“I guess that’s friendly enough,” he soliloquized.  “I think he’ll understand.  I don’t have to crawl in the dirt to let him know I’m sorry.”

Cappy had recovered his composure by the following morning and was addressing Mr. Skinner as “Skinner, my dear boy,” when another telegram from Matt Peasley created a very distinct variation in his mental compass.  It ran as follows: 

  Alden P. Ricks,
    258 California St.
      San Francisco.

X. & Y. copper paint no good.  That brand used last time; hence worms got to her quickly.  Giving her two coats O. & Z. Costs more, but does the business.  Renewed about a dozen planks.  Repair bill about offsets profit on that infernal nitrate.  Your apology accepted, but do not say that again!

Peasley.

“‘Your apology is accepted!’” Cappy’s voice rose, shrill with anger.  “Why, the infernal—­er—­er—­porpoise!  Me apologize to a man I employ!  By jingo, I’d fire him first!  Yes, sir—­fire him like that!” The old man snapped his fingers.

“Really, Skinner, I don’t know what I’m going to do about the man Peasley.  I want to befriend him, because he’s one of my own people, so to speak; but I greatly fear, Skinner, I shall have to rough him.  Here he is, disputing with me—­with me, Skinner—­the relative merits of copper paint.  And not only disputing, sir, but disobeying my specific instructions.  Also, he permits himself the luxury of criticism.  Well!  I’ll not fire him this time; but, by the gods, I’ll give him a blowing-up he’ll remember.  Skinner, send in a stenographer.”

“Take letter,” the old man ordered presently, and proceeded to dictate: 

  Captain Matthew Peasley,
    Master Barkentine Retriever,
      Care Rainier M. & L. Co.,
        Tacoma, Washington.

  Sir:—­Your night letter of the fifth is before me and treasured
  for its unparalleled effrontery.

Please be advised that in future, when an extraordinary outlay of cash for your vessel’s accounts is contemplated, this office should first be consulted.  When, in your judgment, your vessel requires docking, repairs, new spars, canvas, and so on, you will apprise us before proceeding to run up a bill of expense on your owners.  Your business is to navigate your vessel.  Spending money judiciously is a fine art which no sailor, to my knowledge, has ever acquired.

Though admitting that the vessel needed docking, I maintain you should have wired us of that fact, whereupon we would have ordered you to the dry dock patronized by this company.  It is customary for owners to express a preference for dry docks and copper paint; and in presuming to go counter to my specific instructions in the matter of paint you are prejudicing your future prospects with this company.

Another exhibition of your arrogance, impudence, general bad manners and lack of knowledge of the ethics of your profession will result in prompt dismissal from the service of the Blue Star Navigation Company.

                                      Yours, and so on,
                                        Alden P. Ricks, President