_ CHAPTER XV. RUMORS OF WAR
When four days had elapsed the manager of the Ranier mill wired the Blue Star Navigation Company that the Retriever had not yet appeared at their dock.
Now four days wasted means something to a big barkentine like the Retriever; and in the absence of any excuse for the delay Cappy Ricks promptly came to the conclusion that Matt Peasley was ashore in Seattle, disporting himself after the time-honored custom of deep-sea sailors home from a long cruise. There could be no other reason for such flagrant inattention to orders; for, had the man Peasley been ill, the mate, Murphy, whom the captain vouched for as sober and intelligent, would have had his superior sent to a hospital and wired the office for orders.
"Skinner," said Cappy, "send in a stenographer."
When the girl appeared Cappy Ricks dictated this wire:
Captain Matthew Peasley,
Master Barkentine Retriever,
Colman Dock, Seattle, Washington.
Are you drunk, dead or asleep? You have your orders. Obey them P.D.Q. or turn over command to Chief Mate Murphy.
Alden P. Ricks.
"There!" he shrilled. "I've signed my name to it. Sign a telegram Blue Star Navigation Company and these infernal skippers think a clerk sent it; but when they know the boss is on to them they'll jump lively. Bring me the answer to that as soon as it comes, Skinner."
However, the answer did not come that day. Indeed, the next day had almost dragged to a close before Mr. Skinner appeared with this telegraphic bomb:
Alden P. Ricks,
258 California St.,
San Francisco.
Neither! Been waiting my turn to go on dry dock. On now. Didn't reply yesterday because too busy driving toothpicks in vessel's bottom to plug up wormholes. If Murphy hadn't hauled into fresh water last time on Grays Harbor while I was in Seattle getting my ticket, her bottom would look like a colander now. Sixteen months in the water. You ought to be ashamed to treat a good staunch ship like that. Off dock day after to-morrow; will tow to Tacoma immediately thereafter. Meantime expect apology for insulting telegram.
Peasley.
Sixteen months without dry-docking! Why, her bottom must look like the devil! Cappy Ricks gazed long and earnestly at his general manager.
"Skinner," he said, "you're an ass! Why was not this vessel dry-docked before you sent her to Antofagasta?"
Mr. Skinner lost his temper.
"Because I didn't send her to Antofagasta," he replied sharply. "You did! And the reason she wasn't docked is because there isn't a dock on Grays Harbor. If you wouldn't interfere in the shipping, Mr. Ricks, and spoil my plans to satisfy your personal whims, the vessel would never have gone on that long voyage without being cleaned and painted."
"Enough!" Cappy half screamed. "It's a disgrace! Not another word, sir! Not another peep out of you. Why didn't you order the man Peasley to dock her? Why did you leave the decision to him? He knew his vessel was foul--he thought we ought to know it, also; and naturally he expected that when we ordered him to Seattle we would have made arrangements to put him on dry dock. Instead of which he had to make them himself; and I'm shown up as a regular, infernal--er--er--baboon! Yes, sir! Regular baboon! Nice spectacle you've made of me, getting me into a scrape where I have to apologize to my own captain! Baboon! Huh! Baboon! Yes; you're the baboon!"
"Well, I can't think of everything, Mr. Ricks--"
"Everything! Good Lord, man, if you'd only think of something! Send in a stenographer."
Mr. Skinner rang for the girl and retired in high dudgeon, while Cappy Ricks smote his corrugated brow and brought forth the following:
Captain Matthew Peasley,
Master Barkentine Retriever,
Hall's Dry Dock, Eagle Harbor, Wash.
"Yes; that was a grave oversight sending you to Antofagasta without docking you first. Express my appreciation of Murphy's forethought in killing some of the worms. Am not kind of owner that lets a ship go to glory to make dividends. Keep your vessel in top-notch shape at all times, though I realize this instruction unnecessary to you. Give the old girl all that is coming to her, including two coats X. & Y. copper paint. Replace all planking that looks suspicious.
Alden P. Ricks.
"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
_