(Complete Story.) The Counter-Merger:

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XVIII, 29 October 1904, Page 10

(Complete Story.) The Counter-Merger:

THE STORY OF A COMMERCIAL LOVE AFFAIR.

By

J. C. PLUMMER.

A tall, handsome girl, well dressed, but the effect marred perhaps by a slight affectation of mannishness in her make-up, stood on the wharf, earnestly gazing at the schooner Magic. Captain Zaehariah Hammer, noting the gazer, marvelled as, with all a seaman's loyalty to his craft, he doubted if the points of the .Magic warranted such close scrutiny. The young lady, becoming aware of the presence of Captain Hauuhcr, accosted him, “Good-day. sir,” said she, “are you about to sail?” "No, Miss,” replied he, “I’m not fixed yet.” “Fixed?"’ she repeated. "1 mean I am not chartered,” explained the Captain. “I understand you are not engaged to sail to any port.” ■‘Egzaetly, .Miss,” said the Captain. “Perhaps I can charter your vessel,” said the lady; “J want one.” Captain Hammer looked doubtfully at the Magic. “I'm afraid. Miss,” said he, “the Magic is hardly fit for a pleasure trip.” “I’ve no time for pleasure trips,” she said with scorn, “1 am on business. What would you want for the use of your vessel for two months?” Captain Hammer, while surprised at flic question, was supported by his New England caution. “It figures this way.” said he, “in two months I can make two trips at least from Down South to New England with coal. My schooner carries six hundred tons, and the rate averages a dollar a ton. I don't say anything about the outward voyage, as 1 generally go in ballast.” “That’s twelve hundred dollars." said the lady; “that is if you make your two voyages.” “Bless you,” retorted the Captain, "1 ought to make four such trips, and would too if business was brisk, but it ain’t. 1 have to wait so long for a cargo.”

“1 suppose you carry plenty of sails?” asked the ladv.

“Full schooner s complement.” “Which are the large sails?” she inquired.

“Fo'sail and mainsail,” responded Caplain Hammer; “then there are the smaller sails.” “I don't care for the little sails.” she said; “would it be any cheaper if you didn't use these other sails?”

“Not a bit,” replied the Captain with positiveness.

"I like the looks of your ship.” said the lady, “and I will charter her for two months. I am to go. and then: will also be a man. I am to have the use of the

two large sails for my purpose, and will be responsible for any- damage 1 may do them. For the use of the vessel X will pay you six hundred dollars when we start and the balance when we return. Do you agree?” Captain Hammer scratched his head. “The price and terms are all right, Miss,” said he, “but the man who built the cabin of the Magic hadn’t bridal couples in his mind.” “There's no bridal couple." replied the lady impatiently; “your cabin is fit to sleep and eat in, isn't it?” 'Surely,” said the Captain, nodding his head. "I shall want a stateroom in the sabin.” she went on; “as to my Old Master. he can sleep with the crew.” “Your what?” repeated the Captain. “I should have said my artist,” . corrected the young lady, colouring. “I've sailed the seas forty year,” remarked Captain Hammer, “and in that time I've never knowingly wronged man or beast. Maybe if yoii'll tel! me what, sort of a cruise you have in mind I can say if it will suit the Magic.” “I presume you've heard of Norton's Nou-Detachable Glue?” she said. “No,” replied the Captain with an intonation of regret, “1 never did.” "Why. it's painted on every rock, wall and fence in the United States.” “You see,” said the Captain, “1 don’t go about much on land.” “That proves my idea a valuable one,” exclaimed the lady. “I am Miss Norton, daughter of the president cf The Norte n Glue Company. ' 1 have charge of their advertising and supply new ideas. My idea is to affix catchy advertisements to your sails and meet incoming vessels. The passengers will read th.- advertisements and will remember them after they land. Besides, first impressions go a long ways.”

“A good idee,” exclaimed the Captain, smiting his leg: “passengers on shipboard have nothing to do and are interested in anything they see. I'd a passenger once who wrote a yard of po’iry over a empty tar barrel we passed.”

“You see.” continued Miss Norton, "we are not the only glue house. The Stickney Glue Company is our rival and presses us hard. Their advertising manager gets oil' some right fair things at times, but 1 think this brand new. When can you sail?”

"Captain Hammer said he could be ready for sea the next morning.” “Then let us sail as early to-morrow morning as possible,” said Miss Norton, “I’m anxious to get to-work.” Abount sunrise Miss Norton appeared on the wharf accompanied by a trunk, a travelling-bag and a lean, knobby man.

