1860s American Tycoon Chapter 49 49: Visit

MacGregor threw the wrench in his hand to the ground with a harsh clang.

Then he turned and walked away.

Felix gave Hayes a look, signaling him to stay put, and then followed MacGregor alone.

They walked on the muddy, chaotic ground of the shipyard. The air was filled with the salty taste of seawater, the pungent sll of coal tar, and the mixed scent of damp wood. Underfoot were scattered rivets, steel plate scraps, and discarded ropes. Everything here exuded a contradictory atmosphere of creation and impending decay.

MacGregor said nothing, leading Felix onto the unfinished shallow-draft gunboat that lay quietly on the slipway. Standing on the deck of this steel behemoth, a unique sense of power washed over them.

"Do you see those sloped armor plates?" MacGregor finally spoke, his voice carrying an irrepressible pride, as if introducing his most outstanding child.

"That's to make the smoothbore cannonballs from the South slide off, not to take them head-on. Current naval designers have nothing but foolish vertical armor in their heads; they don't understand real combat."

Then he pointed to the protruding structures on both sides of the hull.

"And here, the steam paddle wheel is completely internalized, protected by half-inch thick steel plates. It allows this ship to navigate in shallow water only three feet deep, to go into any damned small Southern river, without worrying about its propulsion being damaged by shore-based firepower."

Felix did not comnt on the designs themselves, as he was not an expert in that area. He rely bent down and carefully observed a row of rivets at the junction of the deck and the hull.

"Mr. MacGregor," Felix began, asking a question that the other party had not expected, "the riveting process for these armor plates is very special. Do you use a steam hamr or a hydraulic hamr? Can this ensure that the pressure on every rivet is uniform?"

MacGregor paused, looking at Felix searchingly, "…We use a small hydraulic riveting machine that I designed myself. The pressure is more stable than a steam hamr."

"A very good idea." Felix nodded, his gaze falling again on the unfinished steam engine boiler inside the hull, "Where do you source the steel plates for the boiler? Baltimore or Philadelphia? Is their supply stable?"

This question hit a raw nerve for MacGregor.

He looked a bit displeased and replied stiffly: "Unstable, just like the weather in New York. Sotis the thickness of the steel plates they deliver doesn't even reach half of what the blueprints require. Those damned suppliers, they only care about pounds and dollars, never about the life or death of a ship."

"I understand." Felix's response surprised MacGregor, "My food factory also encountered similar problems. The tinplate for the cans varied in thickness, leading to a high defect rate during sealing."

After that, Felix asked no more questions, but instead began to discuss another seemingly completely unrelated topic with MacGregor—factory material managent and supply chain quality control.

They talked about how to establish raw material inspection standards, how to sign long-term contracts with suppliers that include penalty clauses, and how to reduce unnecessary losses by optimizing processes.

Every point he made was a business challenge that MacGregor was facing but didn't know how to solve.

Gradually, MacGregor's attitude underwent a subtle change. He was no longer a proud owner showing off his work to an outsider. And Felix was no longer a curious visitor.

The two beca an experienced factory owner and a talented but mismanaged engineer, conducting an exchange about efficiency and cost in the simplest industrial language on the slipway.

When they walked off the gunboat, MacGregor's hostile gaze had largely dissipated, replaced by a mixture of admiration and confusion.

For the first ti, he felt that this young man, perhaps, was truly different from the Wall Street businessn he had seen before.

They returned to MacGregor's simple, smoke-filled office, which was piled high with blueprints.

"You've seen it, Mr. Argyle." MacGregor slumped back into his worn chair, "She's a good ship, but she's trapped here by those damned moneylenders. Now, you can state your purpose; I don't believe in curiosity or anything like that. Of course, if you're here to propose an acquisition, then please leave. I won't sell my life's work."

"I'm not here to propose an acquisition, Mr. MacGregor," Felix said, sitting in a chair.

MacGregor retorted, "Then what are you here for?"

