Billy Topsail & Company by Norman Duncan (good novels to read in english TXT) 📕

early that night. They were to set sail for Ruddy Cove at dawn of the next morning.

* * * * *


Archie Armstrong, now returned from the Miquelon Islands and relieved of his anxiety concerning that adventure by his father's letter, was heart and soul for trading. But he scorned the little _Rescue_. It was merely that she was too small, he was quick to add; she was trim and fast and stout, she possessed every virtue a little craft could have, but as for trading, on any scale that half-grown boys could tolerate, she was far too small. If a small venture could succeed, why shouldn't a larger one? What Archie wanted--what he determined they should have--was a thirty-ton schooner. Nothing less would do. They must have a thirty-ton fore-an'-after with Bill o' Burnt Bay to skipper her. The _Heavenly Home_? Not at all! At any rate, Josiah Cove was to take that old basket to the Labrador for the last cruise of the season.

Jimmie Grimm laughed at Archie.

"What you laughing at?" Archie demanded, with a grin.

Jimmie couldn't quite tell; but the truth was that the fisherman's lad could never get used to the airy, confident, masterful way of a rich man's son and a city-bred boy.

"Look you, Archie!" said Billy Topsail, "where in time is you goin' t' get that schooner?"

"The _On Time_," was the prompt reply. "We'll call her the _Spot Cash_."

Billy realized that the _On Time_ might be had. Also that she might be called the _Spot Cash_. She had lain idle in the harbour since her skipper had gone off to the mines at Sidney to make more money in wages than he could take from the sea. But how charter her?

"Where you goin' t' get the stock?" Jimmie Grimm inquired.

"Don't know whether I can or not," said Archie; "but I'm going to try my level best."

Archie Armstrong left for St. John's by the next mail-boat. He was not the lad to hesitate. What his errand was the Ruddy Cove boys knew well enough; but concerning the prospect of success, they could only surmise. However, Archie wouldn't be long. Archie wasn't the lad to be long about anything. What he undertook to do he went right _at_!

"If he can only do it," Billy Topsail said.

Jimmie Grimm and Donald North and Bagg stared at Billy Topsail like a litter of eager and expectant little puppies. And Bill o' Burnt Bay stood like a wise old dog behind. If only Archie could!

-----


[5] As related in "The Adventures of Billy Topsail."



CHAPTER XXIII


_In Which Sir Archibald Armstrong Is Almost Floored By a
Business Proposition, But Presently Revives, and Seems to
be About to Rise to the Occasion_


Sir Archibald Armstrong was a colonial knight. His decoration--one of Her late Majesty's birthday honours--had come to him for beneficent political services to the colony in time of trouble and ruin. He was a Newfoundlander born and bred (though educated in the English schools); and he was fond of saying in a pleasantly boastful way and with a little twinkle of amusement in his sympathetic blue eyes: "I'm a fish-merchant, sir--a Newfoundland fish-merchant!" This was quite true, of course; but it was only half the truth. Directly or indirectly, Sir Archibald's business interests touched every port in Newfoundland, every harbour of the Labrador, the markets of Spain and Portugal, of the West Indies and the South American Republics.

Sir Archibald was alone in his cozy office. The day was raw and wet. There was a blazing fire in the grate--an agreeable bit of warmth and brightness to contrast with the rain beating on the window-panes.

A pale little clerk put his head in at the door. "Beg pardon, sir," he jerked. "Master Archie, sir."

"Master Archie!" Sir Archibald exclaimed.

Archie entered.

"What's this?" said Sir Archibald, in amazement. "Back from Ruddy Cove?"

"On business," Archie replied.

Sir Archibald laughed pleasantly.

"Don't make fun of me, father," said Archie. "I'm in dead earnest."

"How much is it, son?" This was an ancient joke between the two. Both laughed.

"You'd be surprised if you knew," the boy returned. "But look here, father! please don't take it in that way. I'm really in earnest."

"It's money, son," Sir Archibald insisted. "I know it is."

"Yes," said Archie, with a grave frown; "it _is_ money. It's a good deal of money. It's so much money, dad, that you'll sit up when you hear about it."

Sir Archibald looked sharply into his son's grave eyes. "Ahem!" he coughed. "Money," he mused, "and a good deal of it. What's the trouble, son?"

"No trouble, father," said Archie; "just a ripping good chance for fun and profit."

Sir Archibald moved to the chair behind a broad flat-top desk by the window. This was the queer little throne from which all business problems were viewed. It was from the shabby old chair--with a broad window behind--that all business judgments were delivered. Did an outport merchant want credit in any large way, it was from the opposite chair--with the light falling full in his face through the broad window--that he put the case to Sir Archibald. Archie sat down in that chair and leaned over the desk. Sir Archibald stretched his legs, put his hands deep in his pockets, let his chin fall on his breast and stared searchingly into his son's face. The rain was driven noisily against the windows; the fire crackled and glowed. As between the two at the desk there was a momentary silence.

