“I'm through with the sea,” he said firmly. “I have an income of eleven hundred dollars a month—”
“Oh, is that so?” Cappy sneered. “Well, for the sake of argument, we'll admit you have the income. We don't know how long you'll have it; but we'll credit your account on the books while we're able to collect it from the charterers, and I guess we'll collect it while the Unicorn is afloat. But having an income and being able to spend it, my boy, are two different things; so in order to set your mind at ease, let me tell you something: I'm not going to give you a cent out of that charter deal—”
Matt Peasley sprang up, his big body aquiver with rage.
“You'd double-cross me!” he roared. “Mr. Ricks, if you weren't—” He paused.
“Shut up!” snapped Cappy, undaunted. “I know what you're going to say. If I wasn't an old man I'd let you make a jolly jackanapes of yourself. Now listen to me! I said I wasn't going to let you have a cent out of that charter deal—and I mean it. If you couldn't say Boo! from now until the day you finger a dollar of that income you'd be as dumb as an oyster by the time I hand you the check. What do you know about money?” he piped shrilly. “You big, overgrown baby! Yah! You've had a little taste of business and turned a neat deal, and now you think you're a wonder, don't you? Like everybody else, you'll keep on thinking it until some smart fellow takes it all away from you again; so, in order to cure you, I'm not going to let you have it!”
“I'll sue you—”
“You can sue your head off, young man, and see how much good it will do you. You surrendered to me your option that Hudner gave you on the Unicorn, and you failed to procure from me in writing an understanding of the agreement between us regarding this split. You haven't a leg to stand on!”
Matt Peasley hung his head.
“I didn't think I had to take business precautions with you, sir,” he said.
“You should take business precautions with anybody and everybody.”