"I'm here to tell you," Felix said, fixing his gaze on him, "that as of yesterday afternoon, your biggest creditor has changed, Tom."

Tom Hayes, who had been waiting silently outside the door, walked in.

He gently placed a legal docunt, sealed with a Philadelphia law firm's wax seal, on MacGregor's desk.

It was a debt assignnt agreent.

MacGregor frowned as he picked up the docunt. Then he saw that the private credit company from Philadelphia had assigned all of his debts, totaling forty thousand dollars, mortgaged with the entire shipyard and the naval contract, to a company he had never heard of.

"Patriot Investnt Company."

"This is Tom's achievent," Felix slowly explained, "We bought your mortgage debt. So, Mr. MacGregor, from a legal standpoint, I now have the right to take your shipyard, design blueprints, and your unfinished naval contract at their value."

MacGregor's face instantly turned pale, as if all his strength had been drained, and he slumped in his chair.

Anger and humiliation, but more than that, a helpless despair.

"But," Felix's voice rang out again, pulling him back from the abyss of despair, "I'm not interested in taking your shipyard, and I'm more interested in your talent."

"How about you listen to my suggestion? I won't exercise my majority shareholder rights."

"But in exchange," Felix continued, "Patriot Investnt Company will acquire seventy percent of the shares in Atlantic Steam Power Plant."

"At the sa ti, Argyle Empire Bank will provide the shipyard with a low-interest operating loan totaling fifty thousand dollars. This will allow you to pay supplier bills, hire more workers, and make the shipyard ring with hamrs again."

"You will continue to serve as the president and chief designer of this factory, with complete operational autonomy. I have only one request."

Felix looked at MacGregor, whose complexion had slightly improved, and continued, "That is to build the ships and earn back my investnt."

MacGregor was sowhat incredulous; the other party hadn't taken his shipping business at this opportunity, but had left him thirty percent of the shares.

MacGregor looked at Felix, an indescribable expression appearing in his eyes, which usually burned with anger.

After a long while, he spoke hoarsely.

"I… I have no choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice, Mr. MacGregor," Felix smiled, "It's just that there's usually only one smart choice."

MacGregor closed his eyes and let out a long breath, as if exhaling half a lifeti of pride and weariness.

He picked up the pen on the table and signed his na on a share transfer agreent that Catherine had already drafted.

"Mr. Argyle…" He put down the pen and looked at Felix with a complex gaze, "Has anyone ever told you that you're like a devil?"

Felix smiled.

"Of course, and welco to the devil's camp, my friend."

The next morning, MacGregor had not slept a wink.

The kerosene lamp in his office had burned all night, and he had reread the equity agreent and the Argyle Bank loan intention letter on his desk dozens of tis.

He still felt that everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours was like an absurd dream.

The office door was knocked, and Felix and Tom Hayes walked in promptly.

"Good morning, Mr. MacGregor." Felix's tone was relaxed, as if he were visiting a friend.

"Mr. Argyle." MacGregor stood up, his expression complex, "Now that you are the Boss here, will you replace all the workers with your own people?"

"No, Mr. MacGregor."

Felix sat on the only still-clean sofa in the office, "As I said yesterday, what I bought was your talent and your team's craftsmanship, not these few dilapidated factory buildings.

Not a single worker will be laid off; in fact, we will hire more people."

Felix looked at the proud Scotsman, giving him ample respect.

"You are still the president and chief designer of this factory.

All matters of production and technology are up to you; I will not interfere."

"However," Felix's tone shifted, "financially, we need to establish a new set of rules."

He gestured to Hayes beside him.

"Mr. Tom Hayes will represent Patriot Investnt Company and be responsible for overseeing the finances," Felix explained, "The fifty-thousand-dollar loan from Argyle Bank will be deposited this morning.

But this money is not for you to spend as you please."

"From today onwards, every expenditure of the factory, from buying a single screw to paying workers' salaries, must have clear accounting records.

