_ CHAPTER XLV. CAPPY PULLS OFF A WEDDING
About a week later, Captain Matt Peasley was studying the weather chart at the Merchants' Exchange when he heard behind him a propitiatory "Ahem! Hum-m-m! Harump-h-h-h!"--infallible evidence that Cappy Ricks was in the immediate offing, yearning for Matt to turn round in order that he might hail the boy and thus re-establish diplomatic relations. Matt, however, elected to be perverse and pay no attention to Cappy; instead, he moved closer to the chart and affected greater interest in it.
"Hello, you big, sulky boob!" Cappy snapped presently, unable to stand the silence any longer. "Come away from that weather chart. It's blowing a fifty-mile nor'west gale off Point Reyes, and that's all any shipping man cares to know to-day. You haven't got any ships at sea!"
"No; but you have, sir," Matt replied, unable longer to simulate indifference to Cappy's presence. "The Tillicum is bucking into that gale this minute, wasting fuel oil and making about four miles an hour. I'm glad you're paying for the oil. Where are you loading her?"
"At Hinch's Mill, in Aberdeen, Grays Harbor; discharge at Honolulu and back with sugar." Cappy came close to Matt and drew the latter's great arm through his. "Say, Matt," he queried plaintively, "are you still mad over that walloping I gave you?"
"Well-l, no. I think I've recovered. And I'm not willing to admit I was walloped. The best you got out of our little mix-up with the Tillicum was a lucky draw."
"I'm still out a lot of money," Cappy admitted. "You owe me eighteen thousand dollars on that charter I canceled on you, Matt, and you ought to pay it. Really, you ought."
"That being tantamount to an admission on your part you cannot go into court with clean hands and force me to pay it," Matt flashed back at him, "I'll make you a proposition: You render me an accounting of the freight you collected on the cargo you stole from me, and I'll render you an accounting for the freight on the cargo I stole from you; then we'll get an insurance adjuster in and let him figure out, by general average, how much I would owe you if I had a conscience; then I'll give you my note, due in one year, at six per cent. for whatever the amount may be."
"Why not give me the cash?" Cappy pleaded. "You've got the money in bank."
"I know; but I want to use it for a year."
"Your note's no good to me," Cappy protested. "I told you once before it wasn't hockable at any bank."
"Then I'll withdraw my proposition."
"And present a substitute?"
"No, sir."
"I guess I'll take your note," Cappy said eagerly.
"I thank you for the compliment," Matt laughed; and Cappy, no longer able to dissemble, laughed with him--and their feud was over. Consequently, post-mortems being in order, Matt went on: "I feel pretty sneaky about sticking you with all those bills on the Tillicum that Morrow & Company defaulted on, just because the law enabled me to do so--but you did your best to ruin me; you wouldn't have showed me any pity or consideration."
"Not a dog-goned bit!" Cappy declared firmly. "I was out to bust you wide open for the good of your immortal soul. I would have taken your roll away from you, my son, by fair means--or--er--legal, if I could." He looked up at Matt, with such a smile as he might have applied to a lovable and well-beloved son. "I hope you've got sporting blood enough in you to realize I didn't really want your little bank roll, Matt," he said half pleadingly. "I don't know just why I did it--except that I'm an old man and I know it; and I hate to be out of the running. I suppose, just because I'm old, I wanted to take a fall out of you--you're so young; and--oh, Matt, you do make a scrap so worth while!
"And, because I've lived longer in this world and fought harder for what I've got than you'll ever have to fight, I wanted to put about six feet of hot iron into your soul. You're a little bit too cocksure, Matt. I tell you it's a mistake to hold your business competitor cheap. I want you to know that the fine gentleman who plays cribbage with you at your club to-night will lift the hair off your head down here on the Street to-morrow, because that's the game; and nobody shakes hands with you before giving you the poke that puts you to sleep. There are a lot of old men out in the almshouse just because they trusted too much in human nature; and I wanted to show you how hard and cruel men can be and excuse their piracy on the plea that it is business! I tell you, Matt Peasley, when you've lived as long as I have you'll know men for the swine they are whenever they see some real money in sight."
"Well, I shouldn't be surprised if you got the lesson over after all," Matt replied gravely. "You certainly made me step lively to keep from getting run over. You scared me out of a year's growth."
Cappy laughed contentedly.
"And what are you going to do with all this money you admit you owe me and decline to let me see the color of for a year?"
"Do you really want to know?" Matt queried.
"I'll take you to luncheon up at the Commercial Club if you'll tell me."
Matt bent low and whispered in Cappy's ear:
"I'm going to marry your daughter. I'll have to furnish a home and--"
"No excuse!" said Cappy fiercely. "Son, all you've got to buy is the wedding ring and the license, and some clothes. I'm stuck for the wedding expenses and you don't have to furnish a home. My house is big enough for three, isn't it?"
"But this thing of living with your wife's relations--" Matt began mischievously, until he saw the pain and the loneliness in Cappy's kind old eyes. "Oh, well," he hastened to add, "pull it off to suit yourself; but don't waste any time."
"In-fer-nal young scoundrel!" Cappy cried happily. "We've waited too long already."
Florry was a June bride, and the proudest and happiest man present, not excepting the groom, was old Cappy Ricks. He looked fully two inches taller as he walked up the church aisle, with Florry on his arm, and handed her over to Matt Peasley, waiting at the altar. And when the ceremony was over, and Matt had entered the waiting limousine with his bride, Cappy Ricks stood on the church steps among a dozen of his young friends from the wholesale lumber and shipping trade and made a brief oration.
"Take a good look at him, boys," he said proudly. "You fresh young fellows will have to tangle with him one of these bright days; and when you do he'll make hell look like a summer holiday to you. See if he doesn't!"
Later, when Matt and Florry, about to leave on their honeymoon, were saying good-bye, Matt put his huge arm round Cappy and gave him a filial hug. Cappy's eyes filled with tears.
"I guess we understand each other, sonny," he said haltingly. "I've wanted a son like you, Matt. Had a boy once--little chap--just seven when he died--might have been big like you. I was the runt of the Ricks' tribe, you know--all the other boys over six feet--and his mother's people--same stock. I--I--"
Matt patted his shoulder. Truly he understood. _