“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 0.  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?”