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I drew rein quickly, and the little maid sat up and saw the musket. "Don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried. "He's Cappy Jack, and he doesn't eat folkses." At this the old man came to meet us, though still with the clumsy musket held at the ready. "These be parlous times, sir," he said, half in apology, I thought.
"Take the bet, dad," said Joey quietly, "and I'll take half of it off your hands. I'll give you my note, secured by an assignment of a twenty-five-thousand-dollar interest in mother's estate to secure you in case Mr. Ricks should win and call you for his winnings but he hasn't a chance in the world." "Money talks," Cappy Ricks warned him and got out his check book.
The same financial tidal wave had swept Cappy Ricks out of the presidency of the Blue Star Navigation Company presumably far up the beach to a place in the sun, where he was to bask for the remainder of his old age as president emeritus of all his companies. However, if there was one thing about Cappy you could depend upon absolutely it was the consistency of his inconsistency.
There's always a point at which I quit er ah William." "More familiarly known as Bill Peck, sir." "Very well, Bill." Cappy slid out to the edge of his chair and peered at Bill Peck balefully over the top of his spectacles. "I'll have my eye on you, young feller," he shrilled.
I had some awful weather; but I just tucked her head under her wing and let her roll, and after I ran into the northeast monsoon, and later into the westerly winds, I had it easier and got more rest. You know, Cappy, when a ship is sailing on the wind, if you lash her helm a little bit below amidships she'll steer herself. Slow work, but I got here; and, now that I'm here, I'm going to stay here.
Let's argue this question calmly, coolly and deliberately. Don't lose your temper. Now then. Peasley said he'd throw his successor overboard, didn't he?" "Oh, merely a threat, Mr. Ricks." "Skinner, you're a fine, wise manager! A threat, eh?" Cappy laughed a short, scornful laugh. "Huh! Threat! Joke!" "You do not think it is a threat?" "No, sir. It's a promise.
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.
"You bet! with a return registry receipt requested." Cappy nodded at Skinner approvingly, as though to say: "Smart of him, eh?"
A hundred days passed, and Cappy visited the hydrographic office and spent a long time poring over charts of the air currents in the China Sea, along the coast of Asia and in the North Pacific. "Skinner, my dear boy," he quavered when he returned to the office; "I'm a most unhappy old man." Mr.
Unfortunately, however, he discovered a huge hole in her garboard, and before he could patch it an extra high tide lifted the vessel over the reef and sunk her forty fathoms deep in a place where nobody could ever get at her again. "Yes, sir," Cappy complained. "I'll be the laughing-stock of the street.
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