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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.
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." "May the good Lord bless you, Augustus!
"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." Mr. Redell held up his hands in abject distress. "Cappy," he pleaded, "don't say that. You wrong me cruelly.
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. "You're right, Cappy!" he declared. "You aren't the only boob in the shipping business. I've located another." "That's what you get by taking father's advice," Gappy retorted proudly.
"Remarkable," Cappy declared. "Ree-markable!" "Dirty work here," Mr. Skinner announced. "Captain dead and a common A.B. cabling us for authority to draw drafts as captain, while posing as first mate. Nigger in the woodpile somewhere, Mr. Ricks." "I'll smoke him out in five minutes, Skinner.
"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." "We'll give 'em hell!" shouted Cappy.
Since Matt Peasley had accomplished a man's work it never occurred to Cappy Ricks to consider that the object of his interest might be a boy. Young he knew him to be that is to say, Cappy figured the rascal to be somewhere between thirty and thirty-five.
However, I still have one small duty to perform, Matthew. I've got to send a wireless." "To whom?" "That scoundrel Redell, of course. Think I'm going to swat him and leave him in ignorance of the fact?" Immediately upon arrival at the Commercial Club, Cappy sent the following message: "J. Augustus Redell, "Aboard S. S. Moana.
Cappy snapped presently, unable to stand the silence any longer. "Come away from that weather chart. It's blowing a fifty-mile nor'west gale off Point Reyes, and that's all any shipping man cares to know to-day. You haven't got any ships at sea!" "No; but you have, sir," Matt replied, unable longer to simulate indifference to Cappy's presence.
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!
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