All supplier contracts will need to be reviewed and signed jointly by you and Mr. Hayes.

I need to know where every penny of the company's money is being spent."

MacGregor's brows furrowed.

He was an engineer and detested dealing with such tedious numbers.

But he also knew that these were terms he had to accept.

"I understand." He responded stiffly.

Just as the two were talking, the office door was violently pushed open.

Hobbs, the burly supplier from yesterday, barged in with two of his n, swaggering.

Clearly, he still didn't know that the place had changed owners.

"MacGregor! I heard you got lucky yesterday?"

Hobbs yelled as soon as he entered, not even noticing Felix and Hayes sitting on the sofa, "Where's the money?

If I don't see the money today, my n will co and dismantle your boilers this afternoon!"

MacGregor's face instantly turned a purplish-red, and he clenched his fists, about to erupt.

"Mr. Hobbs, is it?"

A calm voice ca from the direction of the sofa.

Hobbs then noticed the other two people in the room.

He looked at Felix, his eyes full of confusion.

Felix slowly stood up and walked to Hobbs.

"I am Felix Argyle.

From today onwards, this shipyard is my property."

He nodded at Hayes.

Hayes took out a thick stack of brand-new greenbacks, still slling of bank ink, from his briefcase and placed them heavily on the table.

"Here is your three thousand dollars for the goods, not a cent less." Felix's tone was indifferent, "You can count it."

Hobbs looked at Felix, then at MacGregor.

"Now, we've settled the accounts."

Felix's voice suddenly turned cold, "But I also give you a piece of advice, Mr. Hobbs.

In the future, any orders from the Atlantic Steam Power Plant will go through open bidding.

If your steel plates are of the best quality and the price is the most reasonable, we welco you."

"But if you still want to do business using the old thods of threats and extortion," he pointed to the door, "then the waters of New York Harbor are not calm, enough to bury an entire family, neatly."

These words made Hobbs's face turn pale, then green.

He looked at Felix's seemingly bottomless eyes and suddenly rembered who he was.

Felix Argyle, a young tycoon who had suddenly risen in the past two years, held a large number of army logistics orders, and was rumored to be the president of New York's erging industrial 'Alliance,' and also rumored to have connections with the Tammany Hall and New York's largest Irish gang.

He was a figure who had influence in military, political, and underworld circles.

Even Mr. Vanderbilt's reputation couldn't overshadow his in recent years.

"Sorry, Mr. Argyle, I didn't know this shipyard had beco your company.

I will comply with your rules from now on."

After saying that, he picked up the money without counting it and slunk out of the office under MacGregor's gleeful gaze.

After the office door closed again, MacGregor looked at Felix, speechless for a long ti.

"Now," Felix sat down again, as if nothing had happened, "we can talk about how to get the hamrs ringing in the shipyard again."

"Tom will imdiately pay all overdue wages and announce a ten percent raise.

I need you to re-energize the workers' morale." Felix gave his instructions, "Then, list all the parts and materials needed.

The money is in place; I need to see them in your warehouse in the shortest possible ti."

MacGregor looked at Felix with gratitude.

This man not only saved his factory but also, just now, won back his long-lost dignity for him.

"Mr. Argyle..."

"Thank you."

"Just call Felix, MacGregor." Felix smiled, "We are partners now.

You are now debt-free and have ample funds.

Tell , how long will it take you to launch this ship?"

MacGregor's gaze, through the dusty office window, fell upon his most beloved creation, quietly resting on the slipway.

The fla of a creator rekindled in his eyes.

"Please give one month!" His voice was full of power, "In one month, I guarantee it will be the fastest and most lethal gunboat on the Hudson River!"

"Excellent, a very good guarantee." Felix nodded with satisfaction, "Then I will await your good news..."

Felix stood up, preparing to leave.

Then he stopped at the door, turned back, and said, "Once the ship is built, we should discuss how to build several steam forging hamrs for my Militech, ones even more precise than this ship."

MacGregor froze.

