you, and that letter to Captain Grant contained full instructions. However, you wanted to be so slick about it you wouldn't get caught with your fingers in the jam; so you forbore to cancel my charter. You figured you'd present me with my troubles all in one heap the day I got back from Panama. I'm onto you!"

"Well, I guess we've still got a sting in our tail," Cappy answered pertly. "Slap on your libels. We'll lift 'em all, and to-morrow we'll expect eighteen thousand dollars from you, or I'm afraid, Matthew, my boy, you're going to lose that ship with her cargo of steel rails, and we'll collect the freight."

"Again you lose. You'll have to make a formal written demand on me for the money before you cancel the charter; and when you do I'll hand you a certified check for eighteen thousand dollars. Don't think for a minute that I'm a pauper, Mr. Ricks; because I'm not. When a fellow freights one cargo to Panama and another back, and it doesn't cost him a blamed cent to stow the first cargo and cheap Jamaica nigger labor to stow the second, and the cost of operating the ship for the round trip is absolutely nil—I tell you, sir, there's money in it."

Cappy Ricks' eyes blazed, but he controlled his temper and made one final appeal.

"Matt," he said plaintively, "you infernal young cut-up, quit kidding the old man! Don't tell me that a Peasley, of Thomaston, Maine, would take advantage of certain adventitious circumstances and the legal loopholes provided by our outrageous maritime laws—"

"To swindle the Blue Star Navigation Company!" Mr. Skinner cut in.

"Swindle is an ugly word, Mr. Skinner. Please do not use it again to describe my legitimate business—and don't ask any sympathy of me. You two are old enough and experienced enough in the shipping game to spin your own tops. You didn't give me any the best of it; you crowded my hand and joggled my elbow, and it would have been the signal for a half holiday in the office if I had gone broke."

"But after all Mr. Ricks has done for you—"

"He always had value received, and I asked no favors of him—and received none."

"But surely, my dear Matt," Skinner purred, for the first time calling his ancient enemy by his Christian name—"surely you're jesting with us."

"Skinner, old horse, I was never more serious in my life. Mr. Alden P. Ricks is my ideal of a perfect business man; and just before I left for Panama he informed me—rather coldly, I thought—that he never mixed sentiment with business. Moreover, he advised me not to do it either. To surrender to him now would mean the fracturing, for the first time in history, of a slogan that has been in the Peasley tribe for generations."

"What's that?" Cappy queried with shaking voice.

"Pay your way and take your beating like a sport, sir," Matt shot at him. He drew out his watch. "Well," he continued, "I guess the United States Marshal is in charge of the Tillicum by this time; so get busy with the bond and have him removed from the ship. The minute one of those birds lights on my deck I just go crazy!"

"Yes, you do!" screamed Cappy Ricks, completely losing his self-control. "You go crazy—like a fox!"

And then Cappy Ricks did something he had never done before. He swore, with a depth of feeling and a range of language to be equalled only by a lumberjack. Matt Peasley waited until he subsided for lack of new invective and then said reproachfully:

"I can't stand this any longer, Mr. Ricks. I'll have to go now. Back home I belonged to the Congregational Church—"

"Out!" yelled Cappy. "Out, you vagabond!"



CHAPTER XLIII. CAPPY PLANS A KNOCK-OUT

The morning following Matt Peasley's triumphant return from Panama with the steamer Tillicum, Cappy Ricks created a mild sensation in his offices by reporting for duty at a quarter past eight. Mr. Skinner was already at his desk, for he was a slave driver who drove himself fully as hard as he did those under him. He glanced up apprehensively as Cappy bustled in.

"Why, what has happened, Mr. Ricks?" he queried.

"I have an idea," said Cappy. "Skinner, my boy, a word with you in private."

Mr. Skinner rose with alacrity, for instinct warned him that he was in for some fast and clever work. Cappy sat in at his desk, and Skinner, drawing up a chair, sat down beside him and waited respectfully for Cappy to begin.

"Skinner," Cappy began impressively, "for many years you and I have been harboring the delusion that we are business men, whereas, if we can stand to hear the truth told about ourselves, we handle a deal with the reckless abandon of a pair of bear cubs juggling hazel nuts."

"I have sufficient self-esteem," Skinner replied stiffly, "not to take that pessimistic view of myself. If you refer to the inglorious rout we suffered yesterday in our skirmish with Captain Matt Peasley, permit me to remind you, in all respect, that you handled that entire deal yourself."

"Bah!" said Cappy witheringly. "Why, you aided and abetted me, Skinner. You told me my strategy was absolutely flawless."

"I am not the seventh son of a seventh son, sir. I did not see the flaw in your strategy. You lost by one of those strange accidents which must be attributed to the interference of the Almighty in the affairs of men."

"Lost!" Cappy jeered. "Lost! Skinner, you infuriate me. I haven't lost. Like John Paul Jones, I haven't yet commenced to fight. Skinner, listen to me. When I get through with that Matt Peasley you can take it from me he'll be sore from soul to vermiform appendix."

