CHAPTER XX
THE COUNCIL OF WAR
IT was Saturday morning when the “Rocket’s” crew boarded the schoonerout on the high seas. Late Sunday evening the motor boat moved inthrough the Narrows of lower New York Bay. The cruise had been atracing speed, without a single hitch after Engineer Joe had fitted thatnew valve.
On the way Francis Delavan, who had thoroughly recovered, formed hisplans in case his fortunes had not gone entirely to smash in WallStreet. But it was still needful to consult Broker Coggswell andothers, in order to learn just how far the plans were likely to succeed.
As the “Rocket” was intended, in ordinary times, to be a “one-man”boat—that is, to be handled from the bridge by the helmsman, the threemembers of the crew had managed to divide up the watches so that allhad had plenty of sleep.
As Captain Tom dropped anchor at ten o’clock that August Sunday night,near Bedloe’s Island, and Hank hung out the anchor light, all three ofthe boys were wide awake and eager to see what was to follow.
Hank was to row Mr. Delavan ashore in the same little port boat thathad figured in the Shinnecock Bay affair. The owner intended going toone of the cheapest of the downtown hotels, whence he would telephoneBroker Coggswell and some others.
“Expect a party of us back by midnight,” was the last word the ownerleft with the young skipper. “We’ll want a little cruise out tosea, to-night, where we can talk things over with no danger of anyeavesdroppers about.”
Mr. Moddridge and the two remaining members of the crew stretchedthemselves out comfortably in arm-chairs on the bridge deck.
“It’s hard to realize that we can rest,” sighed Captain Tom. “It seemsto me that I still hear the throb-throb-throb of the engine and hearthe continual turning of the propeller shaft. Still, we really _are_having a brief rest.”
“Rest?” snorted Eben Moddridge, getting up and pacing within the shortlimits of that deck. “What does rest mean, I wonder? I feel as thoughthis Wall Street game I’m in had been going on, night and day, for tenyears, with never a pause for breath. Rest! Is there such a thing?”
A few days before Halstead would have been either amused or bored bythis exhibition of nervousness. But he had seen Mr. Moddridge come outwith surprising strength when things had been darker. There was a gooddeal of hidden manhood in this undersized, nervous little fellow whohad had the hard luck to be born with too much money.
“You can feel pretty easy, sir, with a man like Mr. Delavan,” CaptainTom went on, after a few moments. “If there’s a single foot of groundleft for him to fight on, you can feel pretty sure that he’ll pull atleast a goodly portion of both your fortunes out of the panic that hasstruck the money market.”
“I can hardly believe that we have a dollar left in the game,” rejoinedMr. Moddridge, shaking his head moodily. “Of course, Coggswell iscapable and honest, and he has done his best, whatever that was.But with such a terrific run on P. & Y. stock, and with such anoverwhelming part of our assets bound up in that stock, I haven’t theleast belief that Coggswell has been able to hold our heads above waterfor us. This long suspense, this awful wait for news, is killing me,”went on the nervous one, sinking weakly back into his chair. “Oh, whydidn’t I go ashore with Frank, the sooner to know how we stand?”
“Mr. Delavan thought it would be better for him to go alone, and tomove quickly,” hinted Tom Halstead, gently.
“Oh, yes, I know,” retorted Moddridge, with a sickly smile. “Frank wascertain that my nerves would go to pieces on shore, and that I’d make afool of myself and be in the way.”
Hank came back at last, alone in the port boat.
“What’s the news ashore, Butts?” cried the nervous one, anxiously.
“If you mean the stock market news,” Hank replied, as he brought theport boat around under the davits, “I don’t know. Mr. Delavan left meat the pier where I landed him. Told me he’d get a launch to bring hisfriends out here in.”
So Mr. Moddridge took to another long stretch of pacing the bridge deck.
