Cappy Ricks Part 32

"You go to the devil!" was Murphy's reply to this, and the Sea Fox dropped astern and came round on the starboard bow of the Retriever. In she backed, a foot at a time, and Captain Murphy, up on the topgallant fo'castle, was within easy conversational distance of Matt Peasley, standing on the grating at the stern of the Sea Fox.

"Better grab this heaving line, Mike," Matt suggested.

"Come aboard and have a drink, Matt, but leave your line behind you,"

Murphy answered hospitably.

The Sea Fox drifted down fifteen or twenty feet, swung slowly, headed out to sea, and then backed gingerly in until her stern was within a few feet of the side of the Retriever.

"Hey, you! What d'ye mean to do? Back into her?" yelled Matt Peasley to his mate. "Full speed ahead! Quick!"

A bell jangled in the bowels of the Sea Fox, her great screw churned the water and she shot out from the Retriever.

"That's right! Go clear over to China, and expect me to haggle with this man through the megaphone, eh?" Matt roared. "Back up again!"

"I tell you, Matt, there isn't the slightest use hanging round for us,"

Murphy warned the towboat skipper. "I wouldn't let the ship be held up by anybody, least of all a towboat man."

"Well, when the lookout on Point Reyes telephoned into our office that the Retriever was inside the Point, I made up my mind I'd come out and get her, and I don't purpose being disappointed," Matt replied jokingly.

"I'll just wait until you drift into the breakers, and then you'll do business with me, never fear."

"G'wan!" snorted Murphy. "How's Cappy Ricks, the old villain?"

"He's fine, Mike. He wanted me to work for him, but I don't like his general manager--Mr. Olson, full speed ahead or you'll smash our stern against this barkentine. Steady! That's better. Astern a trifle. Steady!

Mike, how've you been since I saw you last?"

CHAPTER x.x.xV. A DIRTY YANKEE TRICK

"Skinner," said Cappy Ricks, "I was called out of my bed at five o'clock this morning by the night operator at the Merchants' Exchange. He told me our Retriever was in the breakers just south of Point Reyes, but that a tug was standing by. What have you heard since?"

"She drifted in there in a calm last night, sir," Mr. Skinner replied.

"Fortunately the Point Reyes lookout had reported her early yesterday evening, and one of the Red Stack tugs--the Sea Fox--took a chance and went out seeking. Lucky thing for us--"

"The tug hauled her off then?"

"Got a line aboard just in time. I had a telephone message from Captain Murphy at Meiggs Wharf ten minutes ago. The Retriever is anch.o.r.ed in the fairway."

"What tug did you say it was?" Cappy queried.

"The Sea Fox."

"That's Matt Peasley's command," Cappy mused. "Lucky? I should say we are! It's up to the master of the tug very frequently whether, under such conditions, his task has been a mere towage job at the going rates or a salvage proposition to be settled in court. I dare say Matt will give us the benefit of the doubt and call it towage."

"Don't deceive yourself!" Skinner snapped. "It's salvage; Murphy said so. After he got close in Peasley refused to name a price and came aboard and made Murphy sign a paper acknowledging that his ship was in distress and dire peril, before he would even put a line aboard him--"

"Wow! Wow! The tugboat company will libel the ship now, and sue us for fifty thousand dollars' salvage on vessel and cargo," and Cappy groaned, for he owned both. "By George!" he continued. "I didn't think Matt would do anything like that to me. No, sir! If anybody had told me that boy could be such an ingrate I'd have told him--"

A youth entered Cappy's office uninvited.

"Captain Peasley to see you, sir," he said.

"Show the infernal fellow in," rasped Cappy, and Matt Peasley stalked into the room.

"I should like to see you privately, Mr. Ricks," he announced, and cast a significant glance at Skinner, who took the hint and left the room at once.

Matt sat down. "Well," he said, "I guess the tug Sea Fox and owners, together with her doughty skipper and crew, will finger some of your hard-earned dollars before long, Mr. Ricks. I pulled your barkentine Retriever out of the breakers this morning. In fifteen minutes she would have been on the beach and a total loss--and I have a doc.u.ment, signed by Captain Murphy and his mates, to prove it. I offered the pig-headed fellow a tow at ten o'clock the night before, but he declined it--trying to save a few dollars, of course--so when I had him where he had to have my services--"

"Well!" Cappy snapped, "send your owners round and we'll try to settle out of court. If they're hogs we'll fight 'em, that's all."

"And if you do you'll get licked. We'll get a quarter of the value of that vessel and her cargo. She's easily worth fifty thousand dollars and her cargo is worth thirty thousand more--that's eighty thousand, and a quarter of eighty thousand dollars is twenty thousand."

"You'll have to fight for it, I tell you," Cappy reiterated.

"There is no necessity for a fight, Mr. Ricks. It all rests with me whether this is a salvage job or just a plain towing job at the customary rates."

Cappy looked at his ex-skipper keenly.

"Matt," he charged, "you've got a scheme. You want something."

"I do; I want to save you a lot of fuss and worry and expense. In return I want you to do something for me."

"I'll do it, Matt. What is the program?"

"Give me that twenty thousand dollars you justly owe me--twenty thousand dollars I have to my credit on your books, which you are withholding just because you have the power to withhold it."

"And in return--"

"I'll tear up the deadly doc.u.ment I extorted from Murphy and report a mere towage job to my owners."

Cappy pressed the push-b.u.t.ton and a boy appeared.

"Tell Mr. Skinner I want to see him," he ordered, and an instant later Mr. Skinner entered. "Skinner," said Cappy, "draw a check for twenty thousand in favor of Matt Peasley, and charge it to his account."

"And then send it over to the bank and certify it," Matt added, "because before I get through with you, Mr. Ricks, you'll be tempted to stop payment on it, if I know you--and I think I do."

Half an hour later Cappy handed Matt Peasley, a certified check for twenty thousand dollars, and in exchange the latter handed Cappy the only proof the Red Stack people would have had, over and above the contradictory testimony of the crews of the respective vessels, that the services of their tug const.i.tuted salvage and not towage. Cappy read it, tore it into shreds and glared at Matt Peasley.

"Matt," he said very solemnly, "I'm glad this thing happened. I've always had a good opinion of you, but now I know that though you have many excellent qualities you do not possess that quality which above all others I require in an employee or a son-in-law.

"You aren't loyal. You had the sweetest case of salvage against our vessel that any man could go into court with, and you kicked it away like that, just for your own selfish ends. You sacrificed your shipmates, who would have been awarded a pro rata of the salvage, and you were false to the trust your owners reposed in you."

Cappy stood up, his face pale with fury, and shook an admonitory finger under Matt Peasley's nose.

"That act, sir, is an index of your true character," he thundered.

"A master who will deceive his owners, who will be false to their interests, is a scoundrel, sir; do you hear me?--a scoundrel. You will oblige me, sir, by refraining from any attentions to my daughter in the future. To think that you have descended to such a petty, miserable subterfuge to trick me and rob your owners! Thank G.o.d, I have found you out in time!"

"Yes, isn't it fortunate?" Matt answered humorously. "And if you get any angrier you'll bust an artery and die."