Cappy Ricks Part 14

"I know," Cappy replied sadly; "but then, you know, Skinner, the good Lord must certainly hate a bootlicker! Skinner, I simply cannot afford to lose those two d.a.m.ned scoundrels in the Retriever. They're good men!

And a good man who knows he's good will not take any slack from man or devil; so I cannot afford to lose those two. Skinner, I've got myself into an awful mess. Here I've been running by dead reckoning and now I'm on the rocks! What'll I do, Skinner? I'm licked; but, dang it all, sir, I can't admit it, can I? Isn't there some way to referee this sc.r.a.p and call it a draw?"

"I see no way out of it now except to send another captain to Tacoma."

"Skinner," he declared, "you're absolutely no use to me in an emergency.

When I made you my general manager, on a bank president's salary, I thought I'd be able to take it easy for the rest of my life." He wagged his head sadly. "And what's the result? I work harder than ever.

Skinner, if I hadn't any more imagination than you possess I'd be out there on the corner of California and Market Streets peddling lead pencils this minute. Leave this problem to me, Skinner. I suppose I'll find a way out of it, with entire honor to all concerned. Holy sailor!"

he added. "But that man Murphy is loyal--and loyalty is a pretty scarce commodity these days, let me tell you!"

CHAPTER XVII. CAPPY FORCES AN ARMISTICE

During the week that succeeded, Cappy Ricks did not once mention the subject of the Retriever and her recalcitrant skipper and mate; and Mr.

Skinner argued from this that all was well. Finally one day Cappy came into the office and paused beside the general manager's desk. He was grinning like a boy.

"Well, Skinner," he piped. "I've just come from the Merchants' Exchange and I see by the blackboard that our Retriever cleared for Antof.a.gasta yesterday."

"Indeed!" Mr. Skinner replied politely. "So you found a captain for her.

Whom did you send?"

"n.o.body," the old man cackled. "Matt Peasley took her out, and the manager of the Rainier mill wires me that Murphy went with him as chief kicker. What do you think of that?"

"Why, I'm--er--satisfied if you are, sir."

"Well, you can bet I'm satisfied. If I wasn't I'd have a revenue cutter out after the man Peasley and his mate right now. By golly, Skinner," he piped, and slapped his wizened flank, "I tell you I've worked this deal pretty slick, if I do say it myself. And all on dead reckoning--dead reckoning, and not a single day of demurrage!"

"Oh! So you wired Peasley and the mate and asked them to go back to work and forget they were discharged?" Mr. Skinner suggested witheringly.

"Skinner, on my word, you grow worse every day. You've been with me, man and boy, twenty-odd years, and in all that time you never saw anybody cover me with blood, did you?"

"No, sir."

"And you never will. Why, I managed this affair by simply forgetting all about it! When you're in a jam, Skinner, always let the other fellow do the talking. I just sat tight until I had a telegram from the man Peasley, informing me that the vessel would be loaded in two days and that his successor had not appeared as yet. I threw that telegram in my wastebasket; and when the vessel was loaded I had another telegram from Peasley, saying that the vessel was loaded, that his successor was still missing, and the mill manager was kicking and insisting that the s.h.i.+p be hauled away from the dock to make room for a steam schooner which wanted to load. So I filed that telegram in the wastebasket also. It was a night letter, delivered in the morning.

"When Peasley didn't get an answer by noon he wired again, saying that, as a favor to me, he would haul the Retriever into the stream, but would accept no responsibility for delay thereafter. He said further that, as a courtesy to me and his successor, he was s.h.i.+pping a crew that day in order that there might be no delay in sailing when the new captain arrived; so I thought I had better reply to that telegram, Skinner--and I did!"

"What did you say, Mr. Ricks?"

"I said: 'Please do not annoy me with your telegrams. You were fired a week ago, but it seems difficult for you to realize that fact. If demurrage results through my failure to get new skipper there in time, that is no skin off your nose. Your pay goes on until you are relieved, and you will be relieved when I get good and ready.' That telegram did the business, Skinner. He received it the day before yesterday and yesterday he towed out!"

Cappy Ricks burst into a shrill senile cackle that was really good to hear. As they grow old most men lose that capacity for a hearty laugh, but Cappy's perversity had kept him young at heart. The tears of mirth cascaded down his seamed old countenance now, and he had to sit down and have his laugh out.

"Oh, thunder!" he panted. "Really, Skinner--there's so much fun in business I wonder why a man can retire--just because he's made his pile!