Only then did he realize that Felix's investnt in his shipyard was not just for naval contracts.

All of this was rely one part of the young man's grand plan.

Watching Felix and Hayes walk away, MacGregor felt that he might truly have boarded a giant ship capable of sailing to a wider ocean.

The air in Chicago always seed to carry a complex and strong scent.

It was a mixture of the sll of tens of thousands of livestock, the bloody scent of slaughterhouses, the moisture carried by the wind from Lake Michigan, and coal smoke.

For Bill, this was the sll of his new venture.

As the president of tropolitan Trading Company, he was no longer the butcher who swung a cleaver in New York's slaughtering district.

He now had a spacious office with a view of the Union Stock Yards, the busiest and most chaotic cattle pens and rail tracks in the entire States. Every day, he dealt with purchase orders from Kansas and Nebraska, as well as transportation schedules for shipnts to New York.

Of course, he hated the damned paperwork, but he loved the feeling of slowly gathering all the beef from the Arican West into his own hands and then sending it to Felix's massive factory.

However, recent procurent reports had filled him with deep unease.

"Caleb," Bill asked his most capable chief purchasing agent, a dark-skinned forr cowboy, "What exactly is going on in Kansas? Case Ranch rejected our offer last week, and today, even Goodnight Ranch, which we've worked with for almost a year, is starting to be evasive. Have their cattle all flown into the sky?"

Caleb pulled a crumpled pack of tobacco from his pocket and rolled a cigarette.

"Bill, sothing's not right." His voice was a bit hoarse. "Recently, a group of guys calling themselves the Western Livestock Cooperative has erged."

"Cooperative?" Bill frowned. "How co I've never heard of them?"

"I only heard about them last week," Caleb replied. "Their people are driving new wagons, carrying boxes of silver coins, and traveling to ranches everywhere. They're offering ranch owners half a cent more than our price, but they demand an exclusive supply agreent."

"And they're spreading rumors everywhere," Caleb added. "They're saying our tropolitan Company is Eastern capital from New York, and that our Boss, Felix Argyle, is a black-hearted financier from Wall Street. They're telling those ranch owners that we're only offering high prices now to monopolize the market, and once everyone is tied to our ship, we'll drastically cut prices, leaving them with nothing."

Bill slamd his fist on the table, making the inkwell jump.

"Motherf*cker, f*ck you! Felix is the most trustworthy businessman!"

"Of course, I know, and you know. But those ranch owners who've never left the prairie their whole lives don't know." Caleb sighed. "To them, a local cooperative that offers half a cent more and promises to 'protect the interests of Westerners' certainly sounds much more appealing than us."

"This isn't so damn cooperative at all." Although Bill's mind wasn't as complex as Felix's, he possessed a beast-like business intuition. "Soone must be behind this. Who is giving them money?"

"That's the most troubleso part." Caleb shook his head. "I had people investigate, and this cooperative is jointly owned by several small ranch owners. But all their funds, I found out, co from a credit company in Philadelphia. And behind that company... the trail goes cold."

...anwhile, in a private club in Chicago open only to a select few businessn.

In the smoke-filled room, Philip Armour was ticulously cutting the steak on his plate. He was one of Chicago's largest at processors, a ruthless and astute tycoon who had risen from a bottom-tier butcher to build his processing empire.

"That butcher from New York isn't having a good ti recently," a middleman across from Armour said with a smile.

"He's too naive," Armour said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, his tone flat. "He, like Argyle, thought that by establishing relationships with ranch owners, he could bypass us in Chicago."

"Philip, your cooperative idea is genius," the middleman complinted. "Using the ranch owners' own hands to choke off the New Yorkers' necks—the little extra money we're paying now, we'll get back tenfold, with interest, once that butcher's factory runs out of stock."

"That wasn't my idea," Armour shook his head. "It was a suggestion from those old friends in New York."

In his mind, the grim face of Mr. Sloan from the Eastern Railroad Alliance appeared.

