“We’re over,” Matt announced cheerfully.  “How did you like the going?”

“You villain!” Skinner cried passionately.  “You’ll never command another ship in the Blue Star fleet, I’ll promise you that.”

“I know it, Skinner.  But if I were you I’d go down in the engine room and dry out while the cook and the steward straighten things round.”

“I’ll discharge you the moment we tie up at the dock in San Francisco,” Skinner stormed.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Matt assured him.  “I’ve beaten you to it.  I resigned by wireless before we left the dock at Eureka.”

That was a long, cold, cheerless trip for the Skinner family.  The Quickstep bucked a howling southeaster all the way down the coast, and the Skinners were knocked from one end of their wet stateroom to the other and slept not a wink.  It was a frightful experience, and to add to the discomfort of the trip Mrs. Skinner wept all the way.  Eventually, however, the Quickstep tied up at the wharf in San Francisco, and the minute she was fast Matt Peasley, his accounts all made up to date and his clothes and personal effects packed, sprang out on the dock.

“There’s your ship, Skinner,” he called to the general manager.  “I’m through.”  And he hastened away to the Blue Star office to settle up with the cashier, while Mr. Skinner and his bride entered a taxicab and were driven to their home.  And two hours later when Mr. Skinner, warm and dry at last, came down to the office to attend to the task of selecting a new master for the Quickstep, he found Cappy Ricks was back from Europe and on the job.

“I hear you’ve been having some experience,” said Cappy cheerfully as he shook hands with his manager.  “Peasley was telling me what he did to you, and all the disrespectful things he said to you.  Skinner, my dear fellow, that was an outrageous way for him to act.”

“I fired him,” said Skinner waspishly.  “And while we’re on the subject let me declare myself about this man Peasley; as long as I remain in your employ, Mr. Ricks, that man must never command another Blue Star vessel.  Do I make myself sufficiently clear?”

“You do, Skinner; you do, indeed,” Cappy answered.  “I warned Matt that if you ever fired him, I’d have to back you up—­and I’ll do it, Skinner.  I’ll sustain your decision, my boy.  As long as you’re my manager that fellow can never go to sea under the Blue Star flag.  The scoundrel!”

“And I wouldn’t recommend him to any other owner either,” Mr. Skinner suggested.

“I’ll not, Skinner.  He will never go to sea again.  I’m not going to have his license taken away from him—­er—­ Hum!  Ahem!  Harump-h-h-h!  But I’ll see that he doesn’t use it again.  The fact is, Skinner, I’m er—­getting—­old—­and—­er—­you’re pretty hard-worked in the lumber department, so I’ve—­Hum!  Harump-h-h-h! decided to relieve you of the shipping entirely and hire Matt for our port captain.