Читать книгу The Merry Anne - Samuel Merwin - Страница 6

IN the morning the William Schmidt, Henry Smiley, Master, came in from Chicago and tied up across the pier from the Merry Anne.

Henry, Dick's cousin, was a short, stocky, man, said to be somewhat of a driver with his sailors. He seldom had much to say, never drank, was shrewd at a bargain, and was supposed to have a considerable sum stowed away in the local savings bank. Though he was wanting in the qualities that made his younger cousin popular, he was daring enough in his quiet way, and he had been known, when he thought the occasion justified it, to run long chances with his snub-nosed schooner.

After breakfast Dick walked across the broad pier between the piles of lumber, and found Henry in his cabin. They greeted each other cordially.

“Sit down,” said Henry. “Did you come down through that nor'wester?”

Dick nodded.

“Have any trouble?”

“Oh, no. Lost some sleep—that's all. You aren't going down to the yards to-day, are you?”

“Yes—I think likely. Why?”

“I 'll go along with you. I'm ready to make another payment on the schooner. I've been thinking it over, and it strikes me I'm paying about three times what she's worth. What do you think? Would it do any harm to have a little talk about it with the Cap'n? You know him better than I do.”

Henry shook his head. “I wouldn't. He is too smart for you. He will beat you any way you try it, and have you thanking him before he is through with you. I have gone all over this ground before, you know. Of course he is an old rascal—but I don't know of any other way you could even get an interest in a schooner. You see, you haven't any capital. He will give you all the time you want, and I don't know but what he's entitled to a little extra, everything considered. But don't say anything, whatever you do. You've got too good a thing here.”

“You think I ought to just shut up and let him bleed me?”

“He isn't bleeding you. Just think it over, Dick. You are making a living, and you already have a quarter interest in your schooner. You couldn't ask much more at your age. Have you heard from him yet, by the way?”

“No.”

“He spoke to me the other day about wanting to see you when you came in. There's another order to come down from Spencer.”

“Where's that?”

“Up in the Alpena country.”

“Lake Huron, eh? Oh—isn't that where you went in the spring?”

“Yes, I've been there. An old fellow named Spencer runs a little one-horse mill, and he's selling timber and shingles. And from what the Cap'n said, I don't think he'd care if you brought along a little venture of your own. That's the way I used to do, when I was paying for the Schmidt.”

“How could I do that?”

“Spencer will give you a little credit. You can stow away a few thousand feet, and clear twenty or thirty dollars. It helps along.”

“All right, I 'll try it. Are you sure the old man won't care?”

“Oh, yes. He's willing enough to do the square thing, so long as it keeps us feeling good and doesn't lose him anything.”

“Say—there's another thing, Henry. I fired Roche, up at Manistee.”

“Fired him?” Henry's brows came together.

“Yes, I had to. I had stood him as long as I could.”

“I don't know what the Cap'n will say about that.”

“I'd like to know what he can say. I was in command.”

“Yes, I know—of course you had a right to; but the thing is to keep on his good side. Suppose we go right down to the yards, and see if you can get your story in before Roche's.”

“What does the Cap'n care about my men, I'd like to know!”