While the capable Mr. Skinner was preparing the reply to Matt Peasley's
cablegram, and dictating for Cappy Ricks' signature a letter to Noah
Kendall's widow, Cappy was busy at the telephone. First he retailed the
news to the Merchants' Exchange, to be bulletined on the blackboard and
read by Captain Noah's friends; next he called up the secretary of the
American Shipmasters' Association, of which the deceased had been a
member, and lastly he communicated the sad tidings to the water-front
reporters of all the daily papers. This detail attended to, Cappy's
active mind returned to more practical and profitable affairs, and he
took up Matt Peasley's cablegram. He was deep in a study of it when Mr.
Skinner entered with the letter to Mrs. Kendall.
“'Captain knifed, killed, Kru boy argument boat fare,'” Cappy read
aloud. “Skinner, my dear boy, what is the cable rate per word to Cape
Town?”
“Ninety-eight cents per word,” replied Mr. Skinner, who had just looked
it up.
“We will if you please, Skinner, confine ourselves to round numbers.
There is such a thing as being too exact. Call it a dollar. Figuring on
that basis, I see this garrulous mate has squandered five dollars of our
money to no purpose--yes, by jingo, more than that. He might have used
the code book! Hum-m-m! Ahem! Harump-h-h-h! Skinner, this fellow will
not do. He is too windy. Skinner, he tells the story in eight words, and
forgets to use his code book. Give me a skipper, Skinner, my boy, who
always has his owner's interest at heart and displays a commendable
discretion in limiting the depredations practiced by the cable company.
For instance, the man Peasley might have omitted the word knifed; also
the explanatory words, argument boat fare, and the word mate. Though
regretting Noah's demise most keenly, as business men we are not
cable-gramically interested in the means employed to accomplish his
removal. Neither do the causes leading up to the tragedy interest us.
The man Peasley should merely have said “Captain murdered.” Also, he
might have trusted to us to realize that when the captain dies the first
mate takes charge. He need not have identified himself--the infernal
chatter-box!”
Cappy read the next sentence. “Instruct consignees honor my drafts as
captain.”
“H'm! Harum-ph! He might have said 'please,' Skinner! Sounds devilishly
like an order, the way he puts it. Though he is temporarily in command
I challenge his right to handle our money until I know more about him.
Harum-ph! Reading between the lines, Skinner, I see he says: 'If you
send a skipper to Cape Town to bring the Retriever home while I'm on the
job, you're crazy.' Look over the vouchers in Cap'n Noah's last report
and let us ascertain how long this forceful mate has been in our
employ.”
Now, the ordinary form of receipt to which a seaman puts his signature
when signing clear bears upon its reverse side a series of blank spaces,
which the captain must fill in. These blanks provide for mention of
the date of signing on, date of discharge, station held on vessel
and remarks. On none of the vouchers of the Retriever's last voyage,
however, did the name of Matthew Peasley appear.
“Must have shipped in San Francisco just before the vessel sailed for
her loading port,” Cappy announced. “Send in a boy.”
One of Cappy's young men was summoned.
“Son,” said Cappy, “you run down, like a good boy, to the office of the
Deputy United States Shipping Commissioner and tell him Mr. Ricks
would like to see the duplicate copy of the crew list of the barkentine
Retriever.”
When an American vessel clears for a foreign port the law required
that her crew shall be signed on before a Deputy United States Shipping
Commissioner, who furnishes a certified copy of the crew list to the
captain and retains a duplicate for his own files.
The Blue Star youth returned presently with his duplicate list, on
consulting which, to his unspeakable amazement, Cappy Ricks discovered
that Matthew Peasley had shipped aboard the Retriever as an able seaman,
and that the first mate was one William Olson--which goes to prove that
in the heat of passion a skipper will often discharge a mate on the eve
of sailing for a foreign port and forget to tell the Deputy Shipping
Commissioner anything about it.
“Remarkable,” Cappy declared. “Ree-markable!”