Almost punctually as the “Rocket’s” ship’s bell tolled out the eightbells of midnight the lights of a small launch were to be seenapproaching. It came alongside, bringing Mr. Delavan and three othergentlemen. One was Coggswell, the broker. A second was Lyman Johnson,a middle-aged man and managing vice-president of the P. & Y. The thirdstranger was a banker named Oliver.
“What news?” was the quaking question that Eben Moddridge shot over thewaters as soon as the little craft was within hail.
“Things right down to the bottom,” replied Broker Coggswell, plainly.
“But there’s a fighting chance, Eb,” broke in Francis Delavan, “and achance to fight is all I want for winning.”
As soon as the party had boarded, and the launch was speeding back totown, Mr. Moddridge began to shake again.
“Look at that little boat scoot,” he shivered. “That boatman is goingback as fast as he can, to trade the information he has overheard.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Mr. Delavan. “A passenger boatman like that fellowhears all kinds of talk in twenty-four hours. If he tried to remembera hundredth part of what he hears it would drive him into an insaneasylum. Captain Halstead, get up anchor and take us outside, anywhere.We’re going to sit up and talk for a while. Then we’ll turn in belowand sleep. We don’t want to berth the boat in New York earlier thaneight in the morning, but must be there sharp at that hour.”
Tired of the motion of the boat so long at racing speed. Captain Tomgot under way at a speed of about eight miles an hour. The newcomersand Mr. Moddridge sat in a close group on the bridge deck, to holdtheir council of war for the morrow.
“In the first place, Moddridge,” began Mr. Coggswell, “P. & Y. closedyesterday noon, on the Stock Exchange, at 68.”
“We must be closed out, then—ruined!” cried the nervous one, aghast.“You figured, you know, that the stock touching 71 would wind us up.”
“And so it would have done,” replied the broker, “but Steel and theother stocks that are traveling with it behaved rather better thanI had expected. So, as things stand to-night you and Delavan have,perhaps, a few hundred thousand dollars left out of the game. But ifP. & Y., at the opening on the Board to-morrow, goes down to 65—well,Oliver, as the head of the bankers’ syndicate that has been furnishingmoney to the Delavan-Moddridge interests, suppose you tell what musthappen.”
“If the stock drops to 65 to-morrow morning,” took up the banker,“our pool will have to call in the loans, Mr. Moddridge. Delavanand yourself will have to heave all your P. & Y. stock overboard inorder to meet the call of the loans. Then, but not until then, as Iunderstand Mr. Coggswell’s statement, you will both be cleaned out.”
“But that isn’t going to happen,” declared Francis Delavan, coollylighting a fresh cigar and puffing slowly. “There have, of course, beenall sorts of stories out that I’ve been robbing the P. & Y. railroadand that I’ve smuggled the money out of the country. But Johnson,our vice president, has had a firm of the most respected and trustedaccountants in New York going over all the railroad’s accounts. Byto-morrow forenoon the reports of the accountants will be ready, andwill show that every dollar of the P. & Y.’s money is safe.”
“That will help,” replied Mr. Coggswell, “if the buying and sellingpublic believe the statement at once. But you never can tell how smalldealers in stocks will accept any report. They may think the move onlya trick to bolster up confidence until the inside operators can slipout of their holdings in P. & Y. If that view is taken, the stock mayfall off a dozen points in the first half hour that ’Change is open.”
“It can all be summed up in these words,” announced Banker Oliver,gravely. “Delavan, start P. & Y. going up in the morning, and you’resafe for a while, with a big chance for fortune left. But let the stockstart downward at the opening to-morrow morning, and you won’t be ableto get the stock up again in season to do you any good.”
Breathing hard, shaking all over, Eben Moddrid
ge rose and left thecouncil, tottering below and seeking his berth.
“Now that the poor, shaken fellow is gone,” murmured Francis Delavan,sending a sympathetic glance in the direction his friend had taken,“I’ll tell you, gentlemen, the plan I have for to-morrow.”
The council did not break up until an hour later.