"Argyle has offended too many people in New York," a cold glint flashed in Armour's eyes. "We are simply doing what everyone wants to see happen. We need to make him understand that business in the West has its own rules."

...Three days later, an urgent telegram from Chicago arrived at Felix's study.

Felix carefully read Bill's report, which was filled with anger and worry. Catherine stood beside him and also saw the contents of the telegram.

"They are repeating the Trade Association's old tactics," Catherine's voice was sowhat grave. "By controlling the source, they aim to strangle us. It's just that this ti, the thods are more clever and more covert."

"Yes." There was no anger on Felix's face, only the focused expression of a chess player who had discovered a new move from his opponent. "They've gotten smarter. They're no longer attacking our factories or harassing our transportation. They're directly digging at our foundation, which is a more fatal blow."

He stood up and walked to the large map of Arica. He looked at the vast, green area stretching west from Chicago.

"Bill's idea is to compete with them on procurent prices," Felix said slowly. "But that's a dead end. No matter how much money we invest, they can always outbid us by that half-cent. Because their goal isn't profit, but to drag us down."

After a mont of thought, Catherine offered her opinion.

"Then, Felix, if we bypass the ranch owners and directly purchase farms and ranches, even if it can't fully et the company's production capacity, it could alleviate so of the pressure and, more importantly, show them that such petty tactics won't deter us."

"Well said, it's true we can no longer be content with just buying the fruit from the trees." Felix's finger drew a heavy circle over the vast lands of Nebraska and Kansas.

"Since they want to compete for supply contracts with ranch owners, I'll take the land under the ranch owners' feet as well."

Approval flashed in Catherine's eyes; she was no longer her old self. Sotis, solving problems at their root was the most effective approach.

"Send a telegram to Templeton and Hayes."

"Tell Templeton that I need Argyle Bank to imdiately establish an Agricultural Credit and Land Appraisal Departnt. I need the most detailed report on the Hostead Act and state land transaction regulations."

"As for Hayes," he continued, "have him imdiately begin evaluating how much capital would be needed to fully acquire a dium-sized ranch in Nebraska with at least fifty thousand acres of land and tens of thousands of cattle."

He turned and looked at Catherine.

"I'd like to see what other tricks they can pull."

----

Wall Street, Patriot Investnt Company's office.

Tom Hayes looked at the words "evaluate acquisition of fifty thousand acres of ranch land in Nebraska" on the telegram, and even this seasoned trader couldn't help but whistle.

"Johnny," he said to his young assistant, "it seems the Boss is no longer content with just being an industrial magnate; he's planning to buy ranches and beco a landlord. Oh, I have to say, that's really cool. Western cowboy, bang bang bang."

After the joke, Hayes didn't imdiately give an estimate; this was a massive project requiring ticulous investigation.

The first thing he did was send soone to the land archives in New York to review all public records of western land transactions.

The second thing was to contact a retired forr Departnt of the Interior land surveyor through Argyle Bank's channels, inviting him to dinner under the guise of "private consultation." Hayes knew that to understand the true value of a piece of land, you couldn't just look at maps; you also had to hear what those who had asured that land with their own feet had to say.

anwhile, at Argyle Empire Bank.

President Templeton also received his assignnt. He imdiately called the head of the bank's legal departnt and the supervisor of the newly established "Agricultural Credit Departnt" to his office.

"Gentlen," Templeton's tone was as steady as ever, "the Boss has new instructions. Imdiately initiate a comprehensive study of the Hostead Act and land transaction regulations in the western states."

"Legal Departnt," he looked at the chief lawyer, "I need you to provide with a detailed report within two weeks. The report should include the legal risks that Arican citizens need to avoid when buying and holding large-scale land in the West, and how to establish the safest legal firewall through trusts and nominee holdings."

"Agricultural Credit Departnt," he turned to the other supervisor, "your task is to evaluate the financial model required to establish a ranch with tens of thousands of cattle in Nebraska, from purchasing calves, hiring cowboys, to building fences and reserving winter fodder. I need costs precise down to every single cow and every single fence post."

