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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Why, it's rank nonsense to think of building now at wartime prices. If our recent sales have pinched us for tonnage we'll have to charter from our neighbors and worry along as best we can until the war is over." "You're making a mistake, Cappy Ricks," his son-in-law warned him. "Ask Skinner if I am. Skinner, let's have your opinion." Mr.
As Cappy Ricks had anticipated, the men on that deck promptly snagged the boat at bow and stern with boat hooks and on the instant Cappy Ricks' bully boys leaped for their prey. As luck would have it, Terence P. Reardon was the only one offered a helping hand and he did not despise it; neither did he forget Cappy's last instructions.
Then suddenly the price broke half a point as somebody tossed a lot of fifty thousand bushels on the market. Cappy and Redell each wondered whether he might not be the responsible party; and while they pondered somebody unloaded a hundred thousand bushels at $1.88. Cappy gasped as the quotations appeared on the blackboard. "Something doing, Gus!" he whispered; Redell nodded.
William E. Peck and he desires to see you personally." Cappy sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Have him shown in." Almost immediately the office boy ushered Mr. Peck into Cappy's presence.
A Knight Templar himself, Terence Reardon was the last person on earth in whom he expected to find a brother Mason. He glanced at Mike Murphy and saw that the skipper was looking, not at Mr. Reardon, but at the Masonic emblem. "Sit down, chief," Cappy hastened to interrupt. "Have a chair, captain. Mr.
Matt Peasley paused, with a forkful of provender halfway to his mouth. The S.S. Lion, eh? Why, that was one of Cappy Ricks' vessels! He remembered passing her off Cape Flattery once and seeing the Blue Star house flag fluttering at the fore. "Were they Lake boats originally?" he queried. Mr. Hayes nodded. "What are they doing out here?"
Thus we cover our shorts, and the difference between $1.89 1/2 and $1.85, less brokerage and interest if any will be, roughly speaking, four cents. Four cents on a quarter of a million bushels is ten thousand dollars not a great deal, truly, in these days of swollen fortunes, but, nevertheless, a nice piece of velvet eh, Cappy, you sporty boy?"
It seems that when a boiler is under water and not exposed to the air it rusts very slowly; also, the rust is like a soft film it doesn't pit and scale off in great flakes. And a couple of years under water will not do any appreciable damage to the Valkyrie's boilers. The Chinook is running yet, notwithstanding the fact that fifteen years ago she was submerged for a year." "Huh!" Cappy grunted.
Shortly after noon on the day of his small triumph over the West Coast Trading Company, Cappy Ricks bustled up California Street, bound for luncheon with the Bilgewater Club. On this day, of all days, Cappy would not have missed luncheon with the Bilgewater Club for a farm.
"You should take business precautions with anybody and everybody." "I thought I was dealing with a man of honor. Everybody has always told me that Cappy Ricks' " "How dare you call me Cappy?" " word was as good as his bond." "And so it is, my boy. You'll get your money, but you'll wait for it; and meantime I'll invest it for you.
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