“May the good Lord bless you, Augustus! Come down and do business with Skinner on the cargo. Get him to quote you a price f.o.b. ship's tackles at the mill dock and tell him you'll furnish the tonnage when the cargo is ready for delivery. There's no sense in worrying poor Skinner until his worries are due, and when I send a Blue Star schooner to load your cargo for Sobre Vista I'm going to have to fight him and my son-in-law, Matt Peasley. But leave it to me, Gus. I'll guarantee the tonnage.”
“This is certainly wonderful,” the grateful Redell observed. “Thank you, Cappy. What I'll do to those Peruvian customers of mine on price will be a shame and a disgrace. Are you going to stick me for any demurrage on the vessel, Cappy? Because if you are, I'll have to stick my customers in order to get out clean.”
“Bully! Then I'll stick my customers anyhow. It makes the profit all the greater, and since they expect to pay a reasonable demurrage I see no reason why I should disappoint them.”
When Redell had hung up Cappy summoned into his presence Captain Matt Peasley.
“Matt,” he queried, “what schooners have you got due at any one of our northern mills within the next thirty days?”
Matt Peasley pondered and counted on his big fingers. “The _Tyee_ will be in from Valparaiso about that time,” he answered.
“Oh, no. We're using her in our own trade. Skinner will have a cargo ready for her by the time she gets back, although we don't know yet where we will send her.”
“Well, Matt, you tell Skinner he can't have her and to look around for some other vessel to take her place. I may give her to him at the last minute, but then again I may not. When she arrives at the mill, Matthew, my boy, tie her up to the mill dock to await my pleasure.”
“Why, what the devil are you going to do with the _Tyee?_” Matt demanded, astounded beyond measure.
“I might want to take a cruise for my health and use the _Tyee_ as a pleasure boat,” Cappy answered enigmatically. “They tell me she's as fast as a yacht in a breeze of wind.”
“The longer I'm acquainted with you, father-in-law,” Matt Peasley declared, “the less I know you. You can have your _Tyee_, but for every day she is held awaiting your pleasure your personal account will be charged with something in three figures. I'll figure out her average profit per day for the last five voyages and soak you accordingly.”