“Dirty work here,” Mr. Skinner announced. “Captain dead and a common
A.B. cabling us for authority to draw drafts as captain, while posing as
first mate. Nigger in the woodpile somewhere, Mr. Ricks.”
“I'll smoke him out in five minutes, Skinner. Ring up the local
inspectors and inquire if, by any chance, they have ever issued a
captain's license to one Matthew Peasley.”
Skinner obeyed. After a brief wait he was informed that the said Peasley
had an unlimited license as first mate of sail, and was entitled to act
as second mate of steam vessels up to five hundred tons net register.
“Nothing doing!” Cappy piped. “Skinner, when a mate with an unlimited
license ships before the mast, THERE'S A REASON!”
“Drunkard!” Mr. Skinner suggested without an instant's hesitation.
“Eggs-actly, Skinner. Good seaman, I daresay, but worthless and
unreliable in an executive capacity, and I can't trust a ripping fine
barkentine like the Retriever with that kind of man. I suppose he feels
the hankering for a spree coming on right now. Skinner, if we gave the
man Peasley permission to draw drafts he'd paint Cape Town red. I feel
it in my bones.”
“So do I, sir.”
“What vessels have we in port at this moment, Skinner?”
“McBride is discharging the Nokomis at Oakland Long Wharf.”
“The ideal man.” Cappy smote his desk. “I've been wanting to promote Mac
into a larger vessel and pay him twenty-five dollars a month more for
the past two years. He's too good for a little hooker like the Nokomis,
and he's got a steady-going Norwegian mate that's been with him in the
Nokomis for three years. Time to take care of that mate. Skinner, I have
an idea. See that it is carried through. McBride's mate shall buy out
Mac's interest in the Nokomis. If he hasn't the money, tell him I'll
lend it to him, secured by the insurance, provided he and McBride can
come to terms. See that they do. Tell Mac he's to have the Retriever,
and I'll arrange to get Cap'n Noah's interest for him from the estate at
a fair figure. Give him expense money and his credentials and tell him
to start for Cape Town tomorrow night; and cable the man Peasley to
retain charge of the vessel at captain's pay until McBride arrives to
relieve him.”
Mr. Skinner retired to his office and got down his code book. The
general manager knew what he desired to say and hoped he might find
something in the code book to help him say it at cut rates, but
despairing after a diligent search he finally evolved and dispatched
this cablegram to Matt Peasley, addressing it to the cable address of
the Retriever.
San Francisco, Feb. 16th, 19--.
Rickstar,
Cape Town.
Peasley, your meager maritime experience renders prohibitive
compliance request. Retain charge master's pay pending arrival
successor.
Bluestar.
Having dispatched his message to Matt Peasley, Mr. Skinner, as he
thought, had dismissed Peasley from his thoughts forever. It would
appear, however, that in this particular the general manager was
counting Mother Carey s chickens before they were hatched. He little
suspected, in his desire to be fair, even at considerable expense, to
inform Matt Peasley just why the Blue Star Navigation Company couldn't
possibly hand over its fine barkentine to a stranger, that he had only
reopened the controversy; that his unfortunate reference to “meager
maritime experience” had flicked Matt Peasley on a raw spot and been
provocative of this reply, received the same day:
Cape Town, Feb. 16, 19--.
Bluestar,
San Francisco.
Skipper dying sea foreign port unwritten maritime law
stipulates mate succeeds. Yankee can sail anything afloat.
This my chance. Grant it or insure successor's life. Will
throw him overboard on arrival.
Peasley.
Mr. Skinner promptly carried this defi to Cappy Ricks.
“He's a sea-lawyer,” Cappy piped angrily. “The scoundrel! The
un-mi-ti-ga-ted--scoundrel! Cable him instantly, Skinner, that if he
spends another cent of our money in unnecessary cablegrams I'll fire
him.” He snapped his fingers. “Attend to it, Skinner, attend to it.”
Mr. Skinner attended to it, and the following morning he found this
reply on his desk when he came down to work:
Cape Town, Feb. 17, 19--.
