“Oh, thunder!” he panted.  “Really, Skinner—­there’s so much fun in business I wonder why a man can retire—­just because he’s made his pile!  Skinner, I had it on the man Peasley a thousand miles—­and he never guessed it!  Dear, dear me!  You see, Skinner, when he wired me he would not accept responsibility for demurrage to the vessel after she was loaded and hauled into the stream, he forgot that he had to accept responsibility for the vessel himself until his successor should arrive!

“Of course, the man Murphy could quit any time he desired; but if the skipper deserted the ship before being properly relieved, and then something happened to the vessel and I preferred charges against him, the inspectors might be induced to revoke his license—­and he realized that.  The knowledge made him hopping mad, Skinner; and when he got my telegram I knew he would begin to figure out some plan to make me mad!  And, of course, I knew Murphy would help him out—­the Irish are imaginative and vindictive; and—­oh, dear me, Skinner—­read that!” And Cappy handed his general manager the following telegram: 

You are right.  I will be relieved when I get good and ready, and I will not be ready until I get back from Antofagasta.  Shipped crew yesterday afternoon.  All arrived drunk.  Next morning all hands sober.  Realizing predicament, riot resulted.  Fearing lose crew, Murphy and I manhandled and locked in fo’castle.  When your telegram arrived it found Murphy minus front tooth, myself black eye.  Can stand injury, but not insult.  Hence you are stuck with us for another voyage, whether you want us or not.  Will have towed out by time you receive this.  Go to Halifax!

Peasley.

Mr. Skinner’s face was cold and austere as he handed this telegram back to Cappy.

“So you made peace with honor, eh?” he sneered.

“Peace your grandmother!” Cappy chirped.  “This war goes on until I get a letter from the man Peasley.  Skinner, he and Murphy think they’ve done something wonderfully brilliant.  When I wired him he would be relieved when I got good and ready it did him an awful lot of good to throw the words back in my face.  Sure, Skinner!  They think they’re giving Cappy Ricks the merry ha-ha!”

“Well, of course, sir,"’ said Mr. Skinner, “if this sort of horseplay is your fun—­if it’s your notion of business—­I have no comment.  You own fifteen-sixteenths of the Retriever, and you can afford to pay for your fancies; but if it was the last act of my life I’d fire that man Peasley in Callao and let him get home as best he could.”

“Yes; I know,” Cappy replied bitterly.  “You fired him in Cape Town once—­and how did he come home?  He came home in the cabin of the Retriever—­that’s how he came home; and the Terrible Swede I sent to thrash him and fire him came home under hatches.  Yes; you’d do a lot of things, Skinner—­in your mind.”

Mr. Skinner pounded his desk savagely.  Cappy’s retort made him boiling mad.