They boarded tbc Magic and she slowly warped herself away from the wharf, and, as the wind was fair, began to move out into the Misp Norton stood on the quarter-deck looking at the receding land until the Captain came to the wheel. ' . .

“Captain,” said Miss Norton, “that matt with the paint pot and brushes is my artist. 1 would like you to assign him a bed with the crew. His name is Michael Angelo.” “Don't look like a Dago,” commented the Captain, gazing at the artist. “He isn’t,” replied Miss Norton; “he’s an American and his real name is Mike Diggs. It’s a theory of mine that if one can elevate a man’s thoughts one also elevates the man. An artist named ■Michael Angelo would feel the compliment of being named after such a master and try to be worthy of it. When this man was Mike Diggs, sign painter, he was drunk most all the time, but since T asked him to change liis name to Michael Angelo he has been sober.” “How long have you been calling him that?” asked the Captain. “One day,” answered she hastily, and changed the subject. By dinner time the Magic was out

to sea and the land lay a gray smudge to port. Michael Angelo, who had been btlsy with a square of canvas and his brushes, now produced a picture which, with the assistance of the sailors, he affixed to the foresail. It represented a locomotive essaying to pull a man from a platform. Words supposed to be issuing from the engineer, were in large letters in a circle: “NO USE. HE'S SAT ON A DROP OF NORTON’S GLUE. LARGE BOTTLES 5 CENTS.” “That’s one of my ideas,” said Miss Norton with pardonable pride. “I think them out and Michael Angelo puts them on canvas.” ‘'That’s fine,” exclaimed the Captain, viewing the advertisement with admiration; “you can't help selling your glue with those pictures.. Look how .those fellows are a-staring at it.” A large steamer was passing, her rails were crowded with people gazing at the schooner, and the chatter of many voices came down on the wind.

“She’s an Italian steamer,” exclaimed the Captain; “I’m afraid the dagoes can’t understand that sign.” “No matter if they cannot,” she retorted, “someone on the ship will understand English, and he will have no peace until he translates that advertisement. So you see the impression will be the more lasting. One always remembers longer something that is a bit hard to understand.”

s Miss Norton was on deck by daybreak the next day. It promised a line day, and the sea was,calm as a. mill ■pond and destitute of vessels save far ,to the'westward, where a white patch t evidenced a schooner bearing northward.

Impressed with the silent beauty of the sufttise, Miss Norton forgot advertising tintil, glancing towards the west, she found the schooner was approaching them.' She watched it carelessly for a virile, then started and called down to the Captain to bring his glass on deek. She sliut orie'"of~ht!r pretty blue eyes and peered through the barrel with the other, then she stamped her foot and flung the glass on the eabin-house.

- “What’s the matter?” asked the Captain.

“The plagiarist! the groveller! the base imitator!” exclaimed Miss Norton between her teeth.

Captain Hammer’s eyes swept the ocean as if seeking some fabulous monster. Not observing it he inquired?; “Where is it ?” . .. ..N

“Look through the glass-- at that Bchooner, and see what a groveller is forced to do.”

The Captain gazed at the schooner. “By gum,!’ said he, “she’s an advert is-

ing schooner, too. What kind of an animal is that on her mainsail?”

“That.” said Miss Norton, coldly, “represents tin elephant trying to detach his trunl from a tree. The words below are:

“ONIA* A DAB OF STICKNEY’S STIC KING GLUE, AND STUCK FOR LIFE.

OTHER GLUES TRY’ TO STICK. OURS STICKS. BIG BOTTLES A NICKEL.”

“It’s not so bad,” she admitted, “if if, was not. rank plagiarism. I sec it all. The fellow dogged me down to New Bedford, saw me charter your schooner, and guessed out my plan. Then he gets a schooner and does the same. It’s sickening. If a man hasn’t the brains to originate, he ought to leave the advertising business.” “The pesky cuss.” commented the captain; “I wonder what vessel he chartered.” “Her name is the ‘Plagiarist,’” replied. Miss Norton, bitterly. “I never heard of a vessel by that name,” mused the Captain; “I am sure she don’t belong to these waters.” Miss Norton now summoned Michael Angelo to a conference which resulted in a large lettered square of canvas being affixed to the foresail. It read as follows: —- “SOME ARE CONTENT TO FOLLOW OTHERS’ LEAD. SOME ARE OBLIGED.” “That,” said Miss Norton, “is not an advertisement, it’s a comment.” “It’ll rile hint, I reckon,” remarked the Captain, “there’s a young man aboard and lie’s looking at the sign through a glass. I’m going to bear down on the lubber.” “Wait,” exclaimed Miss Norton; “wait until I return.”

