Matthew Peasley.
Matt had just remembered that his six months in the Quickstep were up. His next move was to call on the steward.
“Go into Stateroom 7,” he ordered, “and collect fifteen dollars from that man and woman in there. They came aboard without tickets.”
Two minutes later the steward was back with word that the passengers in question were dead-heads, being none other than the manager of the Blue Star Navigation Company and his wife.
“Steward, you go back and tell that man Skinner that Captain Peasley never carries any dead-heads on the Quickstep. Tell him that when Captain Peasley wants to carry a guest he pays the guest's passage out of his own pocket.”
“But he'll fire me, sir.”
“Do as I order; he will not fire you. I'm the only man that has that privilege, and I'll exercise it if you don't obey me.”
Two more minutes elapsed; then Mr. Skinner presented himself at the captain's stateroom.
“Peasley,” he said sharply, “what nonsense is this?”
“No dead-heads on this ship, Mr. Skinner. Your own orders, sir. Fifteen dollars, if you please. You're not my guests.”