Felix's business machine, in a rigorous and efficient manner, was conducting the most detailed sand table exercises for his upcoming grand gamble in the West.

However, just as Felix's gaze was focused on the distant western horizon, a new storm quietly arrived.

An urgent telegram, also from Chicago, broke the calm at the New York headquarters. The telegram was from Charles Reeves, full of anger and worry between the lines.

Catherine handed him the translated ssage, "Felix, sothing has happened with Mr. Reeves."

Felix took the telegram and quickly scanned it.

"...The Eastern Railroad Alliance, those bastards led by Sloan, they've started again," Reeves wrote in the telegram.

"Three days ago, they jointly announced that they would reduce the freight prices for all industrial goods shipped from New York and Philadelphia to Chicago by thirty percent. This is almost operating at cost. Our company's most profitable eastbound routes lost more than half of their custors overnight. They want to drag us to death with a price war."

"That's not all." The next paragraph of the telegram revealed a deeper attack, "My application to the Illinois State Assembly for a permit to lay new tracks to Nebraska has been 'indefinitely postponed.' My informant tells that Sloan's friends in the State Assembly are obstructing it. They are using political maneuvering to cut off our legs for westward expansion."

Catherine's expression was sowhat solemn.

"Felix, this is a two-front war. Armour and Sloan are undermining our raw material base in the West, while simultaneously attacking our transportation arteries in the East with a price war and political maneuvering. They want to make it so we can't attend to both sides."

Felix's face showed no surprise or panic, his fingers tapping on the telegram.

After all, Sloan had declared war on him when he was in tropolitan Chicago, but he hadn't expected the attack to be launched after such a long ti.

"A good choice, to seize my lifeline at this mont." After a long pause, he slowly spoke, "But unfortunately, they underestimated my resolve."

Felix walked to the giant federal map.

"Catherine, look." He pointed to the map, "They want to use a price war to drain Reeves' cash flow, making him unable to bear losses and even less able to undertake new expansion. And our plan to acquire ranches happens to need railroads to support the largest scale of expansion. The solution to these two things is the sa. What do you think of?"

"Capital," Catherine said without needing to think.

Felix replied, "Exactly, and it's an overwhelming capital investnt that they cannot comprehend."

He returned to his desk, "Catherine, take this down. Send a reply to Charles."

"Charles, ignore their price war. Maintain current freight rates and ensure service quality. I will inject another one hundred thousand dollars of special operating funds into Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. Use my money to burn through their price war. At the sa ti, send people to gain the friendship of more state assembly mbers, accelerate your expansion plan, and lay new tracks into Nebraska for as quickly as possible."

"Write another one for Tom."

"Execute the previous plan, quietly acquiring shares of Pennsylvania Railroad. The pace can be slowed, but don't stop. Additionally, I need you to imdiately provide with a detailed financial analysis of Philip Armour's at processing company. I need to know if that company is publicly listed and what its ownership structure is."

Previously, Felix had chosen not to act against them due to war and political reasons, but now that they had jumped out and made the first move, he had a reason to retaliate.

Catherine quickly recorded, her heart also accelerating.

Felix not only did not back down from the opponent's attack but chose the strongest form of counterattack. He intended to tie up the Eastern Railroad Alliance's energy with a direct war of attrition; at the sa ti, he seed to have set his sights on another giant in the West—Philip Armour.

When Catherine handed the two drafted telegrams to Felix for confirmation, she couldn't help but ask, "Felix, do we really need to invest so much capital on two fronts simultaneously? This is a bit risky."

Felix picked up a pen and signed his na on the telegram drafts.

Looking into Catherine's sapphire-blue eyes, Felix's eyes sparkled with confidence, "My dear, they want to compare whose money is more, and who can withstand losses better."

"Then I will show them."

"How much money an industrialist who owns a bank can actually burn."