She went into the cabin and shortly returned. Apparently she had brought up no new ideas, but she had changed her dress and incidentally the Captain noticed she had on a new hat.

“Now,”- said' she, “let its sail up to the ‘Plagiarist.’” The “Magic” changed her course so as to bear down on the “Plagiarist,” but the imit.aior making the. same manoeuvre, the distance between them remained the same.

“He seems shy.” remarked the. Cap tain.

“Imitators arc always so,” retorted Miss Norton, “when they arc likely to meet those flicv have imitated.”

“He has a sign up on his mainsail,” exclaimed the Captain, “‘WHICH FIX ARE YOU IN?’ is in large letters. What does that mean, Miss?”

Miss Norton disdained any reply, but walked to the other side of the schooner. “I don’t see the point of that sign of his,” persisted the Captain. “It’s- brazen impudence,” said she, “it has no point.” Now the attention of Captain Hammer was distracted from plagiaristie schooners by a gathering haze which quickly developed into a dense fog. lie immediately took in sails and set his fog horn braying.

"This knocks out advertising.” he said to Miss Norton, who was regarding the gray pall disconsolately.

"Well.” she said, “it’s lute now and we would not likely see any more shins.”

After supper Miss Norton sat at th cabin table, possibly forging sareasti thunderbolts which would Hing th

“Plagiarist” on her beam ends. At ten o’clock the Captain came down. “I’ve the whole crew on watch and the horn soundin’. I’m going to turn in for half an hour.”

Miss Norton continued writing, easting an impatient glance occasionally in the direction of the Captain’s state room, from whence came resonant evidences of healthy slumber. Finally with a s >'h of weariness she was laying aside her ■ pen. when thy schooner trembled as if stricken a fearful blow, and heeled over to port. In an instant Mi-s Norton was lying ungracefully on the cabin floor. She had a vision of the captain tearing up the stairs and she heard confused sounds and trampling overhead, then came sharp clanking which she knew was caused by the pumps. The schooner slowly righted and Miss Norton arose to her feet and stood awaiting the worst. She felt sure the Schooner had struck a rock and was sinking, but as the moment passed and the vessel seemed to be floating, she mustered up courage and climbed on deck. It was as dark as a pocket, and the clammy fog touched her face with the sensation of a wet sponge. There seemed no one at the wheel, but she could hear voices forward and groped her way in that direction. As she reached the main hatch she ran against a man.

“What has happened?” she asked. “Sinkin’,” replied a quavering voice which she recognised as Michael Angelo’s, “do you know anything about life preservers. Miss?” “Tell me what lias happened.” she persisted.

“We’ve struck on a rtiek. run into an iceberg, sprung a leak, and I think we arc on fire,” replied the demoralised artist; “does this thing go around one’s neck. Miss?”

But she was hurrying forward, guided by the gleam of a lantern which came

dully through (he mist, ami presently found herself alongside of Captain Hammer.

He was wav'ng his lantern and peering into the mist while the foghorn was making an awful clamour. ‘‘We’ve busted into a vessel.” he said when he .saw her. “1 can’t see what the fellow was about to let us drift down on him with the fog horn again’ like mad.” “Arc we sinking?*’ she asked in a strained vo*cc. “No, tight as a bottle, not making a drop of water; part of the starboard ia : i busted, though, an I our bowsprit is damaged.” “And the other vessel?” she asked in low tones. lie was looking eagerly out into the blank. “I’m afraid she’s gone down. Miss.” be said.- “I’ve sent out both boats and the horn is shoutin’, but it’s so blessed thick that one can’t see anything.’’ At that moment a shout came through the fog, a thin, tremulous shout as if from a great distance. Captain Hammer yelled in return through his trumpet, the fog-horn gave an extra blast and a beacon was lighted on the forecastle. Then the shout came again from seaward with the burden, “We’ve got *eni.” “Thank God.’’ ejaculated Miss Norton. The boat drew alongside. “All there?” shouted the Captain.

“All saved,” was the cheery reply, and several men clambered on board. Olio of them, a youngish man. advanced to the Captain. As he came with’n the glare of the lantern Miss Norton notbd hr was a handsome follow, and his voice was frank and cordial as ho sail; ‘Thanks to you and your men. Captain, we are all safe. It was all my fault, for 1 fell asleep. I once sailed a yacht about Boston Bay and thought I was a navigator.” •’Where were your mon?” asked the Captain. •‘Why. I’m afraid they were asleep, too. What vessel is this?”