"If I may be permitted a criticism, sir, I would suggest that you let this matter rest right where it is. Surely you realize the delicate position you are in, quarreling with your future son-in-law—"

"Agh-h-h! Pooh!" snapped Cappy. "That's all outside office hours. I haven't any grudge against the boy and he knows it. I don't want his little old bank roll—that is, for keeps. When I went into this deal, Skinner, I was actuated by the same benevolent intentions as a man that desires to cure a hound pup of sucking eggs. He fills an egg with cayenne pepper and leaves it where the pup can find it—and after that the pup sucks no more eggs. I love this boy Matt like he was my own son, but he's too infernally fresh! He holds people too cheap; he's too trustful. He's made his little wad too easily, and easy money never did any man any good. So I wanted to teach him that business is business, and if I could take his roll away from him I was going to do it. Of course, Skinner, I need not remind you that I would have loaned him the next minute, without interest and without security, every cent I'd taken from him in this deal—"

"But why peeve over it, Mr. Ricks? If Captain Matt—"

"At my age—to take a beating like that?" Cappy shrilled. "Impossible! Why, he'll tell this story on the Merchants' Exchange, and I can't afford that. Not at my age, Skinner, not at my age! I have a reputation to sustain, and, by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet, I'm going to sustain it. I'm going down fighting like a bear cat. I know he scalded us yesterday, Skinner, but every dog must have his day—and that dog-gone Matt's day dawned this morning."

"The only tactical error, if I may appear hypercritical," Skinner said suavely, "was your failure to cancel the charter on the very day that Matt slipped up on his first advance payment. If you had done that you would have had him. Don't say I didn't call your attention to the fact that his payment was overdue!"

"Yes, if I had done that I would have had him, but how much would I have had him for? Paltry nine thousand dollars! I wanted him to get into the financial quicksands up to his chin—and then I'd have had him! Besides, Skinner, I had to go slow. Just think what would have happened if Florry found me out! Why, I would have had to call off the dogs before I was half through the job."

"He's probably told her all about it by now," Skinner suggested.

"Don't get him wrong," Cappy protested. "He's no tattle-tale. He'll fight fair. However, as I was saying, I couldn't do anything raw, Skinner. I had planned, when Matt reached Panama and discovered he had been double-crossed to pass the buck up to you!"

Mr. Skinner started, but Cappy continued serenely:

"I planned to be away from the office when the blow-off came, and you were to have borne the brunt of Matt's fury and despair. Why, what the devil do I have a general manager for if not to help me out in these little affairs? And besides, Skinner, when he blew in here the day Morrow & Company hit the ceiling, he was so excited and worried I felt positive he was busted then; so what was the use calling him for his overdue payment when if I let him run on I'd have his young soul in hock for the next ten years?" Cappy leaned forward and laid an impressive hand on Mr. Skinner's knee. "You know, Skinner, we really need that boy in this office, and it would have been a fine thing to have gotten him and gotten him right. Then he wouldn't be leaving the reservation to chase rainbows. However, as the boys say, I overlooked a bet, but I'll not overlook another."

"You said you had an idea," Mr. Skinner suggested.

"I have. Just at present there is a libel on the Tillicum, and when we lift it Matt Peasley is prepared to plaster another libel on her, and another, and still another. Now, as a result of our conversation with Matt yesterday, he thinks we'll lift the libel to-day—in fact, settle with him for what he paid the crew when they assigned their wage claim to his company, and thus prevent any further libels. Now, if we do that it leaves Matt in the clear to commence discharging his cargo, but at the same time it makes it incumbent upon him to slam a certified check for eighteen thousand dollars down on the Blue Star counter, in order to hold the vessel long enough to discharge her and collect the freight. Then he'll turn the vessel back on our hands with many thanks—rot him!"

"I have no doubt that such are his intentions, Mr. Ricks; in which event he will, of course, be ready with the certified check the instant we make formal, written demand upon him for our money. I believe I have already warned you, sir, that we cannot cancel the charter without first making formal, written demand for our charter money."

"Well," said Cappy, "we'll get round that all right."

"Pray, how?"

"What time did Matt Peasley leave this office after the battle yesterday?"

"I should say in the neighborhood of half after three."

"Hum! Ahem! Harump-h-h! The banks close at three, and they do not reopen for business until ten this morning. It is now exactly a quarter of nine. Has Matt Peasley had time to procure a certified check since he arrived from Panama—or has he not?"

"The situation admits of no argument," Mr. Skinner admitted.

"Exactly! He didn't have time yesterday, and he sha'n't have time to-day, and to-morrow will be too late, because his money is due us to-day! We shall lift all those libels and free the Tillicum for him; then we shall make formal demand upon him for eighteen thousand dollars, in cash or certified check—we can legally decline his check unless certified—and when he fails to make good we formally cancel the charter. Then what happens? I'll tell you. We grab the boat with a full cargo from him as he grabbed it from Morrow & Company with a full cargo. Then we collect the freight on that northbound cargo as he collected the freight on the southbound cargo, and," Cappy continued calmly, "I dare say that freight money will put us in the clear on all those bills we're stuck for."

"And to do all this," Skinner remarked sententiously, "it is necessary to tie up Matt Peasley's bank account the instant the bank opens this morning."