"Well?" said Sir Archibald, shortly.

"I want to go trading," Archie replied.

Sir Archibald lifted his eyebrows--then pursed his lips. The matter of credit was evidently to be proposed to him. It was to be put, too, it seemed, in a business way. Very well: Sir Archibald would deal with the question in a business way. He felt a little thrill of pleasure--he was quite conscious of it. It was delightful to have his only son in a business discussion, at the familiar old desk, with the fire glowing, the wind rattling the windows and the rain lashing the panes. Sir Archibald was a business man; and now he realized for the first time that Archie was grown to a companionable age. This, after all, he reflected, was what he had been working for: To engage in business with his own son.

"Then you want credit?" said he.

"Look here, dad!" Archie burst out; "of course, I want credit. I'll tell you all about it," he rattled anxiously. "We want--we means Billy Topsail, Jimmie Grimm, Donald North and me--they're all Ruddy Cove fellows, you know--we want to charter the _On Time_ at Ruddy Cove, call her the _Spot Cash_, stock her cabin and hold--she's only a twenty-tonner--and ship Bill o' Burnt Bay for skipper and trade the ports of White Bay and the French Shore. All the boys----"

"My traders," Sir Archibald interrupted, quietly, "are trading White Bay and the French Shore."

"I know it, dad," Archie began eagerly, "but----"

"Will you compete with them?" Sir Archibald asked, his eyes wide open. "The _Black Eagle_ sails north on a trading voyage in a fortnight. She's loading now."

"That's all right," said Archie, blithely. "We're going to----"

"Encounter harsh competition," Sir Archibald put in, dryly. "How will you go about it?"

Archie had been fidgeting in his chair--hardly able to command his politeness.

"A cash trader!" he burst out.

"Ah!" Sir Archibald drawled, enlightened. "I see. I see-ee!"

"We'll be the only cash trader on the coast, dad," Archie continued; "and we'll advertise--and carry a phonograph--and sell under the credit prices--and----"

Sir Archibald whistled in chagrin.

"And we'll make good," Archie concluded.

"You little pirate!" Sir Archibald ejaculated.

Father and son laughed together. Then Sir Archibald began to drum on the desk with his finger-tips. Presently he got up and began to pace the floor, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his lips pursed, his brows drawn in a scowl of reflection. This was a characteristic thing. Sir Archibald invariably paced, and pursed his lips, and scowled, when a problem of more than ordinary interest engaged him. He knew that Archie's plan was not unreasonable. There _might_--there _ought_ to be--good profit in a cash-trading voyage in a small schooner to the harbours of White Bay and the French Shore. There are no shops in most of these little settlements. Shops go to the people in the form of trading-schooners from St. John's and the larger ports of the more southerly coast. It is in this way that the fisher-folk procure their flour and tea, their medicines and clothing, their tackle, their molasses, pins and needles, their trinkets, everything, in fact, both the luxuries and necessities of life. It is chiefly a credit business, the prices based on credit; the folk are outfitted in the spring and pay in salt-cod in the late summer and fall. Why shouldn't a cash-trader, underselling the credit plan, do well on the coast in a small way?

By and by, his face clearing, Sir Archibald sat down at the desk again.

"How much do you want?" he asked, directly.

Archie took a grip on the arms of his chair and clenched his teeth. It took a good deal of resolution to utter the amount.

"Well, well?" Sir Archibald impatiently demanded.

"A thousand dollars," said Archie, grimly.

Sir Archibald started.

"Two hundred and fifty dollars in cash," Archie added, "and seven hundred and fifty in credit at the warehouse."

"What's the security?" Sir Archibald blandly inquired.

"Security!" Archie gasped.

"It is a customary consideration in business," said Sir Archibald.

Archie's house of cards seemed to be tumbling about his ears. Security? He had not thought of that. He began to drum on the desk with his finger-tips. Presently he got up and began to pace the floor, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his lips pursed, his brow drawn in a scowl of reflection. Sir Archibald, recognizing his own habit in his son's perturbation, smiled in a fatherly-fond way. The boy was very dear to him; no doubt about it. But Sir Archibald was not sentimental in the affection.

"Well, sir," said Archie, by and by, his face clearing as he sat down, "I could offer you security, and good enough security, but it doesn't seem quite fair."

Sir Archibald asked the nature of the bond.

"I have a pony and cart, a motor boat and a sloop yacht," Archie replied, grinning. "I 'low," he drawled, with a sly drooping of his eyelids, "that they're worth more than a thousand dollars. Eh, father? What do _you_ think?"

Sir Archibald guffawed.

"The trouble is," Archie went on, seriously, "that you gave them to me; and it doesn't seem fair to you to offer them as security. But I tell you, dad," he declared, "if we don't make good in this trading cruise I'll sell those things and do without 'em. It isn't fair, I know--it seems pretty mean to you--it looks as if I didn't care for what you've given me. But I do care; and you know I care. The trouble is that I want awfully to go trading."