Bluestar,
San Francisco.
Holler when you're hit. Paid for it myself. Am I to bring
Retriever home?
Peasley.
“I dare say the fellow did,” Mr. Skinner informed Cappy. “He has four
months' wages coming to him at sixty dollars a month--and if he didn't,
why, I'll instruct McBride to deduct the cable charges from his wages
when he pays him off.”
“I think your reference to his meager maritime experience annoyed him,
Skinner,” Cappy suggested thoughtfully. “It may be that he is a most
excellent sailor. At least, he spends his money like one.”
Cappy had no further comment to make, and the reply to this impudent
communication was accordingly left to Mr. Skinner, who cabled:
San Francisco, Feb. 17th, 19--.
Rickstar,
Cape Town.
No!
Bluestar.
“I think that will settle the upstart,” Mr. Skinner declared confidently
as he rang for a messenger boy.
It did not. Four hours later he received this:
Cape Town, Feb. 17, 19--.
Bluestar,
San Francisco.
Why?
Peasley.
Now it was a custom of Mr. Skinner's, when a subordinate laid claim
to an inalienable right which the general manager was not willing to
concede, to regard with very grave suspicion that subordinate's loyalty
to the company. If the subordinate protested Mr. Skinner would warn him,
kindly, quietly, but none the less forcefully; and if he persisted Mr.
Skinner would dispense with the services of that subordinate so fast the
offender, nine times out of ten, would be left standing in a sort of
fog and blinking at the suddenness with which the metaphorical can had,
metaphorically speaking, been tied to his caudal appendage. Every
large business office has its Skinner--a queer combination of decency,
honesty, brains and brutality, a worshiper at the shrine of Mammon
in the temple of the great god Business, a reactionary Republican,
treasurer of his church and eventually a total loss from diabetes,
brought on by lack of exercise and worry over trifles.
However, to return to our particular Mr. Skinner and Matt Peasley, the
rebellious. In all justice to Skinner it must be admitted that his first
impulse with reference to Matt Peasley was eminently fair. He really
desired to convey to this persistent person an intimation to the effect
that the latter was, colloquially speaking, monkeying with the buzz-saw
and in imminent danger of having his head lopped off; and he would have
given it, too, provided the delivery of the ultimatum should not
have cost the Blue Star Navigation Company ninety-eight cents a word,
including the address. Consequently, Skinner, always efficient and
realizing that McBride would doubtless be enabled to pick up another
mate in Cape Town, or in a pinch, could dispense with a first mate
altogether, made answer to Matt Peasley as follows:
San Francisco, Feb. 17th, 19--.
Rickstar,
Cape Town.
Peasley, you are hereby discharged. Turn over command second
mate, call consignees your wages immediately.
Bluestar.
Having dispatched this cablegram and ended it all, as it were, Mr.
Skinner next cast his cold gray glance adown the duplicate crew list
borrowed from the deputy shipping commissioner, and discovered that the
second mate shipped at San Francisco was one Christian Swenson.
“I do hope he's not a drinking man,” Skinner sighed. “The Retriever is
quite a responsibility to entrust to a man we have never seen or
heard of before, but the man Swenson can scarcely be as vicious and
insubordinate as this fellow Peasley, and under the circumstances we'll
have to run the risk.”
And having wotted the which, Mr. Skinner cabled Christian Swenson to
take charge of the Retriever, at master's wages, until the arrival of
his successor. Next he cabled The Harlow and Benton Company, Limited,
requesting them to pay off Matt Peasley and, if necessary, invoke the
authorities to remove him from the vessel.
“That fellow is a tough one to handle,” he remarked to Cappy Ricks, to
whom he showed all the cablegrams, “but I guess this will about cut off
his wind.”
“A sea lawyer is the curse of the Seven Seas!” Cappy declared waspishly.
He was very bitter against Matt Peasley, whom he now regarded as an ally
of the piratical cable company.