“And you never will, Skinner.  Paste that in your hat, boy.  That big Swede, Peterson, can handle a ship as well as he can handle a refractory mate—­and that’s going some, Skinner—­going some!  I’m not surprised at his fast passage.  Not at all, Skinner.  Come to think of it, I’m going to fire that Scotchman in the Fortuna and give All Hands And Feet his berth.  He has earned it.”

He adjusted his spectacles and read: 

Hoquiam, Washington,
June 27, 19—.

Blue Star Navigation Company,
258 California St.,
San Francisco.

Arrived this morning, seventy-nine days from bar to bar, all hands well, including your special messenger.  Offered him job as second mate, just to show I had no hard feelings, but he would not work, so I brought him home under hatches.  Permitted him present his formal credentials this morning and turned over command of ship to him.  Declined responsibility and left, saying you had promised him command four-masted schooner.  Seemed trifle hurt, although it is seventy-nine days since I thrashed him.  Consequently I am still in command and awaiting your instructions.

Peasley.

For a long time Cappy Ricks kept looking sternly at Mr. Skinner over the tops of his spectacles.  There was blood on the moon again, and the silence was terrible.  He kept rocking gently backward and forward in his swivel chair, for all the world as though preparing for a panther-like spring at Mr. Skinner’s throat.  Suddenly he exploded.

“I won’t have another thing to do with the man Peasley!” he shrilled.  “The fellow is a thorn in my side and I want peace!  Understand, Skinner?  I—­want—­peace!  What in blue blazes do I pay you ten thousand a year for if it isn’t to give me peace?  Answer me that, Skinner.”

“Well you said you wanted to attend to the shipping—­”

“That’ll do, Skinner—­that’ll do!  You’re an honorary member of the I-told-you-so Club and I’m thoroughly disgusted with you.  Rid me of this man—­immediately.  If I ever get another telegram from the scoundrel I shall hold you personally responsible.”

Forthwith Mr. Skinner acted.  He went up to the office of the United States District Attorney and swore out a Federal warrant for the arrest of Matthew Peasley on a charge of mutiny and insubordination, assault and battery on the high seas, and everything else he could think of.  The authorities promptly wired north to send a United States marshal down to Grays Harbor to arrest the culprit; and the following afternoon, when Cappy Ricks got back to his office after luncheon and picked up the paper, the very first thing his glance rested on was the headline: 

          Matecharged with mutiny!

Mutiny and sundry other crimes on the high seas are out of the ordinary; hence the United Press correspondent at Hoquiam had considered the story of Matt Peasley’s arrest worthy of dissemination over the Pacific Coast.