‘What precisely is the cargo?’ queried John. ‘Is it dry-store goods—organs, pianos, and such like commodities?’
‘Ay, that’s about what it is—all the sort o’ fixin’s that make a harmonious home for the retired commercial gent—organs, melodeons, brick-a-bacs, articles of virtoo and amusement combined; and a fine variety of wood goods besides. Waal, if you’re for a deal you must be sharp about it, for I’ve to fix up with Mr. Coody by ten o’clock this mornin’, and I leave again this afternoon, havin’ just signed a fresh charter party for a cargo of fireclay bricks. So name your figure, plank down the cash, and I’m ready to deal.’
‘Well, what did Mr. Coody offer you?’ asked John pertinently.
‘Three hundred pounds in bank notes,’ replied the skipper; ‘but I’ll take £400 to clear; and dirt cheap, too, when you think o’ what a nest o’ nightingales your fam’ly and friends will be at ten dollars a head.’
‘Thank you,’ said John, as he moved away; ‘I’ll just go round and have a talk with my friend, and will let you know the result before ten o’clock.’
‘Right,’ replied the captain, cutting himself a fresh plug of tobacco; ‘£400 down, coin o’ the realm, before ten, mind ye, and your friend’s set up for life with a “house beautiful” that Solomon in all his glory and Mrs. Sheba couldn’t have fixed up better between them.’
‘What a curious, profane, hard-featured set of men these Americans are!’ thought John, as he stepped briskly away in the direction of his senior partner’s house. ‘Why, the mind of that skipper is exactly of the same temper as Bill’s; his features are as irregular, even his voice has the same twanging, nasal habit. However, he means business evidently, and I think I can persuade Mr. William to buy up his cargo, which will put, I imagine, a pretty stiff spoke in Bill’s wheel.’
Within a quarter of an hour John was on Mr. William’s doorstep, and ten minutes afterwards was explaining the strategical position to the senior partner in his dressing-gown. ‘Certainly, John,’ said Mr. William slowly, after listening attentively to John’s recital; ‘we couldn’t possibly have Coody on our Board; it wouldn’t do at all. Why, he’s a mere adventurer, and his method of under-cutting, “busting” people up, etc., would bring discredit upon our firm and have a bad effect upon our business. No, it’s quite evident, John, as you say, that we can’t square him—as to how far he means business, I don’t know. I incline to think he is bluffing us; but there isn’t time to find out how much he has up his sleeve; and if we buy up this cargo we trump his ace, you think, and can make a profit out of it ourselves at the stores after? Well, I daresay you’re right, John; and, after all, £400 won’t ruin us. We buy his cargo, and as he can’t “bear” the shares, he’ll be like a chained dog showing his teeth, but doing no damage. Yes, I think it is an excellent idea, John,’ Mr. William said in conclusion, ‘and if you’ll wait one minute I’ll give you the cheque for £400.’
By ten o’clock that morning John had completed his defences; the cargo was bought; he held an indemnity against any claims from the skipper and owners of the goods in question; he had made an inquiry at the Old Bank, and now was sitting down at the office to write a short note marked ‘private’ to Bill, to tell him it was to be ‘war to the knife.’
‘And I may tell thee, Bill, that thee had better give in with a good grace; for, in the first place, thee cannot sell the shares below par—vide the Articles of Association, paragraph 10—and, in the second, we have bought up thy cargo; and, finally, I feel assured that stores managed on thy suggested lines would never bring a blessing with them. Thou saidst it was to be “war to the knife,” but we hope thee will think better of it, for thy sake more than for our own,’ and with a friendly warning John finished his letter, and despatched it by hand to ‘William Coody, Esq.’