Mr. Skinner’s eyes fairly popped.  “You don’t mean to tell me, sir, that you’ve given the Quickstep to that rowdy Peasley?”

Cappy relapsed into the colloquialism of the younger generation with which he was wont to associate at luncheon.  “Surest thing you know,” he said.

“If I may be permitted a criticism, Mr. Ricks—­”

“You may not.”

“Your sentimental leaning toward your fellow townsman may be the cause of losing one of the best paying ships of the fleet.”

“Forget it, Skinner!”

“Oh, very well.  You’re the boss, Mr. Ricks.  But if I were in your place I would have an older and more experienced man to relieve him the moment he comes into the bay.  You must remember, Mr. Ricks, that while he may run her very nicely during the summer months, he has had no experience on Humboldt Bay during the winter months—­”

“Skinner, the only way he’ll ever accumulate experience on that bar is to give him the opportunity.”

“He’ll take big risks.  He’s very young and headstrong.”

“I admit he’s fiery.  But I promised him a ship, and he’s earned her sooner than I planned, so, even if my decision loses the Quickstep for us, he shall have her.  I’ll be swindled if I ever did see the like of that boy Matt.  He gets results.  And do you know why, Skinner?”

“Because,” Mr. Skinner replied coldly, “he’s a huge, healthy animal, able and willing to fight his way in any ship, and at the same time clever enough to take advantage of your paternal interest in him—­”

“Rats!  I’ll give you the answer, Skinner, my boy:  He gets results because he does his duty and doesn’t sidestep for man or devil.  And he’s able to do his duty and do it well because he has a clear understanding of what his duty is—­and that, Skinner, is the kind of skipper material I’ve been looking for all my life.  As for the boy’s horsepower, let me tell you this:  If Matt Peasley wasn’t any bigger than I am, he’d fight any man that tried to walk over him.  It’s in his breed.  Damn it, sir, he’s a Yankee skipper, and when you’ve said that you’re through.  I guess I know.  How much have we been paying that bully Kjellin?”

“Two hundred a month.”

“Too much!  Pay Matt two-twenty-five and attend to the certificate of change of masters.”

When Mr. Skinner had departed Cappy sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, as was his habit when his gigantic brain grappled with a problem of more than ordinary dimensions.  For fully ten minutes he sat absolutely motionless, then suddenly he straightened up like a jack-in-the-box and summoned Mr. Skinner.

“Skinner,” he said plaintively, “I’m feeling a little run down.  Will you please be good enough to book Florry and me passage to Europe right away.  I’ve never been to Europe, you know, Skinner, and I think it’s time I took a vacation.”

Mr. Skinner smiled.  “Why all the hurry?” he queried.