“Don’t talk to me of efficiency,” Cappy snarled.  “What’s the sense rushing the vessel round Robin Hood’s barn to make dividends, if we lose them in lawsuits?”

“His vessel didn’t lay up during the strike of the Waterfront Federation in 1903,” Skinner challenged.  “You bet she didn’t!  Kjellin rustled up a scab crew and kept the mob off the vessel at the point of a gun.  I understand he’s a bit short-tempered, but while there are ships with red-blooded men in them, Mr. Ricks, we must expect the men to pull off a couple of rounds with skin gloves every so often.”

Cappy looked over the rims of his spectacles at Mr. Skinner.  “Skinner,” he said impressively, “listen to me:  This is the last suit that’s going to be entered against the Quickstep.  Was that man Halvor Jacobsen who is suing us second mate on the Quickstep?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I knew it,” Cappy shrilled triumphantly.  “Skinner, with all your efficiency ideas, you fail to see anything remarkable in that fact.  Now don’t tell me you do, because I know you do not.  This is the third suit since Kjellin took charge, and that’s proof enough for me that there’s something wrong with that big Finn.  Those other two suits were for injuries received by men loading cargo in the after hold.  The after hold is presided over by the second mate.”  Cappy waved his hands.  “Huh!” he said.  “Simple!”

“I believe I comprehend,” Mr. Skinner admitted.  “But what are you going to do about it?  We can scarcely discharge Kjellin without a hearing and without proof that he is to blame.”

“What am I going to do about it?” Cappy echoed.  “Why, I’m going to send a judge and a jury aboard the Quickstep, try this Finn, Kjellin, and if he’s guilty of dereliction of duty I’ll bet you a plug hat to one small five-cent bag of smoking tobacco I’ll know all about it inside of a week.”

“Do you mean to put a secret-service operative aboard disguised as a deckhand?”

“Huh!  Skinner, you distress me.  I’m going to put Matt Peasley aboard the Quickstep as second mate, and let Nature take its course.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sir,” Mr. Skinner advised.  “That rowdy Peasley and a man like Kjellin will not get along together for one voyage; then Kjellin will fire him, and first thing you know you’ll be groping around in the dark again.”

“Oh, I know this Finn is a pet of yours,” Cappy retorted acidly, “but Matt Peasley is a pet of mine.  If we put them together in the same ship maybe we’ll have one of those skin-glove contests you referred to a minute ago, but between their mutual recriminations you can bet your hopes of Heaven I’ll catch a glimpse of the truth and act accordingly.  Matt will not tell a lie, Skinner.  Remember that.”

“Neither will Kjellin,” Skinner declared with equal warmth.

“Well, I don’t know whether he will or not.  However, that’s beside the question.  Where is the Florence Ricks?”