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Updated: July 8, 2025
And Cappy went off into a gale of laughter, and handed Skinner the letter to read. For the benefit of the reader, who may desire a closer insight into Cappy's Machiavellian nature, be it known that a sinker is a heavy, close-grained clear redwood butt-log, which, if cut in the spring, when the tree is alive with sap, is so heavy it will not float in the millpond; hence the term sinker.
Skinner's a little slow on his feet, but he means well and he's old enough to have a ship named after him." The practical theft from the West Coast Trading Company of the German steamer Valkyrie, had, to Cappy's mind, atoned for the loss and humiliation he had suffered in that grape stake deal.
Why, say, Matt, Cappy's been spilling the acid all over us and we never knew it. Somehow, I have a notion that if we had yelled murder when he was beating us he'd have had us both out of his employ while you'd be saying Jack Robinson." "I believe you, Mike. But he needn't think he's going to grab two years of my precious young life before he'll trust me with a steamer.
Gosh, that boy knows me! He'll take a stiff finger bet from Alden P. Ricks." Together they motored uptown to the office of Gregg & Co., where Cappy's card gained him instant admittance to the broker's private office.
This was Cappy's most terrible oath and he never employed it unless rocked to his very foundations. "Bill, as one bandit to another come clean. When did you first make up your mind to go to work for us?" "A week ago," Comrade Peck replied blandly. "And what was your grade when Kaiser Bill went A.W.O.L.?" "I was a buck." "I don't believe you. Didn't anybody ever offer you something better?"
He only knew that in Matt Peasley he had a man who had shipped out before the mast and returned from the voyage in command of the ship, and naturally such an exploit challenged recognition of the most signal nature particularly when, in its performance, the object of Cappy's admiration had demonstrated that he was possessed of certain sterling attributes which are commonly supposed to make for success in any walk of life.
"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." "Why, what's wrong about being a Mason?" Matt protested. "Cappy's a Mason and so am I."
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.
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. "'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." Mr.
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. "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." The youth retired.
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