r by the time you're twenty-seven, you'll be
the youngest skipper of steam afloat, and you ought to be down on your
marrow bones giving thanks to the good Lord who has done so much for
you, instead of planning insurrection against Cappy Ricks. The idea!"

"But what sense is there in waiting--"

"When I refereed the scrap between you and All Hands And Feet you took
my advice, didn't you? You didn't say to me then: 'What sense is there
in waiting? Let me go in and finish the job and have done with it,' did
you?"

"But this is business, Mike. For a year and a half Cappy has been having
a whole lot of fun out of me--"

"It might have been fun for him, but it came pretty near being the
death of me," Mr. Murphy contradicted. "If that jag of green hides from
Antofagasta was a joke, beware of Cappy Ricks when he's serious. He's
serious about you, Matt. He's picked on you sight unseen, and he's going
to do something for you. He's an old man, Matt. Let him have his way and
you'll profit by it."

"Well, I'll see what he has to say, at any rate," Matt compromised, and
they went below, Matt to pack his sea chest and Mr. Murphy to shave and
array himself in a manner befitting the master of a big barkentine about
to present himself at the custom-house for the first time to clear his
ship.

An hour later Matt Peasley found himself sitting on his sea chest on the
cap of the wharf, watching the Retriever slipping down the strait under
command of Captain Michael J. Murphy, while a new chief mate, shipped in
Port Townsend, counted off the watches. Presently she turned a bend and
was gone; and immediately he felt like a homeless wanderer. The thought
of the doughty Murphy in that snug little cabin so long sacred to Matt
Peasley brought a pang of near jealousy to the late commander of the
Retriever; as he reflected on the two years of toil ahead of him before
men would again address him as Captain Peasley, he wondered whether the
game really would be worth the candle; for he had all of a Down-Easter's
love for a sailing ship.

He recalled to mind Mr. Murphy's favorite story of the old sailing
skipper who went into steam and who, during his very first watch on the
steamship's bridge, ordered the man at the wheel to starboard his helm,
and then forgot to tell him to steady it--the consequence being that
the helmsman held hard-a-starboard and the ship commenced to describe
a circle; whereupon the old sailing skipper got excited and scre