“Well, sir, when the Chehalis got to our mill, Skinner, I ordered them to load her with sinkers—­oh! oh, this will be the death of me yet, Skinner.  And we gave her poor dispatch in loading.  Then she had to lay behind the bar two days longer before she could cross out; and when she got here I ordered her to discharge into the British bark Glengarry—­and discharging from one vessel in to another is the slowest work in the world.  And Hudner—­he’s—­written—­me, Skinner, declaring he’ll never charter a boat to me again; says the Chehalis lost two thousand dollars on the voyage.”  And Cappy went off into a gale of laughter, and handed Skinner the letter to read.

For the benefit of the reader, who may desire a closer insight into Cappy’s Machiavellian nature, be it known that a sinker is a heavy, close-grained clear redwood butt-log, which, if cut in the spring, when the tree is alive with sap, is so heavy it will not float in the millpond; hence the term sinker.  A vessel laden with lumber sawed from sinkers, therefore, will carry just fifty per cent. of her customary cargo; and unless the freight rate be extremely high, she cannot make money.

“Do you know, Skinner,” Cappy announced presently, “I think you’d better hunt up a steady job for me!  Dadding it, boy, I never knew there was so much fun in business until I had practically retired!  Really, Skinner, I must take more interest in my affairs.”

“Here’s something to sharpen your teeth on, Mr. Ricks,” the general manager replied, and presented the cablegram he had been holding for five minutes.

Cappy took it and read, thereby becoming aware for the first time, that he had in his employ an individual by 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.