Michael Dun - 7. Chapter 7

The room had four bunks and most of their possessions, strewn across the unused bunk, needed washing. Gordon and John played dominoes as Peter feverishly penned a business plan. His concentration had been undisturbed for several hours, finally he put the pen down and read the document out. They did not understand the wordy, technical jargon of the law as well as Peter Sheffield did. Phrases stood out dealing with their respective shares of the profit, and so they signed on the dotted line without ceremony.

Gordon Atkinson, grinning stupidly, he wanted to know if the same contract held water with Michael Dun.

Peter placed the documents beneath his coat and straightened his bow tie. He need not return a reply, he had worded both contracts differently – of –course, his companions did not know Peter Sheffield as well as Michael Dun.

We would fancy coming along, old chap.” Gordon said, plucking his bowler hat from the bunk.

“You have signed, Michael gets the same deal. I shall not be long.” With that he opened the cabin door and made for the stairs to the upper deck, passed the ship’s helm beneath skyscraper masts, breathing sails and a puffing funnel.

Michael answered the knock and allowed Peter in.

“So, what brings you here, old chap?”

“Well, I have drafted a business plan – very rough, very rough mind you. I thought you might like to see it before finally committing yourself to a decision.” He opened the satchell and gave Michael the documents.

“You wish me to read this now?”

“Yes.”

Michael read the plan. The primary objective of their capital output was to purchase mining rights on several claims and combine them into one operation. Michael observed that the contract was one sided and vague. Peter argued it was a rough draft, besides, Mr. Atkinson and Mr. Mansfield were in at one and a half thousand pounds each.

He added, “I have four thousand pounds.”

Michael returned the documents.

“Percentages of each shareholder’s capital input earn them 10% interest per annum, but there is no mention of profit sharing. I do not see a plan where I might prosper. Besides, Charlie and I have spoken about this contract and we both feel that we are not ready at the moment.”

“You shall regret this decision, Mr. Dun. You shall be sorry! You will not make it in Africa! Be careful you do not land up a pauper, Michael. You are throwing away an opportunity to get rich.”

“Oh, but I am rich, Mr. Sheffield. I have everything I need. But to the matter in your hand, I fear we shall have to pass on this one.”

Peter chuckled lamely.“I understand you need more time. Very well, chapsy, you have it. Read it carefully and ask questions, if you must.” He handed him the document but Michael did not take it.

Peter was offended for a moment. “You hesitate, Michael.”

“On the contrary, Peter, we will not need to read this any further. We have our minds made up. We wish to do this our way. We planned a course of action long before your suggestion of this business partnership.”

“Very well,” he put the document into his coat, “I shall continue this journey and hope that you will reconsider. A very good day to you gentlemen, a very good day.”

He made his exit hurriedly. The air outside smelled of salt, and the sound of splashing waves against the sides of the ship was louder, much louder than before. A lot of thought had gone into the business plan and he was angry with himself for missing an excellent opportunity. His mind told him to persevere with Michael. He would be a fool to let go of him now. That he was a part of his life; he had no doubt. He would even go so far as to accept Charlie into his small circle of friends. The lowly Charles Manning – a third class citizen who happened upon an excellent opportunity in Michael Dun. Moreover, Michael was too blind to notice Charlie’s eager tongue lashing out at his fortunate circumstances.

Above all else, Peter failed to notice his own obsessive voice in the back of his mind, a voice that continued to remind him that all he wanted was Michael.

And he would do anything to get him back.

The ship tilted as an angry wave swept beneath them and Peter danced back and forth on the deck with his brown woollen scarf trailing in the wind. Nervous of the storm he had every right to be. About to slide away, a strong arm gripped him and held him steady. It was the captain, a large man with whiskers and a steady gait. He pulled him to safety and explained that her maiden voyage, from Bristol to London, ended off the coast of Lundy Island in a frightful storm. She ran aground at Dundrum Bay on the Irish Coast in 1846. Knowing a little of the ship’s history, all Peter had to do was stay in his cabin until the storm ceased.

He burst into the room, wet and cold from head to toe, eyes blood red, cheeks dragging. He threw the business plan on the table and exclaimed, “The problem is that he comes from money. He has so much of it, and all I ask is for his signature. He turns to me and says something ever so eloquent about profit sharing.”

Gordon Atkinson grinned, “Absolutely bloody marvelous. You were up until all hours of last night getting this all together and he refused to sign. Bloody insolent.”

“Hold it there, chapsy. Let us not get too worried about this little setback. We need to play them into trusting us. We must be patient. The opportunity will come.”

“Why is it so important to have Michael as a partner? Surely we can get on without him.” Gordon asked.

“My dear chapsy, the man studied geology at Oxford. One cannot ask for a better candidate.”