That afternoon Mr. Skinner herded Captain McBride of the Nokomis and
his Norwegian mate into Cappy Ricks' office. Cappy brought them to terms
very promptly, and the captain started for New York on the Overland the
same night. From New York he was to take passage to Liverpool, thence
via the A. D. line to Cape Town. Cappy almost had a bloody sweat when
he reflected on the expense for provisions and wages for the crew
during the weeks of idleness while McBride was on the way to join the
Retriever. Both he and Mr. Skinner had decided that nothing could be
gained by informing McBride, who was a little, mild-mannered gentleman
with gold eyeglasses, of the potential ducking that awaited him at the
hands of Matt Peasley; for just before McBride said good-bye and started
for the train Cappy and Mr. Skinner discovered that their apple cart
again had been upset. The following cablegram received from Matt Peasley
knocked into a cocked hat all their high hopes of ridding themselves of
the incubus.
Cape Town, Feb. 17, 19--.
Bluestar,
San Francisco.
Swenson fired before leaving San Francisco. Second mate Murphy
declines take your orders, claiming me superior officer; I
decline also, claiming captain en route my superior officer.
Owner can fire captain but only captain can fire or disrate
ship's officers. Besides I shipped for the round trip.
Peasley.
“Well,” said Cappy, “what do you know about that? He clings to us like
a barnacle or a poor relation--and the worst of it is the damned sea
lawyer is absolutely right. We have no authority to fire him, Skinner.
Just think of a government that will permit such a ridiculous state of
affairs as that to exist! Think of it, Skinner! We hire the man Peasley
but we can't fire him--and in the meantime he'll roost in Cap'n Noah's
cabin and run up bills on us and consume our groceries and draw master's
pay until McBride arrives and discharges him.”
For geographical and financial reasons Cappy Ricks was barred from
quarreling with Matt Peasley. However, he was as cross as a setting hen
and just naturally had to vent his displeasure on somebody, and as
he paid Mr. Skinner a very large salary to be his general manager, he
figured he could afford to quarrel with Skinner. So he said:
“Well, Skinner, if you hadn't butted in on the shipping end of the
business the man Peasley would not have been given this opening to
swat us. It's nuts for a sailor any time he can trip up a landsman, and
particularly his owners--”
“You O.K.'d the cablegrams, Mr. Ricks,” Skinner reminded him coldly.
“Don't talk back to me!” Cappy piped. “Not another peep out of you,
sir! Not another word of discussion about this matter under any
circumstances! I don't want to talk about it further--understand? It's
driving me insane. Now, then, Skinner, tell me: If the man Peasley
should decline to recognize McBride's authority, what course would you
advise pursuing?”
“I do not think he will be that arbitrary, Mr. Ricks. In the first
place--”
“Skinner, please do not argue with me. The man Peasley would do
anything--”
“Well, in that event, McBride can call in the civil authorities of Cape
Town, to remove Peasley by force from the ship.”
“Skinner, you'll drive me to drink! I ask you, has a British official
any authority over an American vessel lying in the roadstead? Will a
foreign official dare to set foot on an American deck when an American
skipper orders him not to do so?”
“I am not a sea lawyer,” Mr. Skinner retorted, “I do not know.”
“The Retriever will have discharged her cargo weeks before McBride
arrives. Then suppose Peasley takes a notion to warp his vessel outside
the three-mile limit. What authority has McBride got then?”
“I repeat, I am not a sea lawyer, Mr. Ricks.”
“Don't equivocate with me, Skinner! Let's argue this question calmly,
coolly and deliberately. Don't lose your temper. Now then. Peasley said
he'd throw his successor overboard, didn't he?”
“Oh, merely a threat, Mr. Ricks.”
“Skinner, you're a fine, wise manager! A threat, eh?” Cappy laughed--a
short, scornful laugh. “Huh! Threat! Joke!”
“You do not think it is a threat?”
“No, sir. It's a promise. McBride is a splendid little man and game to
the core; but no good, game little man will ever stay on a deck if a
good, game big man takes a notion to throw him overboard, and the man
Peasley is both big and game, otherwise he would not defy us. Why,
Skinner, that fellow wouldn't pause at anything. Hasn't he spent over
a hundred dollars arguing with us by cable? Why, he's a desperate
character! Also, he would not threaten to throw his successor overboard
if he didn't know that he was fully capable of so doing. Paste that
in your hat, Skinner. It isn't done.” Skinner inclined his head
respectfully. Cappy continued: “What I should have done was to have sent
a good, game, big man--”
He paused, and his glance met Skinner's wonderingly as a bright idea
leaped into his cunning brain and crystallized into definite purpose. He
sprang up, waved his skinny old arms, and kicked the waste-basket into a
corner of the room.
“I have it, Skinner! I've solved the problem. Go back and 'tend to your
lumber business and leave the man Peasley to me. I'll tan that fellow's
hide and hang it on my fence, just as sure as George Washington crossed
the Delaware River.”
Mr. Skinner, glad to be excused, promptly made his escape. When Cappy
Ricks stripped for action, Mr. Skinner knew from long experience that
there was going to be a fight or a foot race; that whenever the old
gentleman set out to confound an enemy, the inevitable result was
wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth, in which doleful form of
exercise Cappy Ricks had never been known to participate.
“Send in a boy!” Cappy ordered as the general manager withdrew.
The boy appeared. “Sonny,” said Cappy Ricks, “do you know All Hands And
Feet?” The boy nodded and Cappy continued: “Well, you go down on the
Embarcadero, like a good boy, and cruise from Folsom Street to Broadway
Wharf Number Two until you find All Hands and Feet. Look in front of
cigar stands and in the shipchandlery stores; and if you don't find
him in those places run over to the assembly rooms of Harbor Fifteen,
Masters' and Pilots' Association, and see if he's there, playing
checkers. When you find him tell him Mr. Ricks wants to see him at
once.”