“Magic of New Bedford on a cruise.” Ami then the captain shifted the lantern so as to allow the rays to fa 1 ’ on Miss Norton. “This is the charterer of schooner. Miss Norton.”

The young man raised his band to his head as if to remove his hat. in her honour, but that article being adrift on the ocean he bowed instead. “Miss Norton.” ho repented: “then this is the advertising schooner of the Norton Glue ( ompany?” “Yes,” she replied, “this is the Norton Glue Company’s advertising schooner. ( am their advertising manager, and 1 also originate new ideas.” “But in this instance lie began hotly. “Tn this instance the compliment ot

troit.it ion is paid me,” interrupted Miss Norton sharply. "You are entirely wrong,” exclaimed he, “the idea of placing advertisements on sails of vessels occurred to me last week while I was in Boston. 1 ran down to Providence and managed to induce an acquaintance to hire me his schooner. 1 have been railing at you for imitating me.”

"When I sailed from New Bedford,” said Miss Norton. “I imagined 1 had an entirely new idea.” "So did J when I sailed from Providence,” he rejoined.

"I think tile best idea right now,” put in the captain, “is for both of yon to turn in and get some sleep, especially this gentleman, who is as wet as a rat. You take the stateroom next to mine.” Miss Norton was early astir the next morning, but she found the castaway advertising man on deck before her. He was pensively gazing over the side. “Good morning,” he said, advancing and holding out his hand, “I’ve been looking for some vestiges of my vessel, but Neptune seems to have confiscated her entirely.”

“It’s no joking matter,” she answered, “you might all have been drowned.” “It certainly is no joke to the Stickney Glue Company,” he said, smilingly; “think of letting our aggressive rival have full sway over the seas. Did you really think 1 was imitating you?” “I most surely did,” she replied.

“I'm glad you use the past tense.” he •aid. “that shows you do not think so BOW.”

“I expect we have both brought in a verdict of ‘not guilty” as to our mutual plagarism.” she answered. “Yes, I have fully acquitted you. I have lost all my cards, but my name is Arthur .Stickney, and I'm manager of the advertising of the Stickney Glue Company.”

“That is my position with the Norton Glue Company,” she said. “My father is president of the company.” “And my uncle is president of the Stickney Glue Company,” said he.

“It's odd, isn’t it, that we should meet under these conditions?”

“Sometimes,” continued he, after a pause, “J doubt if anyone ever is strictly original. One may advance a theory or plan, but who knows but what fifty others have had the same thing in mind, but were not as quick io bring it about.” “I just don't know how to manage,” Baid Miss Norton. “How so?”

“You are practically my guest, since I am the charterer of the vessel. It don’t seem exactly hospitable to advertise my business while my rival, incapable of action through circumstances, is my guest.” "Nonsense,” said he, “go ahead. I’ll enjoy it. Of course my allegiance to the Stickney Company will prevent my giving you any assistance.”

“I'll think it over,” she replied coldly, “but I'll surely not need your assistance.”

After breakfast the weather stood fine, but the wind was absent. There was no practicable method of putting Mr. Stickney ashore, and the only thing to do was to wait for a breeze. Captain Hammer Baid the ealm might last several days. Miss Norton brought up a book, and Mr. Stickney smoked one of the captain’s pipes. “Why don’t you put up an advertisement?” he asked. “What would bo the use?” she retorted, “there's nothing but fishes to read them.” She re-commenced reading; it was evident she must be coldly polite to this aggressive young man. He was conceited, and, besides, a rival in business, and his friendliness must be checked. With these resolutions agreed upon in her mind, she was pro-

voked to find herself chatting animatedly with him, and her book lying on the cabin house. This would never do, but she didn't just see how to prevent it, and finally she gave it up and allowed Mr. Stickney to amuse her if he chose to do so. That night she thought how a certain gi.rl she knew would suit Mr. Stickney, how pleasant it would be to bring them together, and she fell asleep and dreamed lie married this most suitable young lady and . was wretchedly miserable afterward.

The morning dawned fine, but the breeze was missing, and Captain Hammer, after trying to raise a wind by whistling, said he would see if he could not sleep up a breeze, aud with this in view he turned in and snored vigorously.

