Cappy Ricks | Page 9

the name of Matthew Peasley.
Cape Town, February 15, --.
Bluestar, San Francisco:
Captain knifed Kru boy argument boat fare. Instruct consignees honor

my drafts as captain.
Matthew Peasley, Mate.
"The murdering black hound!" Cappy murmured in an awed voice. "If
he hasn't gone and killed the best skipper I ever had! Poor Kendall!
Why, Noah and I were good friends, Skinner. Every time the Retriever
touched in at her home port I always had Noah Kendall up to the house
for dinner, and we went to the theatre together afterward. Thank God!
It isn't a week since his life insurance premium fell due and I had the
cashier pay it."
Cappy sat gazing dejectedly at the carpet.
"Poor old Cap'n Noah!" he soliloquized aloud. "Twenty-five years you
sailed under the Blue Star, and in all that time there was never once
when I had to jack up and tell you to 'tend to business. And, Noah, you
could make a suit of sails last longer than any man I ever knew; but you
did have a hell of a temper." And having delivered this touching eulogy
on the late Captain Kendall, Cappy roused himself and faced Skinner.
"I should say I have a job on my hands," he announced, "with the finest
sailing ship in the fleet down in South Africa without a skipper!
Skinner, I'll tell you what you do, my boy: You dictate the nicest letter
you know how to dictate to Noah's widow, up in Port Townsend. Tell
her how much we thought of Noah and extend our sympathy, and a
check for his next three months' salary. Put her on my private pension
list, Skinner, and send her Cap'n Noah's salary every quarter-day as
long as she lives. Tell her we'll attend to the collection of the life
insurance and will bring Noah's body home to Port Townsend at our
own expense. It's the least we can do, Skinner. He was the only skipper
I ever had who did not, at one time or another, manage to embroil me
in a lawsuit. Who are our consignees at Cape Town?"
"The Harlow & Benton Company, Limited."
"Cable them for confirmation of the mate's message, and request them
to have Cap'n Noah's body embalmed and shipped to Port Townsend,

Washington, prepaid, deducting charges from our invoice."
CHAPTER V
MATT PEASLEY ASSUMES OFFICE
The death of Captain Noah Kendall, while profoundly deplored by his
next in command, first mate Matthew Peasley, had not been permitted
by that brisk young man to interfere in the least with the task of getting
the cargo out of the Retriever, for sailoring, like soldiering, is a
profession in which sentiment is a secondary consideration. Each day
of demurrage to a ship like the Retriever, even at the prevailing low
freight rate, meant a loss of at least a hundred dollars to the owners, and
since navigating a ship safely and expeditiously is the least of a good
skipper's duties, and since, further, Matt Peasley was determined to be a
skipper in the not very distant future, he concluded to give his owners
evidence of the fact that he was, in addition to being a navigator, also a
first-class "hustler." If the Retriever made a loss on that voyage he was
resolved that no blame should attach to him.
"Skipper's dead, Mike," he announced to Mr. Murphy, the second mate.
"Policeman in a small boat alongside says the old man got into a row
with the Kru boy that rowed him ashore and the black scoundrel
skewered him. I'm going ashore to look after his body and order a tug
to kick us into our berth. I guess the old man didn't get time to attend to
the business that brought him ashore, poor fellow."
"Very well, Sir," Mr. Murphy replied, and murmured some
commonplace expression of regret. He was not particularly shocked for
he had lost shipmates in a hurry before now.
Matt Peasley proceeded to the beach, attended to the necessary details
incident to the skipper's untimely removal, was informed by the Harlow
& Benton Company, Limited, of the location of the berth he was to
discharge, ordered a tug for that afternoon, went to the cable office,
registered his cable address, sent a cablegram to the owners and
returned to the ship.

"Well, Mike," he announced to the second mate, "I guess I'm the
skipper; following the same line of deduction, I guess you're the chief
mate, so I'll move my dunnage into the old man's cabin and you move
into mine. I'll pick up a second mate in Cape Town before we leave."
Mr. Murphy eyed his youthful superior with mild curiosity, not
untempered with amusement. "Thank you for the promotion, Captain
Matt," he replied. "However, if you'll excuse my apparent impudence