“I’ll sue you—­”

“You can sue your head off, young man, and see how much good it will do you.  You surrendered to me your option that Hudner gave you on the Unicorn, and you failed to procure from me in writing an understanding of the agreement between us regarding this split.  You haven’t a leg to stand on!”

Matt Peasley hung his head.

“I didn’t think I had to take business precautions with you, sir,” he said.

“You should take business precautions with anybody and everybody.”

“I thought I was dealing with a man of honor.  Everybody has always told me that Cappy Ricks’—­”

“How dare you call me Cappy?”

“—­word was as good as his bond.”

“And so it is, my boy.  You’ll get your money, but you’ll wait for it; and meantime I’ll invest it for you.  As I said before, you’ve had a taste of business and found it pretty sweet—­so sweet, in fact, that you think you’re a business man.  Well, hereafter you’ll remember, when you’re making a contract with anybody, to get it down in black and white; and then you’ll have something to fight about if you’re not satisfied.  Now, by the time you’re skipper of steam you’ll be worth a nice little pile of money; you can buy a piece of the big freighter I’m going to build for you and it’ll pay you thirty per cent.  Remember, Matt, I always make my skippers own a piece of the vessel they command.  That gives ’em an interest in their job and they don’t waste their owner’s money.”

“I won’t be dictated to!” Matt cried desperately.  “I’m free, white and—­”

“Twenty-three!” jeered Cappy.  “You big, awkward pup!  How dare you growl at me!  I know what’s good for you.  You go to sea on the Gualala.”

“I must decline—­”

“Oh, all right!  Have it your own way,” said Cappy.  “But, at the rate you’ve been blowing your money in on Florry for the past two weeks, I’ll bet your wad has dwindled since you struck town.  I’ve put that thousand dollars out on mortgage for you, and Skinner has the mortgage in the company safe, where you can’t get at it to hock it when your last dollar is gone.  And he has the bond there too; so it does appear to me, Matt, that if you want any money to spend you’ll have to get a job and earn it.  I have the bulge on you, young fellow, and don’t you forget it!”

Matt Peasley rose, walked to the window and stood looking down into California Street.  He was so mad there were tears in his eyes, and he longed to say things to Cappy Ricks—­only, for the sake of Miss Florence Ricks, he could not abuse her sire.  Once he half turned, only to meet Cappy’s glittering eyes fixed on him with a steadiness of purpose that argued only too well the fact that the old man could not be bluffed, cajoled, bribed or impressed.

Presently Matt Peasley turned from the window.

“Where does the Gualala lie, sir?” he asked gruffly.

“Howard Street Wharf, Number One, Matt,” Cappy replied cheerfully.  “I think she had bedbugs in her cabin, but I’m not sure.  I wouldn’t go within a block of her myself.”