A day on a becalmed small ves-el would be a monotonous experience for most young ladies, but Miss Norton did not find it so. However poor a manager of advertising Mr. Stickney might be, he was an adjunct to a becalmed ship, for he talked well, and Miss Norton upbraided herself over- the very confidential basis on which she stood after only a day’s acquaintance with her business rival. A man forward now shouted “sail ho.” “All rushed to the starboard side, and the captain came up from the cabin. He looked at a large steamer approaching them and said, “That’s the Delgia.”

“The Delgia!” exclaimed Miss Norton, “I fancy- my father is on her. He wrote he would return cn that steamer.”

“That’s odd,” said Mr. Stickney, “my uncle, who has been abroad for a year, is also a passenger on the Delgia.”

"if they’re both on her, we will both get a scolding for wasting the company’s time,” remarked Miss Norton.

“It’s a question if they are on her,” retorted he; “perhaps they fought until, like the famous Kilkenny cats, there’s nothing left of either.” She laughed. “Not quite so bad as that, I hope, but they may have quarrelled and so be in a horrid humour and discharge us both.” “In that ease,” looking straight in her eyes, “what do you say to our forming a partnership?”

She blushed and looked at the steamer. “How delightful it would be to go to New York on her,” she said. “That can be managed,” he exclaimed. “She's heading for us, and Captain Hammer can hoist a signal for her to stop.” “I can hyst a signal that’ll make him heave, to if you want me,” said the captain.

“Do so,” said Mr. Stickney; “our respective employers have long pockets, and can undoubtedly fixe things with the captain when we get aboard.”

The signal flags fluttered from the rigging of the Magic, the big steamer hove to. and a boat from the schooner, containing Miss Norton and her baggage and Mr. Stickney with no baggage, was soon alongside of the liner. The countenance of the Delgia’s captain glowered ominously on them from the bridge, but it cleared up when a portly old gentleman rushed to the rail and cried, “Nannie, is it possible?”

Miss Norton climbed the ladder let down from the steamer, and on reaching the deck, kissed the old gentleman and was kissed in return, then she turned to her companion.

“Father.” she said, “this is Mr. Stickney, of the Stickney- Glue Company. I was fortunate enough to rescue him from a wreck.”

Mr. Norton shook hands with this scion of a rival company without asking for details: indeed, if any- had been attempted, they would have been cut short by- the sudden arrival on the

scene of another old gentleman, who grasped the hand of Mr Stickney. “What’s th is, Arthur, have you lost your yacht?” he exclaimed. In a few- words his nephew- acquainted him with what had happened and then Mr Stiekney senior shook hands with Miss Norton.

“I hope you did not lose anything of value,” said the old gentleman to his nephew.

“I’m afraid I have, uncle,” remarked Arthur, looking at Miss Norton, who promptly looked after the receding Magic.

The two advertising managers were somewhat surprised to see their employers walk aft arm in arm and apparently on the most intimate terms; at supper, however, it all came out. “We are going to surprise you two,” said Mr Norton; “after several years of strife the tribe of Norton and that of Stiekney have buried the hatchet. In other words, wo have merged our plants, and now the Norton-Stickney- Glue Company will take the place of the two rival companies.” “A merger,” whispered Arthur to Miss Norton; “our jobs are gone. This tiling of combinations is a great evil,” he continued; “it must be met aggressively. What do you say to a counter-merger?” But Miss Norton was gazing at the floor and said nothing.

“It behooves labour to look out for itself,” he persisted; “one of us surely will be left jobless on a cold world. Why not make a merger and force them to keep belli of us?” “What sort of a merger?” she asked. “My- suggestion is the merging of Miss Nannie Norton into Mrs Arthur Stickney, in defiance of those combining glue people. Don't say no, darling, for I have grown to love you dearly.” Miss Norton made no reply, at least no audible one, but Mr Stickney seemed satisfied that the deal had gone through, for he walked aft with Miss Nannie on his arm and his face radiant.

“What do you think of the merger, Arthur?” asked Mr Stickney- of his nephew.

“I haven’t given it much thought, being busy forming one of mv own,” replied that young man, coolly.

“A merger of your own?” exclaimed his uncle.

“Yes, I propose to form a merger with Miss Nannie Norton. The style of it will be Mr and Mrs Stickney.”

‘'What a day for combinations'.” ejaculated the old gentleman, shaking heartily his nephew’s Land. Three mouths later Captain Hammer besought Captain Hobbs to look after the welfare of the schooner Magic while he went to Boston.

“I'm invited to a swell wedding,” said he. “and then there is to be a reception. I don’t know- how long that will last, but I’ll be back in a week.”