"Skinner," said Cappy feelingly, "you get me almost before I get myself. Now listen, while I give you your orders: Go right up to our attorney's office, take our copy of the charter with you, explain that Matt has defaulted in his payments, and instruct our attorney to enter suit to collect. Tell him to get the complaint out and filed within three-quarters of an hour, and then, the instant he has filed the suit, he is to get out a writ of attachment on the Pacific Shipping Company's bank account."

"But we cannot do that, Mr. Ricks. We must make formal, written demand for the payments in arrears before we can proceed to force collection—"

"Certainly. We'll do that after we've tied up his bank account."

"But when we get into court we'll be nonsuited because we didn't do that first."

"I sincerely hope so. But in the meanwhile we've tied up Matt's bank account, and while we're arguing the merits of our action in so doing, another sun will have set, and when it rises again"—Cappy kissed his hand airily into space—"the good ship Tillicum will be back under the Blue Star Flag—"

"But Matt Peasley will allege conspiracy and a lot of things, and he can sue us and get the boat back and force us to render an accounting of that freight money."

"That situation will admit of much argument, Skinner. However, Matt will not sue me. Florry wouldn't let him! He'll make us lift the attachment on his bank account, and then he'll protect himself and tell us to whistle for the eighteen thousand dollars he owes us. Whichever way the cat jumps he wins. What I want to do is break even and with a modicum of my self-respect left intact."

"He'll promptly file a bond to lift the attachment—"

"Will he? Who in this city will go on his bond? Who does he know?"

"There are bonding companies in business, and for a cash consideration—"

"Rot! They will investigate and ponder before granting his application for a bond. It takes a day or two to get a bond through a bonding house, and all I want to do is to tie Matt up for a day. Now, listen! You see to it that the suit is filed and an attachment levied on Matt Peasley's bank account in the Marine National. That's where he keeps his little wad, because I took him over and introduced him there myself. Well, sir, in the meantime I'll call up Matt and precipitate a devil of a row with him over the phone. I'll tell him I've made up my mind to fight him to the last ditch and that those libels will not be lifted until he lifts them himself. Of course, he'll figure right away that he won't need a certified check to-day, and maybe he'll neglect to provide himself with one; or he may be chump enough to figure we'll take his check uncertified, and if he does that will teach him something."

"Well, I'm betting he'll not be caught napping," Mr. Skinner declared, "and if you want my opinion of this new proceeding I will state frankly that I am not in favor of it. It savors too much of assination. Of course, you may do it and get away with it—"

"Pooh!" snorted Cappy. "Forget it. At ten minutes of three this afternoon the libel on the Tillicum will be lifted, and Matt Peasley will be paid in cash the sum he advanced his crew for wages. That will block him from slapping any more libels on her and holding us up. Then we'll make formal, written demand upon him for eighteen thousand dollars; he won't have it where he can lay his hands on it, and he'll be up Salt Creek without a paddle."

"I am not in favor of it," Mr. Skinner reiterated firmly.

"Neither am I, Skinner, but I've got to do something. Can't let that young pup cover me with blood. No, sir, not at my age, Skinner. I can't afford to be laughed off California Street. And by the way, since when did you become a champion of Matt Peasley?"

Mr. Skinner did not answer.

"Since when?" Cappy repeated.

"Since he administered such a thorough thrashing to the Blue Star Navigation Company," Mr. Skinner answered, "and did it without prejudice. He swatted us, and we deserved it, but he didn't get angry. Every time he banged us, he'd look at me as much as to say: 'I hate to swat you two, but it's got to be done.' Bang! 'This hurts me more than it does you.' Biff! And then he went out smiling. I used to think he was an—an—interloper, I thought he had designs on the Blue Star Navigation Company and the Ricks Lumber and Logging Company, but he hasn't. He doesn't give a hoot for anything or anybody except for what he can be to them; not for what they can be to him. He's brainy and spunky and, by thunder, I'm for him, and if you're going to hand him a clout when he isn't looking you'll have to do it yourself."

"Skinner," said Cappy Ricks impressively. "Look me square in the eye. Do you refuse orders?"

"I do, sir," Skinner replied, and looked Cappy in the eye so fiercely that the old schemer quailed. "This is an unworthy business, Mr. Ricks. You're trying to teach Matt Peasley some business tricks, and he's taught you a few, so be a sport, sir, and pay for your education."

"All right," Cappy replied meekly. "When my own general manager goes back on me, I suppose there's nothing to do but quit. The program appears to be impracticable, so we'll say no more about it."

"I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Ricks," Skinner answered feelingly, and forthwith repaired to his own office.

Cappy Ricks gazed after him almost affectionately, and as the door closed behind the general manager, Cappy murmured sotto voce:

"Skinner, I've been twenty-five years wondering why the devil I liked you, and now I know. Why, you cold-blooded, efficient, human automaton, you've actually got a heart! Bow! wow! Faithful Fido Skinner was just a-tugging at the chain and dragging the dog house after him in his efforts to eat me up! I hope I go bankrupt if I don't raise his salary!"