Skinner, I had it on the man Peasley a thousand miles--and he never guessed it! Dear, dear me! You see, Skinner, when he wired me he would not accept responsibility for demurrage to the vessel after she was loaded and hauled into the stream, he forgot that he had to accept responsibility for the vessel himself until his successor should arrive!

"Of course, the man Murphy could quit any time he desired; but if the skipper deserted the s.h.i.+p before being properly relieved, and then something happened to the vessel and I preferred charges against him, the inspectors might be induced to revoke his license--and he realized that. The knowledge made him hopping mad, Skinner; and when he got my telegram I knew he would begin to figure out some plan to make me mad! And, of course, I knew Murphy would help him out--the Irish are imaginative and vindictive; and--oh, dear me, Skinner--read that!" And Cappy handed his general manager the following telegram:

You are right. I will be relieved when I get good and ready, and I will not be ready until I get back from Antof.a.gasta.

s.h.i.+pped crew yesterday afternoon. All arrived drunk. Next morning all hands sober. Realizing predicament, riot resulted.

Fearing lose crew, Murphy and I manhandled and locked in fo'castle. When your telegram arrived it found Murphy minus front tooth, myself black eye. Can stand injury, but not insult. Hence you are stuck with us for another voyage, whether you want us or not. Will have towed out by time you receive this. Go to Halifax!

Peasley.

Mr. Skinner's face was cold and austere as he handed this telegram back to Cappy.

"So you made peace with honor, eh?" he sneered.

"Peace your grandmother!" Cappy chirped. "This war goes on until I get a letter from the man Peasley. Skinner, he and Murphy think they've done something wonderfully brilliant. When I wired him he would be relieved when I got good and ready it did him an awful lot of good to throw the words back in my face. Sure, Skinner! They think they're giving Cappy Ricks the merry ha-ha!"

"Well, of course, sir,"' said Mr. Skinner, "if this sort of horseplay is your fun--if it's your notion of business--I have no comment. You own fifteen-sixteenths of the Retriever, and you can afford to pay for your fancies; but if it was the last act of my life I'd fire that man Peasley in Callao and let him get home as best he could."

"Yes; I know," Cappy replied bitterly. "You fired him in Cape Town once--and how did he come home? He came home in the cabin of the Retriever--that's how he came home; and the Terrible Swede I sent to thrash him and fire him came home under hatches. Yes; you'd do a lot of things, Skinner--in your mind."

Mr. Skinner pounded his desk savagely. Cappy's retort made him boiling mad.

"Well, I'll bet I'd do something," he rasped. "I'd make that bucko suffer or I'd know the reason why."

"Skinner, that's just what we're going to do--just what we're doing, in fact. One of my ancestors sailed with the late John Paul Jones and ever since the Ricks' family motto has been: 'I have not yet begun to fight.'

Now listen to reason, Skinner. The Retriever just came off dry-dock, didn't she? Well, it stands to reason she was dirty after that last cargo of creosoted piling; and it stands to reason, also, that the man Peasley slicked her up with white paint until she looked like an Easter bride. A Scandinavian doesn't give a hoot if his vessel is tight, well found and ready for sea; but a Yankee takes a tremendous pride in his s.h.i.+p and likes to keep her looking like a yacht. And just think, Skinner, how the man Peasley must have felt when he came off dry dock, all clean and nice, and then had to slop her up with another cargo of creosoted piling? Just think of that, Skinner!" and again he commenced his insane cackle.

"I have other, and more important things to think about," Mr. Skinner retorted icily. As a business man he was opposed to levity in the office. "What are your plans with reference to the Retriever? Do you wish to bring her back from Antof.a.gasta in ballast?"

"Why, certainly not. Hunt a cargo for her, Skinner. We might just as well let the man Peasley know that though he's gone he's not forgotten.

Use the cable freely and see if you can't pick up something for the return trip that will make those two firebrands sick at the stomach."

A month later Mr. Skinner stepped into Cappy's sanctum.

"Well," he announced. "I've got a return cargo for the Retriever."

"What have you got?" Cappy demanded anxiously; and Mr. Skinner told him.

"No?" said Cappy incredulously.

"Yes!" Mr. Skinner a.s.sured him.

Cappy's laughter testified to his hearty approval.

"Skinner, my dear boy," he cried. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

And then he laid his wicked old head on his desk and laughed until he wept. Indeed, Mr. Skinner so far forgot his code as to laugh with him.

"We'll stink those two vagabonds--those maritime outlaws--out of the s.h.i.+p," he declared.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE WAR IS RENEWED